Out of the Blue

He rubbed my feet. I'd been on them for the last ten hours, in heeled sandals. I'm sure they were less than desireable by that time. Dry. Sensitive. But, he was undeterred. He wanted to do something kind to serve me.

Exhausted from the days events, including meetings upon meetings and student crises, I had ordered out. When I got home, I didn't bother to cook or clean up or even change my clothes for him. With my ID badge still on, I kicked off the sandals, plopped down on my big, red cushioned chair, tucked my legs up under me, and wolfed down yet another late dinner. The life of a youth program manager. Afterward, we talked long and hard about the last year or so that's passed since we've seen one another. Revelations. Friends and family passing. The invariable twists and turns of life's lessons along the journey self-discovery.

I noticed some changes in his appearance. The first and most staggering was that he'd shaved off his locks. It kind of made his bald head look small against his large frame. Although, he had leaned out, similar to the way Dwayne Johnson did between his "Rock" days and today. Before, he was all big and bulky, looking like a black hulk. He does manage a gym. His look, today, suited him more. A slightly leaner-yet-stll-muscular version. More...approachable. Same milk chocolate complexion and the same, sexy million-dollar smile.

He asked, "What type of men are you used to dating?" The question took me aback because I don't remember the last time I'd answered it. Rather than go on and on about dating guys who had something or someone they always put before me, I simply said, "Selfish." I figured it pretty well summed up all the men who'd taken my power from me--by lying, misleading and generally not considering me...at all. The men who'd harmed me or cheated. The men with substance issues or any other form of addiction that got in the way of us building something meaningful and committed. Selfish. That was it.

He asked, "What are you doing tomorrow night?" Embarrassed yet matter-of-factly, I replied, "Lately, my Fridays consist of doing laundry, drinking wine and watching Dateline. Honestly, I think I just need the cat to complete the cliche." He laughed. I said, "So to answer your question, a whole bunch of nothing. Sadly, I don't even really mind." With his lotion-filled hands firmly rubbing up and down my feet and calves, he replied, "Well, I would love to cook you dinner and then take you out for drinks...maybe shoot some pool if you'll let me teach you how. That is, if it's alright with you." "We can do that," I smiled.

He led the way as we walked toward the front door of my building. He stopped to turn around and say goodbye, offering me a giant, warm bear hug, lasting about 30 seconds. After, he lifted his index finger under my chin, tilting my head up, and leaned in--giving me the sweetest, most simple kiss. "I'll see you, tomorrow, baby girl."