I've Got You Under My Skin

It's Friday night with no events in the Grand Garden this weekend so I'm taking advantage of some down time. Just me & George Bennett watching Dateline with my MacBook Air on my lap catching up on some work.

My home phone rings around 9.30p but I don't answer it. I never do. There are only a handful of people who have that number and all of them know better. About 20 minutes later my cel rings and it's the lawyer or 'Counselor' as I like to refer to him. I was once in an uncontrollable, ridiculous, torturous, maddening, outrageous, delicious love affair with him. When it ended I knew I'd recover but I would never be the same, never approach love with that kind of reckless abandon and lack of judgement. Diving in head first may be for some people but I learned the hard way it's not for me. I'm far to calculated, guarded and (sigh) fragile.

I haven't really spoken to him in years and then out of the blue - poof - there he is. He was calling from my happy place, a great restaurant called Seablue. (I used to joke that my friend Leslie and I were like the Norm and Cliff of Seablue. You could always find us at the end of the bar by the well on any given night after work. In our defense it is just steps away from our offices at the arena.) While I think of it as MY favorite place on earth, Counselor and I did have some great times there too: me a cucumber martini, him a Beefeater Gibson straight up. He said he begged the bartender to give up my cel number. Note to self: Kill Bill.

The conversation was short and sweet. One of those, "I was just thinking about you" calls. He asked me out to dinner tomorrow. He knows I love sushi; I said yes. I probably shouldn't have but I do miss my friend. And let's be honest, I've Got You Under My Skin Counselor. I always have. I'm just not sure it's the same anymore. Two years ago, hell one year ago I would have given a lung for him to call. Now all I can think about is why wasn't it M who called instead.