How I Met a Bear

On November 17 of 2005 I met a bear. Contrary to what you might think, it wasn't scary at all. Actually, it was kind of nice. I'm not talking about your average grizzly or black bear - this bear, while being a little furry, is in truth a man - and this bear of a man is in total and complete love with me (and I am with him). This first post is the story of our meeting, and the purpose of this blog is to catalog the triumphs (and trials) of our relationship.
Bear first contacted me on myspace.com (my profile name is boutrosbabe) in the beginning of November. He sent me a message telling me what his name was and that he hoped to hear from me some time. I pondered his message for almost a week before responding. He was two years younger than me, and listed his musical interests as hard rock/metal, although he did say he'd listen to anything. He was wearing a hoddie and a backwards cap in his picture, but he had an adorable face and I figured, why the hell not? Yes, he looks different from your usual type, but would that be such a bad thing? So I messaged him back. We talked on Yahoo IM later that week. He was pretty funny and was easy to talk to. He wanted to meet pretty soon after talking to me, but I wanted to talk over the phone first. He was very obliging and it wasn't long before we had a date - November 17 at 99 Restaurant in Bangor.
I was nervous, a little. Bear says he wasn't, and I believe him. He's had a remarkable amount of confidence and assurance about us from day one. When I got there, he was already there. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to hug him hello. He was a bit bigger than I had anticipated from his pictures, but it didn't seem to matter to me (which was news to me, as I have only ever dated really skinny men). As our date began, I learned that Bear was not only as funny in person as online and over the phone, but he also has the uncanny ability to make me blush. Furiously. He has no shame or embarassment, and is NOT afraid to act foolish in public.
To say the first date went well would be an understatement. It wasn't perfect (I spent much of it in fear that my ex-boyfriend would happen on scene and cause drama... thankfully that didn't happen), but it was good. At the end of the night, we were saying goodbye, and the standard awkwardness of a kiss was present. I knew that I wanted to kiss him, but wasn't sure how to go about doing it. Eventually I asked for a hug, and when I pulled back, I kissed him. Or rather, our lips met half way. He kissed me in a very different manner than my ex did, which was as nice as it was strange. When I pulled back, I asked him if he was going to tell the guys at his work about his date. He kind of shrugged his shoulders. I said, "Are you the type to kiss and tell?" He thought about it, shrugged again, and said, "Nope." I smiled, said, "Good." And totally leaned up and kissed him again. Longer, this time with a little tongue (!). It was hot. He has perfect lips. I was channeling my inner Samantha (from Sex in the City) that night for sure.
He must have liked it, because he wanted a second date. Couldn't wait to see me, in fact. I went through a lot of wishy-washiness about it, because while I knew that he was fabulous, I knew that I wanted to stay single for a long time, too. I had "wild oats" to sow and all that.
But then one night Bear changed my mind and my life with a gift and a confession. More on that next time - stay tuned!