spilling the beans

It's taken me a long time to write this post - mostly because I'm trying to be a looker-before-I-leaper (this is the post that put Lemon Gloria in my blog roll). Further, on top of being more of a leaper than a looker, I fear I have an incredible ability to jinx things simply by allowing myself to get excited about them. So in this instance, this "thing", I have been taking it slow. And, I've had help - because this "thing" happens to involve a certain someone who lives in Paris.

I simply had to write about coming across the French boy the night I met him in San Diego. It was unexpected, fun, romantic and overall the type of evening that gives you hope in all things love related. And I knew, without a doubt, that it would not be the last time we saw each other. He was only going to be in San Diego for another week - but somehow it took us a few days to process it all and realize just how easy it would be to see each other again before he left. So, the Thursday night before he took off he came up to Orange County. I made dinner for him and my roommate (I wanted them to meet), he brought a bottle of wine and a load full of cleaning supplies that he didn't want to go to waste when he left his company apartment (which I thought was rather darling) and after dinner we walked down to the ocean. In the midst of a Southern California cold spell, the night was practically balmy. As we sat on the life guard tower at my favorite little cove we continued the getting-to-know-each-other-pouring-out-life-stories we'd begun the first night we met in San Diego.

I was struck more than once by the similar experiences we've had - and something about how he communicated and shared how things that have happened to him in life have affected his overall outlook really resonated with me. But perhaps more important than our somewhat shared histories - is where we're both at in our lives now. Much of what we shared had to do with what so many of us are confronting - how to build a career that's both gratifying, challenging and meaningful - while at the same time trying to figure out who might be out there for you and all the rest of life's most important pieces. I could tell he needed to talk - he needed someone to process this stuff with - and here I was, in the midst of taking those steps that release you from the confines of a not-quite-right career and into the great unknown in the hopes of finding what is meant to be.

Even as I write this I don't quite know what to make of the situation - since he's returned to Paris we've written almost every day - and while emailing has long retired as my favorite means of communication - his willingness to utilize it as the medium most readily offered is impressive. I suppose coming across a man who thrives on communication is a feat in itself - but one I've just met, who lives a world away - well, it's quite something.

I am too superstitious and trying too hard to be the looker rather than the leaper to relay some of the more bizarre signs that have popped up since I met him - suffice it to say that each time one happens, I wonder just how cautious with myself I need to be. When do you give in and allow yourself to accept what fate has put before you? But alas, there I go getting ahead of myself. So for now I'll keep mum on those things - but I will say that in two weeks, Paris' shadow will once again be gracing the shores of Southern California.