Want to hear it one more time.

Can’t.  Stop.  Thinking about Eric.

Especially now that there isn’t a little in bed with me.  I feel like there’s hope. 

Because I’m a girl, I’ve hashed and rehashed Friday night with my friends and my sister.  They all agree on several good points.  One, is that he didn’t have to be there.  He *wanted* to be there.  Two, is that he stayed a good three hours after he said that he should go and an hour after he started his truck.  He was not in a hurry.  Three, he offered up his kennel, dog bowls and leash for my new dog.  (His dog…also a lab I found out…got hit by a car almost a year ago.)  And four, he offered information and backstory on why he and his brother don’t get along.

I’m over analyzing this I know but if he weren’t even a little bit interested, not much of the above would have went down.  There were other things of course, other conversations.  A bunch of laughs.

His laugh is so wonderful that it makes me want to be funny just to hear it one more time. 

The daydreaming has started.  The wondering again about what the kisses might be like or having his arms around me.  I wonder if he’ll call just to say goodnight.  Or if he’ll like my cooking.

Is it him, specifically, or it the idea of him?  I don’t know.  That’s what I don’t know yet.  I’d like to think that it is uniquely him but I can’t be sure right now.