Expect the unexpected

It was the evening (at least in my time zone) of April Fool's Day. I was doing a rare DJ gig at the Velvet, thanks to Jasper. We had a pretty good crowd there when the sim restarted after the usual five minutes notice. Some left, some stayed until, boom, everyone was blown off. But I did not lose the stream, since that's not part of the sim. I logged back in to my home, kept cueing up songs, and tried to teleport to Romero repeatedly until the sim finally let me back in. I was the first to return. Pretty soon, we had a pretty good crowd again.

She was among the second wave. I'd sent out the usual Velvet announcement, but either she hadn't received it or she'd just gone in world. At any rate, she came by to listen to the rest of my set, to dance, and to chat with me.

I've known her for quite a long time, in Second Life terms, and we've talked from time to time. I had never had a chance to know her well. She was often busy doing her job. I would flirt with her when we'd both be at the Velvet, but it never went very far. Yes, I know, I was married at the time. Bad me. She didn't go for that sort of thing.

I've been single for many months now, but I've been busy with first-life school, turning myself into a real counsellor. It's only recently I've had much time to spend in world. I've been kind of lonely in SL, but I wasn't looking for love. At the Velvet on April 1, however, something was different between us. Our chat was playful. Hers seemed to suggest more than I thought would ever happen.

After my set, we spent time together, mainly talking, and holding each other some, staying up way too late. After that, we made contact on and off, more off than on. I thought maybe something wasn't going well. In first life, I'm pretty self-confident, but in SL I'm often insecure. She's a bit of a mystery, and I don't always read her very well. Days would go by without a peep. My friends had to put up with my self-pity.

Then, two days ago, I saw her on Gtalk, and I rang her up. The response was cheery and inviting. She's also a DJ, and she was doing an early set at the Velvet. I popped over there and danced for a while with her and some friends. It got on toward supper time for me, so I had to leave. Just before I left, I heard it: I love you.

I was floored, in a good way, but floored nonetheless. I said it back, because I really meant it, but had not dared say it before. What had been very tenuous became much less so. There has been more talk, more dancing, more sharing.

I am very happy. I am intrigued. This woman is very intelligent. She is not easy to get to know. There's a lot going on with her, and she is not the open book that I am. (She thinks I'm not, but I am.) I want to know more, and I will be patient in getting there. I want to share myself with her. She says she's not special. She's wrong. I wouldn't be with anyone who isn't special.

This isn't head over heels. We're both still cautious, despite what we each blurted out that evening. We're testing the water, feeling our way forward. I think about her a lot. It's good. It's scary. It's exhilarating. I feel vulnerable, and wonderful.