He’s back. Tanned, toned, and charming as ever! My long lost boyfriend has finally returned from the dark corners of Europe, and my excruciatingly long dry spell has come to a halt.

He arrived in SB on a Wednesday afternoon and after the initial awkwardness with “it’s so good to see you” and, “you look great!” we picked up exactly where we left off five weeks ago. I was surprised at how easy it was. His smell was the same, his laugh – even the way he teasingly bit my earlobe. Our interaction was positively flawless and it was hard to believe that it had actually been over a month since I’d last seen him.

What had seemed like an eternity when I was power-lunching with my cute Norwegian friend, semi-flirting with Brian at the coffee shop, and working my ass off at the gym, has been erased in the blink of an eye. It’s demonstrated by a giddiness that can best be compared to that of two kids reuniting on the first day of school, after a long summer and parent-initiated separation.

The reunion sex was so damn good I think I may just start recommending my girlfriends send their men away just so they can reap the benefits upon their return: Over-indulging in foreplay, bed-side acrobatics, and exchanging compliments so mushy it would make external parties want to hurl. You don’t have to send him away for 30+ days though; a long weekend should suffice.

Soon after the return of my BF I was confronted with the inevitable question of whether or not I’d actually heard him on the phone when he told me he loved me? (Um, yeah. I struggled like Jessica Simpson in a fashion store with what to reply!) As always, I decided to follow your advice and go with a sincere sounding combo of option A and C from last week’s poll; I told him that I loved him too, but completely blanked when hearing those words. After all, it’s not like I had a copy of Cosmo featuring the “Replies When Your Man Unexpectedly Professes His Love to You” article on my nightstand.

I don’t know if it was the mojitos we were drinking, the French lingerie I was wearing, or the fact that guys don’t sweat the small stuff, but he bought it – no questions asked. Phew! I love a man who’s easygoing like that and, to be honest, I’ve discovered a lot of things I love about this guy lately. Like how he’ll bike to work for a week so I can borrow his car while mine is in the shop. He’ll ask me two months ahead of time for a long weekend together. He buys tofu and olives at the store just because he knows I like it. He goes out of his way to be nice to my friends. He wants me to come with him to his hometown and meet his parents!

Wait a minute: Did I just say meet his parents!? For this once perpetually single girl, the prospect of meeting anyone’s parents used to be about as appealing as getting your head stuck in a train door. Like John Travolta in Grease I used to say only half jokingly; “I don’t like parents.” But, something has happened over the course of the last few weeks, and recently I find myself excited – and not panicked – when asked to attend yet another couples’ dinner with The Biker’s friends. I also don’t mind watching his dog for the afternoon, or stopping by to water his plants when he’s traveling. (Thank God, they’ve survived my less-than-green thumbs so far!)

I don’t know if I’ve found a genuine diamond in the rough, or I’m merely getting to a stage in my life where settling down with a collie, a Chrysler, and a condo doesn’t sound like such a bad deal. My friends all say I look fantastic, but I mostly attribute that to the undeniable powers of superlatively wondrous sex!

I do suspect that the time may have come to try and really love someone, warts and all, for an extended period of time. A smart Indian woman I sometimes run into at the gym, once told me she thought so many people today are depriving themselves when channel-surfing through relationships. Not only do they miss out on the possibility of a fulfilling relationship, they also miss out on the chance to get to know themselves. After all, isn’t it true that the majority of the bumps and humps in relationships are caused by “repeat offenders”? Meaning that your hang-ups and pet peeves tend to follow you around like a stray puppy. I think so, anyway.

So, granted it is way too soon to tell whether the Biker and I will last till the very end, and ride into the sunset on a white tandem bike together. (God forbid.) All I know is that I’m crazy about this boy, and I’m about to have a hell of a time finding out what happens next!

Au revoir everyone, be good. And if you can’t, be good be careful.


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