Such Sweet Sorrow*

Standing barely a foot inside my front door yesterday evening, gazing with great anticipation upon one another for the first time in more than a week (the highlight of which featured one hell of a rollercoaster ride as M3 divulged his true post-breakup emotional state), he bestowed upon me the biggest, most boyish, endearing and utterly adorable grin for which I have ever been able to take personal responsibility in my entire existence.

We remained barely a foot inside my front door making out like teenagers for what felt like hours but really couldn't have been more than 15 minutes when we finally did stop to come up for air. In that instant, I genuinely thought that time might quite possibly have just stood still. Just then. Just for us.

Agreeing that leaving the premises for a meal was wise on a variety of accounts, M3 reached for my hand as we walked the 15 feet from my front door to the car.

We played footsie at dinner and drank many cocktails.

And shared an appetizer, a salad and an entree because when you live two hours apart and he just broke up with his girlfriend so even though you've been corresponding now for almost two months you've only managed 2.5 dates (he said last night counts as #2, I maintain it was #3, thus we're splitting the difference) yet you feel like you've known one another for a lifetime, the sharing of food somehow manages to take on an entirely unwarranted romantic affect of its very own.

And, with the exception of one single and brief foray into totally unnecessary and gratutious discussion of the fact that he and ex-girlfriend will be partaking in the same Superbowl festivities on Sunday (topic broached, natch, by yours truly), we were nothing but light and breezy.

And maybe a little bit drunkedy drunk.

Later, finding myself face to face with boy wearing an expression that defied explanation, I asked M3 what his problem was.

"You're so pretty."

(Oh, it gets better. Or I suppose worse, depending on your perspective.)

Later still, arms and legs tangled, his blue eyes twinkling as he soulfully, eagerly searched my own, M3 asked in the sweetest whisper...

"What did I do to deserve you?"

(You broke up with your girlfriend just like you said you would, found a new place to live just like you said you would, and you make me deliriously happy and content, just like I desperately hoped you would. That's what.)

And in that moment, overwhelmed by the if-it-was-anyone-else-I'd-so-be-gagging-right-now sincerity of this smart and sweet and witty and wonderful boy in my midst, and feeling feelings that I had entirely no right to be feeling on date 2.5, time lurched forward with a velocity and speed so great, it seemed to bring the dawn in barely an instant.

And with it, M3's departure.

*Line stolen from "morning after" email sent by M3 upon his return to his mid-sized city this a.m.. Email not being discussed at this time due to excessive volumes of overwhelmingly nauseating content already contained in the above post.