That time I got back together with that guy I sort of broke up with except we were never really official

I sat there across from him and I knew. 

It really was over. 

I felt a little different. 

Maybe it had been a little too long. 

Maybe I wasn't cut out for monotony. 

Excuse me. 

Monogamy.  

He even looked different, is that crazy?

I just felt disconnected and like I was drinking with a stranger instead of this guy I almost kinda sorta had real feelings for. 

I don't even know what he was rambling on about because I'd tuned him out and was wondering why I'd gotten dolled up for this when I could have been in bed in my underwear eating Doritos. 

Your hair looks really nice, by the way, he suddenly interjected, in the most surprising way possible. 

Somewhere in the middle of his, And one time he made me a card with a race car and a stick figure guy that was supposed to be me and a dinosaur saying, Happy Birthday. 

Pause.

Your hair looks really nice, by the way.

I was almost startled because it was the first moment since he sat down that I felt any connection to him at all. 

And I was already on my second old fashioned. 

He looked at me in that way, that way the men who make us swoon do, and I suddenly felt beautiful sitting across from him. 

I didn't know what I wanted. 

I have no fucking clue. 

Don't men know that?

And at some point we got on the subject of "us" namely why I'd sort of ended things and how surprising it was he'd responded in such calm. 

It's not a big deal. I assume conflict is going to be a part of any relationship. It's just something you work on. 

I held my glass midair instead of letting the cool glass reach my lips. 

And just stared at him. 

Was he high?

Who was that fucking calm about bumps in Couple Land?

All the men I was used to dating were like, oh you raised your voice to me you said I wasn't perfect now I'm gonna unfriend you on facebook.

Was I --

Actually-

On a date with a--

Man??

He flashed his dimples at me and said, Don't overthink it. 

And it was that simple. 

Just like that. 

I'd asked him if he liked me and I wish I'd snapped a photo of the look he gave me. 

Complete and utter shock as though the question was so absurd to even be in existence. 

And I quickly interrupted the look with a No. It's a legit question. I never see you and I rarely hear from you, how would I know?

And it was so, well, lovely. 

To have an honest, open dialogue about what was missing and what wasn't working and to have him just sit there. 

Calmly. 

Drinking his beer. 

Like it was a perfectly normal, relaxing discussion to have and it's cool. 

It's all good. 

He gave no fucks. 

But not because he didn't care. 

Because he gave no fucks about being called out on his bullshit. 

So. Fucking. HOT.

I don't really know what I want. 

I don't. 

And that's ok. 

But meeting someone who is more than willing to listen to my dissatisfaction and want to simply work through it?

That. 

I definitely did want. 

To making up the fucking rest as we go along.