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  • For the week when he was away I received daily emails about how things were where he was, what he was doing and thinking about. Pictures of rolling hills in Ireland and excitement about seeing me again. After his return we had our second date. I can’t say I enjoyed it. I found it very difficult to share anything about myself, my life, me. The sheer force behind his talking was tiring and I struggled at times to interest myself in what he was saying at all. Something had me engaged, though. Maybe it was the constant flattery, the way I made him the luckiest guy in the world. It was powerful fervor. And there were so many things that just seemed good, exciting and exactly what I was looking for. He told me stories of how he had abandoned a fast paced, ambitious lifestyle to accommodate a family, a marriage, and a way of living that didn’t revolve completely around work. His professional and financial success afforded him the freedom to now enjoy all that there was to enjoy - with someone. His grew up slow and rural, a lot like me though he loved the city. So many of his priorities were like mine, and, as if someone had read my mind or just taken pity on my love life for once, he had a small farmhouse in Italy that he was about to start renovating. A place where he said he spent weeks just riding his Vespa, drinking red wine, and planning the work he wanted done on his rustic little old house by the water.

    We continued to see one another. And he continued to alarm me and excite me. I felt he didn’t show enough of an interest in my work, my past, my ideas or feelings though he was deeply focused on what was evolving between us. It formed a strange tension. It seemed what was happening in him was so big so fast so consuming that there was little space for the details of me. He told me repeatedly that he had never felt the way he felt about me, and he was overwhelmed by it all. It confused him. More than once we stood on the street trying to think of what to do next, he’d freeze - stunned and a bit frantic - literally unable to suggest whether we should go right or left and apologizing for his bewilderment. Still, we proceeded a bit clumsily, and I proceeded, watchfully.
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