out with the old

in with the new. 2009 smiles on me, though i'm hungover and tired.
i found the perfect outfit to wear to the pirate themed party, on the day of the party, at the local farmer's market, from an awesome local designer, for a very reasonable price. you can't plan things like that. i drank a cup of kava, my drug of choice, before heading out to meet my new friends. smart thinking, i felt invincible, jamming to 80's tunes and ready to party. i arrived at the house of friend A, met a guy from latrobe (the town in PA where rolling rock is brewed), had a beer and assessed the attractiveness of friend A. we left for the party in one vehicle which smelled like crayons, drove up a gorgeous winding road cloaked in the secrecy of night to a place called hawi, at the northernmost tip of the island. the house was subtly magnificent, an old plantation house made of wood with many doors inside and out, broad windows, spacious enough to house a canoe containing a skeleton in the livingroom/dancefloor. music comfortably pumping through the large but simple rooms and spilling out three doorways into the soft grass covered grounds. the people greeted me with broad smiles, a handshake and a kiss on the cheek, a charming custom in these parts. i was not a stranger for long. before i located the bottle opener on the wall, i was trying to open my beer with a spoon when a tall drink of water saw my attempt and attempted to save the day. i let him. dimples kill me, i cannot resist them and why would i want to?
since i didn't understand the dynamic with friend A yet, i returned the flirtatious smile to my savior and lingered when he flashed his eyes at me. a brief exchange confirmed he was pleased to make my acquaintance, then i walked away to give him something to chase.
i met all kinds of people, a brit who rides triumphs, two sisters who were couchsurfing, a dog named guiness, a quirky dance partner, and some girls who were dressed for a mardi gras party. i felt like i had seen the house before, and when i found out the name of the host, it all became clear. when i visited the island last year, i had lined up a couchsurfing stay with him, though i never made it to that part of the island. i recognized the house from the pictures and description. how very small this island is.
the midnight hour arrived and friend A offered a kiss, though it landed more on my cheek, he was noncommittal. it did make me think that perhaps he was interested after all.
then the party really got rolling, and my savior was hunting me down. i would talk to him for a while, then walk away, he'd follow. he was kind of innocent which surprised me, and i couldn't deny there was chemistry happening, though something about him made me feel like i was 16. not altogether bad, but not where i want to be at 30. at one point he lured me out on the grounds to a garden shed with two other people who mysteriously disappeared. he kissed me in dramatic fashion, told me about his broken heart and how he just wants to be loved. standard issue young adult novel material, but i was tipsy enough to entertain him and just ate it up. i didn't want to disappear from the party for long, i needed to leave with friend A to get back to my car, so we wandered back. he asked me to stay, he offered to take me home, he might have even pleaded, but i had already made up my mind. i gave him my number, remarked offhandedly that he'd never call, and left with friend A and guy from PA.
once we were back at his house, friend A made a move. he was cute, it was late, and apparently his ambivalence dissolved. we embarked on an intentional kiss. i wasn't too sure about him, and i wasn't too sure about anything. i went to bed unsure how things would look in the morning. and sure enough, i'm still confused.
friend A regained his ambivalence, i went home and pondered the events of the evening, and then my savior called. from his parent's phone because his got shut off. he lives with them at age 25. again, not the worst thing in the world, but perhaps a sign of his immaturity. maybe he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he certainly is pretty.