And then it happens

We never really know where things will come from, or when, or in what form. For all the planning, philosophizing, hand-wringing and worry I've put myself through these last four years, through the end of my marriage and into the next phase of my life, I thought I had a vision of where I'd end up.

That vision looks nothing like where I am, and it looks everything like where I am.

In the way that two bubbles in a stream suddenly merge into one that seems unexpectedly large and glistening, I am suddenly part of something bigger than I ever thought. Something that will make me better by demanding more of me than I thought I could give, something that certainly will push me in directions I didn't imagine four years ago.

Suzanne and I have formed that single bubble. We've spent an intense, fascinating weekend finding the ways in which our lives overlap and contrast, ways we fit or don't, things we know and seek to know. For both of us, it feels like we've stepped into a play for which we've always known the words but for which we just hadn't yet been cast. They're our parts now. We'll probably improvise some scenes, and maybe drop a few words here and add a few there, but for better or worse, this is our play. We're in it; it's ours.

She's amazing. I looked across at her at church this morning -- yes, don't laugh, she took me to church -- and thought, "I just wish I can be good enough to be worth you." She seems to have no fear, no reserve, no needless caution. She throws herself into everything, and that means she has not only thrown herself into being with me, but she's made me want to do the same. I'm done having one foot in and one foot out the door, done hedging bets or wondering what else the world (or my Match emails) will bring tomorrow.

She is it. She was always supposed to be it, and now it's time for us to get on with the business of being... an us.

Logistics will be a trick. She lives about two and a half hours from where I work (and thus about three and a quarter from where I live), so it's not like it's practical to just stop over for a short visit and to bring treats for her rabbits. Yet I've already made plans to be here next weekend, and the weekend after that she'll be down at the Cat Mansion, assuming (of course) that I sandblast the place and actually get a chance to mow the grass and whatnot. Yet I can already feel the focus shift: I no longer have to spend my time on pointless first dates!

That's right... having a partner means you have time to paint your bedroom.

I told her that, and Suzanna said, "gosh, you're so romantic." But of course, she hasn't seen how badly I need to paint the bedroom.

Did I mention she's gorgeous, also? Rail-thin, tall, dark-haired, bright-eyed. The delicate, elegant legs of a fawn, gentle curves, thin but strong fingers. If she weighs 120 pounds, I'd be astonished. We went shopping yesterday and we found her a couple of truly pretty spring dresses and some casual things, since her complaint is that she has basically nothing in between lawyer suits and jeans. We have very similar tastes, classic but not dowdy. Last night we went to dinner in Princeton, at a very elegant but low-key place, the Peacock Inn, and it was fun to watch the older Princeton alumni furtively check her out.

And yes, she was with me.

I cannot even explain how happy I am today. We're both writing right now... me, I'm writing this, and she's in the kitchen writing something related to her work. Then, it's off for more adventures, assuming we can keep our hands off each other long enough to get out the door.

Wish me luck.