It’s like having a baby; if you wait until the right time, you’re never going to do it. There is no right time, conditions are not ever perfect, and you just drive on with what you’ve got and hope for the best.

He and I both have all sorts of external stressors going on. They’re fairly heavy loads to lay on new lovers. But he says he can handle mine and I can handle his.

His stories are his to tell, but mine are mine to splash all over the internet if I so choose. You know about my Grampa, who’s actually doing pretty well. He’s been getting up and dressed every day and is planning on going out to play bridge on his usual Wednesday this week. They’ve called in Hospice, which will smooth the road when they actually need that service.

My other stressor is the whole lump thing. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster. My boob-squishing results were negative and my surgeon convinced me that everything was normal. Normal, but go in for an ultrasound just to be sure.

An ultrasound that I can plainly see a lump on. Yeah, not so much with the reassuring. The tech said that she was sure it was just a lymph node, but when I get a message on my machine that cheerfully says that they’ve scheduled me for a biopsy, I’m all over the worrying again. That will be on Thursday, and if I want my hand held, he has volunteered. I don’t know if I’ll need it yet, or if I want a new boyfriend to have to face that with me.

Having someone’s arms to run to is so very reassuring. It’s having a center of calm in a tropical storm of a life, and I think he feels the same way. We’re getting to know each other better all the time, and I have yet to spot any red flags. I’ve only clicked so well with someone twice before in my life; I married one of those and lived with the other one. I’m not saying that this will turn into that, because the dice have no memory, but I like it and I’m appreciating him for all I can.

So yes, it was a nice weekend.