Julie Lyles Carr: So Where Were We?

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

So Where Were We?

Let's see. I've told you about fake vomit and cheating girl friends, blue eyes and the future Tony winner.


What was that collective yell?

Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't reveal the future Tony winner's identity, now did I?

For those of you who guessed Kristin Chenoweth, you get a thousand points.

And you really know your Broadway.

So Michael was up in Oklahoma City, visiting the future Tony winner and I was nursing what I pragmatically thought was a sore heart that had no right to be. So I did what any self respecting modern girl would do...I called up one of Mike's buddies and Sadie Hawkins-ed him.

Because nothing ices a bruised heart like going out with one of your fella's buddies.

Michael did call me over that weekend, the cheerful giggles of a future Tony winner ringing in the background. He called to tell me that he was in OKC visiting a friend. He called to ask me how my weekend was going. He called to tell me that he missed me.

I thanked him and told him I was a little busy getting ready to go out with his buddy.

It was a long, strange weekend. I played out all kinds of dramatic conversations in my head. I went out with the buddy for lunch and then dinner. And then dinner the next night. I choreographed some more scenes I thought would play well when I told Michael off when he got back to town. And then I talked myself out of those scenes again.

After all, the poor guy had never even kissed me, had never made me promises, had never acted as if we had an exclusive thing going on.

Even if my heart was acting otherwise.

In the end, pragmatism won out. It usually does with me. I gave myself a stern talking to, stopped all the soap opera dramas in my head.

And accepted Mike's buddy's invitation for yet another lunch date on that Sunday.

So when Michael arrived at my door late that Sunday night, I was surprised. He gave me a big hug. He flashed that perfect smile at me. He flashed those blue eyes at me.

Okay. Whatever. Fine.

He asked if we could go outside and talk, away from the girlie gab of my roommates.

Okay. Whatever. Fine.

We sat in his car, the autumn night chilly. He laced his fingers through mine and asked me about my weekend.

Um, I went out all weekend with one of your buddies while you were up in OKC seeing some girl who would one day be Sally Brown and Glinda not much, why do you ask?

I nervously chatted, random bits of verbiage hanging in the air ,awkward and gangly.

He kept intently looking at me.

Okay. Whatever. Fine.


And midway through one of my clumsy, artless sentences, he pulled me across the console of the car that divided us.

And he kissed me.

While I kept my eyes open wide in shock.

Because this was not a development I had foreseen or played out in my head drama.

Michael has always laughed about how stunned I looked and how I kept trying to talk as he began to pull me toward him. He laughs that he wasn't sure if I was terrified, horrified or some cocktail of the two. But he decided to kiss me regardless.

He had made a decision.

Or had at least closed out one option.

He was going to see where the road would lead with me. He was willing to walk a little way down a path that was adjacent to mine. He was going to take a little hike, do a little sight-seeing.

To see if those converging paths might take us in the same direction.

But he was going to walk slowly. He was going to lead the way and set the pace. This was to be a leisurely stroll. His plans and path were well laid out. He had time lines for his professional and personal goals in place. This would be a test run to see if my path would fall in an orderly fashion next to his.

Poor guy. He hadn't thought about the fact that I am a runner. A die-hard, grind-my-knees-to-powder distance runner.

He'd learn.

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