The Rekindling

We broke up on my own accord in the past. It got to the point where we weren’t going forward and going backward seemed like a hazy déjà vu. I felt like our relationship was becoming that of the worse kind, comfortable. When you get comfortable in your relationship, you feel like it isn’t necessary to do things to keep the other intrigued and wanting you. I’ve always said that being in a relationship is like a roller coaster where the rails that keep the ride going is L-O-V-E. There are always ups and downs in a relationship, but do you go along for the adventure or do you ride with your eyes closed, scared to open them?

We weren’t quite dating anymore, but it was obvious that we were heading down that road again. Between the long conversations, walks in the park, and continuous phone calls I was beginning to forget we broke up in the first place. I guess it’s true what they say, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder and presence makes it feel complete.”

It was the 5^th or 6^th week since we began our foundation building extravaganza and I was really getting to like it. Actually I was loving it; we were doing things that we had only talked about in the past, but time and no desire had prevented us from taking those essential times necessary to keep a relationship fresh.

Now that the option of not being together was floating in the air, he was doing his best to wine me, dine me, and keep me for the long haul. And I was doing my best to accept his advances while keeping my ego at bay and heart open to the possibilities.

Through this process we learned some new things and rekindled some previous things about each other. We spent more time together in the past month than we had in the final few weeks of our relationship.

Today, being a not so special occasion, we decided to try out a new restaurant. Our restaurant rotation is normally as follows: Local Mexican restaurant, Downtown nostalgic burger joint, Famous pizza spot, and Greatest Italian place ever. Although we weren’t tired of the rotation, we figured it would be a good night to try something different…something sexy.

It was a long time since I’d had my stomach become entangled in knots, but the “fresh and new” excursion was definitely adding some positive anxiety to our night. I stepped outside wearing a strapless, earth tone, multi-colored striped maxi dress. A dress that was sure to force him to look at my ample cleavage all night. ;)

I stepped in his car, feeling slightly awkward about whether to lean over for a kiss or be overtly friendly and simply say hello. Since we weren’t sure if a kiss was appropriate at the present time in our…situation, he instead kissed my hand and told me I looked beautiful.

We arrived at Café Divan, one of Atlanta’s sexiest and nicest Mediterranean restaurants. The valet took his keys and parked his car ensuring to give him his ticket. We stepped into the restaurant and was greeted by the aromatics of fruity hookahs, the essence of roasted herbed chicken and lamb, and the romantic atmosphere Café Divan had to offer.

The waitress escorted us to our seat, a private elevated booth with a heavy velvet curtain. It was quite a surprise to me, since I was sure booths like this, in this restaurant HAD to cost a ton of money. Noticing the perplexed look on my face, he simply turned to me and smiled.

I made myself comfortable on the large pillows available as my seat and looked at the menu. Half of the foods couldn’t even be pronounced, but thank God for the English descriptions under the title.

As we fretted over what was “safe” to eat, he ordered us a small hookah requesting the strawberry flavor. Finally after much debating, we ordered. I decided to get the Shish Köfte, an entrée of marinated lamb spiced and grilled; served with rice pilaf and vegetables. He chose the Köy Chicken-chicken breast sautéed with garlic, oregano, fresh tomatoes and mushrooms, his favorite, and served with rice pilaf and vegetables.

As we waited for our meal to be served, we appetized ourselves on the sweet tasting hookah. It was my first time, so he had to teach me what to do: he told me to wrap my lips around the pipe and suck the flavored air into my mouth, savor its flavor and then blow. He also had to teach me precautions like not holding in the smoke and tricks such as how to blow the smoke out of my nose. He tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me how to blow smoke rings, but I settled on irregular ovals.

We had a great conversation, most of it filled with innuendo, increasing the already tensing sexual tension. As he told me about the craziness at his job, my mind wandered to the possibility of “Us” and what that could mean again. My mind wasn’t quite ready for that plunge, but my heart, the eternal optimist, was. I wanted him back; I just needed a sign to know that it would be a good decision for us to try to make it work again.

He faces me, gently placing his finger under my chin, looking deeply into my eyes. For a moment we don’t say anything, allowing the Turkish music and restaurant chatter to be our soundtrack. The butterflies in my stomach do somersaults as I breathe in his cologne, Pleasure by Estee Lauder if my memory serves me right. It’s as if he was searching my soul. Climbing the mountain peaks of my heart, swimming through the currents of my mind, hoping to discover what was and has always been there…my love for him. I look away, excusing myself to the ladies room.

I find myself searching my own soul wondering if my mind and heart have come to a junction. I sigh, absorbing my decision and return to him.

I slide something to him, just as our food arrives.