Taking action

When it rains, it pours.

Last night The Raging Alcoholic Bartender, the one I fell in love with over three years ago before setting out for Chicago, that one, he said he loved me.

And Sexy HR Guy popped into my work today, and suddenly it was a little awkward between us, suddenly I didn't know what to do with my arms, suddenly I was so pleased I chose a pretty dress for work. He told me to call him this time, offered a lame excuse about losing my number.

And tonight I saw Mr. R again, I saw him and my friends, we are all friendly these days.

I think having a drink with Sexy HR Guy would be a kind of betrayal, but why am even I so interested in it? Do I just want to stir the pot? Am I messing something good up? Do I want to sabotage it all, every time?

It doesn't come naturally between Mr. R and me, it's a little forced, the chemistry. Sometimes I worry about why he won't make eye contact with me, but then he comes through with moments of generosity, of things I never expected.

With the men I couldn't shake, I still can't shake, though, it was never something tangible. It was always something I couldn't quite put my finger on, some reaction I had to him that was unexplainable, and kids, let's be honest: I don't get that with Mr. R. He is all the things. Except. Except I preferred to quietly come home tonight and blog and have my space instead of spending the night with him. Maybe actions speak louder than words, actions speak louder than me writing it to death.