INSANELY SEXIST
Playdate dad: So where do you work?
Me: On # St. & Random Rd.
P: What do you sell?
M: Nothing.
P: Every one sells something.
M: No. Honestly. I don't sell anything. Myself maybe.
P: Are you a designer?

Lord. It was a tough sell but I may have convinced him I'm capable of producing something.

 
How are things with the man?
They are good. Very good. He calls me and I smile. I know I can call him and he wants to talk to me. We go to lunch. He comes over at night. He kisses me and the tenderness in his lips and the warmth of his hands melts me every time.
The kids drive him crazy. Initially. But when things settle down he enjoys the coziness of home. I'm becoming less tolerant of inappropriate behaviour. I remember the boyfriend who would brush my hair when I was angry. I wonder how anyone can be so tolerant of anger. I wonder if I have it in me. I wonder if I will ever love inclusive of imperfections. I wonder if I will ever make room for someone other than me in my life. And then he looks at me. I know this is what I was looking for. I only hope I am flexible enough to enjoy it.