Look O' The Irish

He called me last night, I was at Nick's Pub drinking $2 Guinness with a crew, his movie wasn't quite over yet, and said he'd be there shortly.

We sat nearby and his knees/feet touched mine despite the fact everyone there was "our" friend. The whole group knows each of us, and our independent histories, and only my two girls knew our recent, joint history.

I tried not to make things too obvious, but when we left he and I decided pizza was key.

Amelia offered to cook pancakes, and invited everyone.

He said, "no, we want pizza; see you later." He didn't suggest we go to Amelia's and order pizza there, either.

So they all saw us split together to order pizza at one o'clock in the morning. To his place, clearly.

I didn't expect a night number two. And I didn't expect him to make it so apparent to our entire gang.

I expected we'd make out in a dark corner one drunken night and then act like nothing happened. Instead he's cuddling in the morning, kissing me goodbye, and telling me he'll call.

So my designation of him being "harmless" comes from the fact he was supposedly leaving in six weeks.

He said it won't be before late May, if that. He said he's considering thinking about changing his mind on moving.

Because he really likes "what he has here" with all of his friends and stuff.

Yesterday I complained of sunlight waking me up earlier than I liked. This morning I woke up to a large camouflage blanket stretched across the window and keeping the room dark.

Army guy, this one. With typical taste in music, but good fashion, smart sense of humor, carries himself well, and is basically sexy as hell.

I'm still aware, though, that the oh-too-typical gone-in-four-days routine is highly possible.

Further more: my mother would never approve of a military Michael.