Ass Grabber

A year ago yesterday I met ChaCha.
I remember the day so well because it was the last Saturday I went out before going to treatment at The Moore Center (for eating disorders).
I'd like to tell you about how we met:

I was hung over from the night before and drinking a mimosa while watching the Seahawks game with some friends. I had invited some dude from the night before over to watch part of it-so awkward. He left for his job at Pagliacci's and I went back to focusing on myself.

How mad I was at the amount of money I spent out last night. That I binged when I got home. That I was drinking again when just a quarter ago I was swearing the stuff off. I tried to act engaged while at the bar-trying to pretend I didn't have this nagging anxiety in the back of my mind that I couldn't yet force off because my buzz hadn't kicked in.

I felt alone and lost. And had no hope. Just that I was kind of going through the motions and I didn't give a fuck what I did to myself next. I had hit a pretty low bottom. I couldn't stop drinking. I couldn't stop seeking male attention. I couldn't stop going to the gym. I couldn't stop eating. I couldn't not do anything in excess. And I couldn't stop hating myself. Treatment was on the horizon and I really was regretting not being skinnier before I went in.

As you can tell my priorities were fucked. I was fucked.

During the third quarter I get a text from a number I don't recognize. It says "Hi bella."

Uh. What? I show my friend and we laugh. Who says that?

I text them back something like "Who is this?"

They tell me their name and I still do not have any idea who it is, but I'm having  a sinking feeling in my stomach it's someone I made a total ass out of myself in front of.

And well. I was right.

Not remembering a guy with his name I ended up having the mysterious texter send a picture of himself to me. It was this awkward photo taken as though he just held the phone in his lap and looked down into the camera. All I could see was a beard.

"OH MY GOD-Him." I was brought back to a very dimly lit Cha Cha (the name of the bar) and my hands grabbing the face of a stranger to make fun of his beard. And then leaving. And that was it.

We go on texting a bit and I see something is off.

His English is weird but for some reason he's INSANELY polite. How am I? Did I have fun last night? What am I doing?

I give into my obsession with the movies about love being true and that the one could be anyone at any time so I give him a go.

We talk every day for a little bit. He always says good morning and he always calls me Bella.

The night before our first "date" he sent me a link of his old screamo rock band. I remember being like "is this dude for real?" So weird.

The next night we went to Unicorn, I wanted to be all bad ass and go to a cool bar. He comes up to the hill on his motorcycle (cool points) and shows up in an Abercrombie sweatshirt (lost cool points). I make fun of it. He doesn't understand me and then tells me his parents got it for him.

We walk to The Unicorn and he has to repeat himself every couple of sentences. I find out he's from Madrid and his English needs work. So naturally it was a wonderful idea to take him to a loud dark bar so I can't see his expressions or even try to read his lips while he's barely audible over the music.

I ask him about how we met, since I cannot remember. He proceeds to tell me that I grabbed his butt and then made fun of his beard. He asked for my number because he "I don't know I was just really drunk" and I ran away into the night after that.

CHARMING.

After a drink or two (me with the two him with the half a beer) we walk home. He goes to kiss me. And I'm all like uh no. I am not that person when I'm sober. (I realize now he was just doing the kiss cheek thing all of those fancy Spaniards do). I leave feeling offended he tried to pull a move.

The next morning I wake up to a "Happy Friday!" text. Giving me a weather report about how it's supposed to rain. And he hopes I have a nice day.

And I've pretty much gotten a text like that from him every day since.

Since ChaCha has come into my life I have learned to take things day to day. I have found out that someone will like me for being me, the good and the bad. I found that ED and alcoholism doesn't mean I can't have a healthy relationship. I found out that he cannot say "Tupperware or giraffe" very well. I learned more about the Spanish culture and that there are a ton of them in Belltown. I have found that I call him just to hear his voice. I have memorized what his hand feels like in mine. I can tell when he's had a bad day at work or what joke will make him laugh. I have also learned to stress less and "be more positive" (I can hear him saying that in my head).

I don't think I can properly grasp how much my man means to me in a blog post especially when I'm too lazy to reread it. But ever since I grabbed his ass in that bar I have been a much happier me and I'm so thankful for that.

...
So he just calls me and asks what I'm doing. I tell him I'm blogging. I ask him if he knows what it's about and in the girliest more sarcastic voice he goes "about our one year meeting-ohhhh aww so sweet." What an ass! He's totally right. That's exactly what I'm writing about and he's 'making fun' of it. So I shoot back "Oh fuck you. I'm writing about cats you jerk."

Ah true love.