Friday night, Jim and I went out to commemorate our first six months of dating. Knowing his penchant for good steak, I booked an early table at the Buenos Aires grill. We split a zesty malbec and gorged ourselves on Argentinean beef. The restaurant was layered in grilling smoke, overpowering my perfume, and for the rest of the night I smelled like I was fresh from the campfire. It was not unpleasant.
As we ate and talked, my fears from the week began to ebb. Jim even said to me that, though he loves the quiet of the suburbs and a big home, he would live in the city. Not that I had asked him to, but it was a very thoughtful thing to say. We finished up so we could make it to our evening show across the street at The Moore.
I stopped in to wash up at The Whisky Bar before we headed over. I wanted to make sure my teeth weren't purple from the wine, and to reapply some lip gloss. A young woman, also from the restaurant, asked if we were on a date, and I said yes. She said, "I can tell; you look so CUTE together!" I blushed; the red wine, red meat and attention all manifested in my rosy cheeks.
Jim and I had tickets to see Mike Birbiglia that night. Classified as a comedian Birbigs is more of a storyteller. I'd come across the tickets late, so we were sat near the ceiling of the old theater. I could see the paint peeling near the dome inlay. And even if I could not see Bigbigs well, his voice reached us well and fine. We tucked our knees to our chests in the tight, high rows and laughed laughed laughed. 
Much later that night, I eventually fell asleep contented, after I put my brain to rest.
I've recently spun my wheels quite a bit about my uneasiness and I think it's based on the fact that my life has never been so seamless. Jim maintains a good friendship with his ex-wife, and I feel like I need to be jealous about this. But I can't honestly do it. By all accounts, being friendly to someone who hurt you is the ultimate statement of maturity and security. There's nothing unattractive about this, but I find myself with growing pains due to its unfamiliarity.
And there's the time he accidentally called me by his ex-wife's name while on the phone with his mom. We laughed it off, but it stung a little. Because I let it. But I know his heart's in a good place, and he has growing pains too. This is new. This is different.
Like most men, when change is overwhelming, or even mildly disconcerting, they retreat to The Man Cave. This is a safe place full of distraction, security and familiar rituals. They sit with their backs to the wall, facing the opening, aware of anything or anyone that might upset their Safe & Normal Cave Experience. And when they grow lonely, ambitious or hungry, men venture back out into the world to get what they need. Jim does this, too.
I need to learn to not take The Man Cave personally. I do something similar; I think most women do. We Put Things Right. It might be as simple as tidying up our house, making a list of things we should do and then DO them, or take personal inventory. Note what we like, what we don't like, what we can change about ourselves, and then work toward that change. I don't like that I get jealous or that I don't mind my own business as much as I should. I don't like that I was so wrapped up in my own world that I didn't bring a gift to Aanal's baby shower. I don't like that I stopped dance lessons and that I have been insular.
On Sunday afternoon, after Jim and I went to Costco and bought bulk necessities, I went home. I put all the groceries away methodically. I realized I had a few hours to kill before my West Coast Swing 1 class started. Shaney and I signed up together and I was looking forward to it. I quickly hopped back into my car and drove to the Baby Gap where I found myself handling dozens of soft onesies for little boys, aged 0-6 months. They were so tiny, like doll clothes. I wanted to buy them all, but limited myself to three.
I wrapped them sweetly in a little ducky gift bag and wrote a note for Aanal. I wished her and her new son the best of luck. I taped a note to my front door before I skipped out to dance class with Shaney, reminding myself to not forget the gift on my way to work in the morning.
All things, be them new baby boys or young relationships, aged only 0-6 months, can be very fragile. I intend to be very mindful of this as I navigate these new, unnervingly smooth waters.
