After the debacle of the boys and calling off men for the summer of 2012 and planning for all my romance to be of my own design with my girls … After deciding I loved my little house and my little life – I sat at my friend Amanda’s and I met a boy. Nice enough boy.

A month later I decided to make a play for the boy. As you do. Because you can. I put on a black dress that Piper sent me, I did my hair. I did accidental touches. I talked about tight jeans and red dresses. He later told me I was simply fishing with dynamite.

The next day we started chatting on facebook… then the texts… several hundreds of texts and he came over. Into the awkward of “oh, so this is how it is going to be . . .” The transition didn’t take *so* long though.

I was (and am) determined to show him who I am. Actual Me. Actual Dawn. One of the things that I like about him is he knows who he is. I finally know who I am, and I’m not going changing for someone. I’ve tried all my life to be “the girl” for “the boy” and funny how when I gave up on that and just let my own freak flag fly high, there was the matching flag to mine.

He is my geeky boy, of DnD and always skinny dipping with his crazy friends (the boys and the girls – shy my boy is not). Shooting things, skinning things, hard cider drinking, reading Fifty Shades of Grey against his will.

We quickly fell into “adore”. Studiously avoiding any use of any word that might start with an L. Too quick? Too hurt? Too crazy?

Too true.

A thousand texts and messages in, we were all dressed up at a party. On a crowded porch, we just kept looking at each other – and there it was. Oh shit. Yeah. THIS is happening. And it ain’t to toy with, and it ain’t casual and holy shitballs hang on, cuz this merry-go-round just got a whole new speed.

Determined not to say “it” first, I again broke my own rules and said, “If I tell you something, will you not run scared?” He nodded. I said, “I left adore behind a while back.”

He let out the laugh that knows. “Oh thank God, it’s not just me.” We let our our sighs of relief that while it was all new and scary and unexpected, it was also balanced and crazy and celebrateable (is too a word!)

The night before I left on my roadtrip, he declared I was leaving with a hickey so all the world would know I was his. I thought he was kidding. Won’t underestimate that threat again.

As I rolled the miles east, he texted he was with his friends. In the pool.

Bright green jealousy blasted across my world. Splatted with orange rage. MY BOYFRIEND. MINE. No naked pool time!

I tried to shake it off. Decided I wasn’t shaking off shit and replied with essentially the above thought. NO. MINE! Do not LIKE!!!!

He replied with “I am yours.”


I was armed for bear. Every vanilla lecture about modesty I have ever heard coming to mind. Things are different now! How can you not see! Raging against myself. MINE! Not for others to see! MINE! My inner toddler RAGED.

“Would it help if I told you I am in swim trunks?”

The white paintballs of peace shot and spattered across my jealousy and rage, covering them. Oh. …



I didn’t have to fight to be heard. I didn’t have to explain myself, my feelings, my argument. I didn’t have to be validated. There was no war of words. I did not have to beg to be understood.

It was simple. I am yours. He may have marked me as his own, but he also marked himself as mine with a yard of fabric and a hell of a lot of respect.

So my summer of 2012 will be filled with a different kind of romance. Still the girls and the me time, but also this boy who shows his love with words and actions – like epic hickeys and swim trunks.