Wednesday were sometimes mixed up with Thursdays. Sometimes he had worked late, or we were both too tired that we put it off until the next day. It was all good because I knew that I got to see him on a weekend night, and week night. We didn’t see each other like most couples do, so our couple of days per week was something to look forward to. He was a long time out of a bad marriage, slept around for a spell, and then I happened into the picture. I told myself I’d never date a dude that was ever married/divorced, and had children. That’s more baggage than what I wanted. But he was different, Patrick made me feel unlike I’ve ever felt before. I’ve had my share of boyfriends that I claimed to love, and I’ve cried and felt hopeless when we broke up, but this was something entirely different that I was feeling. It was late April of 2009 and while making love, he whispered in my ear, “There’s something I want to tell you…” I looked up at him lovingly and said, “Yes.” He said over and over, “I love you, I love you…” I would’ve fainted if I wasn’t already lying down. I was indeed in love, and it felt AMAZING. I didn’t think it was possible to feel like that. It’s indescribable. My friends, co-workers, everyone saw that I was a changed woman. He made such the difference in my life that a strange unfamiliar calm washed over me. I wasn’t the “hostile/angry” Alima that some know me as, I was a new person. All of the “I love yous” that I said all of the years before couldn’t match what I was feeling, living. We were good together, we had our own rhythm, we finished each others sentences, we had an amazing connection that was evident in the very beginning, and we laughed a LOT. I wanted to give this man the world for the love that he showed me, gave me. I wanted to give him everything that I could! I wanted to make sure that he had everything he needed. Attention, love, sex, compassion, support… I wanted to give him things that I didn’t know how to give. He was giving me more than anything you could buy in this world. I doted on every move that he made…. He hung the moon for me. I still got butterflies each and every time I saw him. He was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with… miniscule flaws and all. He accepted me for me. I wanted him to be the first thing I woke up to every morning, and the last thing when I went to bed every day for the rest of my life It doesn’t get much better than this. My friends and family use to tell me that they could see how I looked at him in my pictures, in person and knew that I was a changed woman. That somehow someone had broken through the hard shell and got to the gooey insides. . I was new… every ion in my body was new. Just thinking back makes me lightheaded…
We spent quite a bit of time at our friends’ camp on the TN River. We were cooking every weekend, grilling, just having hang time with our friends. It became routine. Every time the weekend would roll around, we’d ask each other, “What are we cooking tonight?” It was so refreshing to be on the same page with someone. We decided to take a vacation. I hadn’t given myself one in almost seven years, so I was completely jazzed to do so this (particular) year. We talked about us going, and finally I just decided that I needed to shit or get off the pot. I was so worried because none of our friends were coming along and I was concerned that he would become bored with me, lose interest, or just plain not have a good time. I was so concerned. I got a great deal for a condo right on the beach, 100 yards away from the water. It was perfect! We got extra early, and he came to get me. The sun wasn’t up yet but I was wired! I was so excited that I was pretty goofy! He set the Garmin, and we headed down 65. I was being absolutely silly, minding everything out the window. The sun slowly began to rise while we were in Alabama and it was time for breakfast! We stopped off at a Cracker Barrel around 7 that morning, filled up, and headed back out. I had never laughed so hard until we came to Butler , Alabama . The GPS was acting up. We literally drove around in a circle for ten minutes. Patrick was furious, and I was trying NOT to laugh because it was making him that much angrier. By the time we got out of our little “web”, and got our bearing back… we were Destin bound. Once he calmed down, he referred to the Garmin as the “Bitch in a Box.” It still cracks me up to this day. We finally arrived to our beach hide-away just shy of noon. But not before I had MY meltdown. There was a small box outside of the door. Well I couldn’t find it, and it was hot as HELL out there. We looked around everything, picking up stuff. I was sweating and pissed. Well after about 10 minutes of doing all of that, we realized that we were poking around the wrong door. :o/ Once we went to our door; there was the little box outside of the door that held our key. He called me pissy when we got in. I nicknamed him “PP.” PP was a term of endearment. If meant, “Pissy Patty”, or “Pretty Patty”, “Pouty Patty” (one of my favorites), and anything else I could come up with. He called me PP once we got in. We dumped our stuff and headed out to eat. It was lunchtime and we were starving! We headed right around the corner for something small then came back to the condo to head to the pool. This was the first time I’d put on a swimsuit in probably 7 years! I was not happy about it! I reluctantly put it on. If it weren’t so damn hot, I would’ve gotten out there in a t-shirt and shorts! We took it all in. After we got our fill of the sun, we headed in to get cleaned up to head to dinner. Crab legs! Oysters! We were ready for it all! We hit AJ’s and every little boat bar along the Harborwalk. We even stopped to take a picture that turned out to actually be a really good one. We got more and more tanked and decided to head back to the condo. It wasn’t even 8, and we passed out! Every morning there after consisted of Patrick getting up to make coffee, then breakfast, then he’d look at me and ask, “Beach or pool?” It was perfect. We were officially on the senior citizens schedule and loving every minute of it. No hurry, no rushing, just meandering about for a week. It was wonderful. By the week end, Michael Jackson had died, and it was time to come back home. We packed our belongings, had our last big dinner at Pompano Joe’s, and went back for our last night in Destin. That morning we rose early, loaded the car, and headed to bring some shrimp back home, and Waffle House. We were heading back home… :(
To be continued…
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