holy weekends

My Easter brunch looked something like this:

And boy oh boy, I couldn’t have been happier.  Not because I was sitting across from the lovely Mr. D on a patio enjoying the gorgeous Atlanta weather, but because I’ve been dying for some Mexicana for-freaking-ever.  At least a couple weeks anyway.

There were no eggs, no candy, no ham, no baskets.  Just some lovely fajitas in the sun followed by 2 hours lying on the couch in his living room watching No Strings Attached.  Appropriate, no?  I thought it was quite cute, but I love predictable, mindless romantic comedies.  Just my style.  And it seems I always watch these cutesy movies with him.  Damn him.

I was fairly certain I wouldn’t remain strong yesterday, but turns out I did.  The nice thing about Mr. D is that he’s not the pushy, or even very aggressive, type.  He can be when it’s necessary, but with me he knows that I’m trying to avoid the heartache that will surely come again if we go back to that spot and he respects it.  Every so often he’ll do something flirty or suggestive, but if something were to happen at this point it would have to be of my doing.  And likely involve alcohol.

And that was my day of jesiis.  Without any calling out for god.

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