Witchy Woman

The Christian is intense; I don’t think that’s a surprise based on my last post about him. He also has amazing physical restraint. I mean Tuesday night was another passionate night of talking, laughing, and a whole lot of physical affection. Our words were tripping over each other almost as much as we kissed. We even wound up naked in his bed and yet we didn’t have sex. Believe me I wanted to, but he wasn’t about to bend. After we seemed to get this long burst of physical connection tamped down we went back down stairs and lay on his loveseat for the next two hours listening to of all things – Willie Nelson (haha Jules made me think of my first trip to Hawaii when I pushed play in Russell’s car and Willie Nelson started singing) – and mostly just enjoying the silence and physical presence of each other.

It was a really interesting night. Different from Monday in that Monday it was more of a flavor of The Christian “owning” me from a physical sense and Tuesday felt more like him “owning” me from an intimacy sense. It’s hard to describe. I can’t quite put my finger on the words I’m searching for.

On my way home that night I looked in the rearview mirror and laughed at myself. My hair was totally sexed up, my eye makeup was blurry, and I had a very satiated look on my face. In addition I was in a very thin silky dress and in a rare moment of cest’la vie I had not worn a bra that night. The ride home was uneventful other than a few deer spottings until I got about a quarter of a mile from my home and what did I encounter in my mussed, heady state – a freaking license check. I haven’t felt that much like a teenager since I was well, a teenager. With much chagrin I gave the officer my license, registration, and I’m pretty sure a peep show when I bent to retrieve those very items.

The Christian and I aren’t seeing each other again until Friday night so yesterday was just emails and texts – some very very hot possessive texts I may add. And then out of the blue he sent me a poem. Like a really good one too. Except for the whitest black guy on Earth whom I dated my sophomore year in college I’ve never had anyone write me a poem. It was pretty cool.

Last night we talked and talked and talked yet again. I’m a journalist by nature and I find it fascinating to listen to people talk and ask them questions about their lives, choices, and experiences. In some ways The Christian and I have very similar backgrounds but in others they are diabolically different.

One of the best tidbits I have not shared about him yet is about his ex-wife. They met in college and quickly followed the route that Duckie and I did with getting married. As we were talking about our divorces it went something like this…

C – Well I’ve been officially divorced for almost two years now. We were married for about five years and we get along fairly well now. We stay out of each other’s lives for the most part but we parent well together.


M – Oh that’s great. That sounds a lot like me and my ex. We were really different people but we always parented well together and still do to this day.


C – Yeah we were pretty different alright (chuckling).


M – Sounds like a story there.


C – Well here’s the thing. My ex is a witch.


M – Ha ha! I hear ya.


C – No really. She’s a witch.


M – I thought you said yall got along.


C – We do. She’s a witch. Think hat, broomstick, the whole shebang.


M – (internal dialogue – HOLY SHIT do I find guys with the best stories ever!)

Yeah his ex is a witch, as in a Wiccian. I know some people who practice Wicca don’t call themselves a “witch” but she does according to him. Apparently she was dabbling in it when they met and she “converted” so to speak to Christianity and then about three years into their marriage she went back to it. He, being a fairly devout Christian, was not ok with it but said as long as she didn’t do it around the kids they’d work through it. About a year later she told him she wanted him to accept her beliefs and accept the fact she was a witch and he said he couldn’t do it based on his belief in the Bible.

Then he busted her (via Facebook) cheating on him with of all things a Buddhist. He said he tried to hang in there for a while but one day she told him if he couldn’t accept her as a witch she was going to leave him and then she did.

Is that not a hell of a story or what? The story of The Christian and the Witch sounds like it should be some parable or fable. At any rate, it’s made for some damn good conversations.

Miranda