I love Vegas; Craps is my game and nine is my favorite number. Before this last trip, my oncologist told me that 18 (it was August 18th) was a very lucky number in the Jewish faith. He seemed satisfied I was ending my 18th treatment on the 18th. So how did that change my odds in Vegas I asked him? Since there is no 18 on the Craps table, we decided that two and nine were worth betting on, with nine paying out better than the two. I bet on the nine again and again and again, and I won big (Hello Venetian...free room please!). As I was betting on my nine and the two on the Field, I realized the significance of 29 (not 18) yet again.
I never really liked dating when I was younger, the writer in me, needs to write the ending. My therapist keeps telling me that I should not be so concerned with how it is going to turn out, but to enjoy the ride. If you are a writer, you most likely crave order and rules, a story without and ending is an unfinished piece of work. That does not spell out success.
But I am trying. After hottie McButterpants with the 29 arrests, the number 29 seemed unlucky, despite my Vegas winnings. However, when the most beautiful Spanish man started talking to me, immediately I was drawn in forgetting that lucky/unlucky number. The novel that I am working on for my MFA program at Antioch University, has a protagonist/antagonist (not sure which yet), who is Spanish. I don't remember why I picked a Spanish man. Perhaps it was because I had been Salsa dancing when I started to crafting this character, but I was obsessed with that dark, smoldering beauty. My character Paolo has this thick, dark shiny hair the color of onyx, his eyes are such a deep amber brown that his pupils are hard to detect, and his white smile lights up his face. He's kind and loves his family, respects his mother, cooks, has an athlete’s physique; muscular legs, toned arms - clearly my fantasy man - at the time unbeknownst to me.
I found my fascination with this new Spanish man odd. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Unlike my normal, independent self, I was waiting by my phone for his texts or calls. I ditched friends to see him and when we had a date that included a trip to the park with my dog and his toddler, I was in heaven. It was the most comfortable date, we all seemed to connect, and it felt like a family outing.
But back to the hottie right? A week or so ago, I realized he was Paolo in my real world. He is a little slighter that my made up character, but this real Spanish beauty has all the other features. He is so kind, I melt like a chocolate bar in the sun, when I see him with his son. Who of course is adorable in his own right. He played professional soccer, so he is so athletic and his body, although thinner than Paolo's, is so toned and strong. And that shiny black hair, there's a ton of it, peppered with just the perfect amount of gray. His smile, lights up his whole face and when he's not smiling, he is smoldering. I am twitterpated.
I've tried to take the backseat and let him "drive the boat," in my attempt to not write the ending and push this sweet man away. I sort of figured he had introduced me to his son, he must be serious. After two months of patiently waiting for him to commit, two months of him pursuing me, especially if I ignored him, I get the, "I'm not sure if I am ready for a relationship." He went on to tell me that he knows he needs to settle down and be a father to his son. I know it's what his family is expecting and wanting him to do. I believe there is still a party boy inside of him clawing to get out.
Like the loyal person I am, I am still waiting and holding out hope. I think I may have more serious feelings than I'd like to admit. I thought my parenting days were over, but I think about the three of us, and my boxer, every day. Imagine my despair when I found out he was 29!
Next time I go to Vegas I am going to bet on the 3 and the 6. They still equal 18 when multiplied, but side by side their 36 that is more my age!
