Gettin' to Know J-Dawg

After visiting his dairy, J-Dawg and I decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have a couple more meet-and-greets. (Actually, neither of us could wait to see each other again!) He decided he'd come out my way, but trying to find something to do in dry, arid, southern New Mexico isn't incredibly easy. Luckily, the thought of White Sands excited him.

I decided to meet him in a town about an hour away from my house, so it would cut his drive down. I was so concerned with getting done up that I  was late meeting him. I felt horrible! This was an interview of sorts, and my actions would leave him to believe I was unconcerned about punctuality. I'm always on time though! (*cough* Bull! *cough*). Not only was I running late, but my stomach was in knots, nervous to see him again. Once I finally arrived, after leaving J-Dawg to sit at the Chili's parking lot all by his lonesome, we had a huge reunion hug and smiled warmly at one another.

We went inside, were seated, and the waitress came to take our drink orders. Suddenly, I heard him reply "a glass of milk please." This may not sound like a shocker that a dairy kid orders milk, right? Yes, its really not, but for me, it had a whole different meaning. I have been teased my whole life for ordering milk with dinner while out at a restaurant. It used to embarrass my brothers and they'd ask me to "please order a grown-up drink" when we went out. Then each time, whether it be from my brothers, the waitress/waiter, or someone sitting at the table next to me, I'd hear cracks such as "would you like it in a sippy cup?", or "that's cute, you and my 3-year-old are drinking the same thing!"

Then, when I started dating S, he wasn't okay will me having a glass of milk with dinner either. But for different reasons... "Do you realize you can buy an entire gallon of milk for what you're paying for that one glass!? Get water, its free!" 'Fine, fine' I thought all the while wondering when someone would just let me be me, and not give me grief for it.

The waitress came back with our two large chilled glasses of milk. We each took big chugs and smiled at one another with milk mustaches. I must admit, I kept thinking "Milk really has done his body good." : ) We began eating our meals, and my my nerves had finally settled. We sat and chatted for about an hour and half and finished our meals. Feeling fat, dumb, and happy, we hit the road.

When we got back to my house, I poured us each a glass of wine and struck up conversation. I pulled some questions out of the 'get to know him better' file, and was excited about his responses. "Did he study beforehand?" I thought to myself. 'How could someone be so down-to-earth and handsome?'  The conversation went on and on and there was never a dull nor awkward moment. Before I knew it, it was 4 am, yet it felt like no time had passed by at all.Then, in an intensely romantic instant, our eyes had locked and I felt a first kiss coming on. I waited patiently, gazing into those steel blue-grey eyes of his. Time passed and nothing. My impatience caught up with me and I blurted out "Are you gonna kiss me or not?!" He had a huge grin and ignoring his shyness, leaned in for the sweetest, most passionate kiss I had ever experienced.

At 5am, sleep was a necessity before we'd even consider heading to White Sands. We snuck in numerous zzzz's and hit the snooze button like clockwork (hahaha). At about noon, we grabbed some lunch and rolled out. It was actually a really nice day to go check out the mountainous desert land made of gypsum. We parked his truck and found a spot with the least amount of tourists. We ran up and down the mountains, enjoyed the cool sand on our feet, and appreciated the cloud cover that brought cooler temps. It was a very relaxing and simple trip, making J-Dawg and I feel at complete ease with one another.



We decided it was time to head back to the house after a long day of playing in the sand. After cleaning up and removing all the gypsum from places it never should have been, we decided to lay low for the evening, and discuss what to do the following day--- Easter Sunday. I tried convincing J-Dawg all week that we could see each other another weekend, so that he could spend Easter with his family.  He said, "No, honestly it's fine. We can hang out on Friday and Saturday and I'll head back early Sunday morning. My parents won't mind, promise."

All the while feeling incredibly guilty that J-Dawg wasn't spending all of the Easter weekend with his family, I came up with a great plan. I was heading north to see my folks and grandparents, so I figured we could just leave super early in the morning and he could get on the road from Abq, because it would shorten his drive (this has become customary  - trying to figure out how to make the 5 hour drive shorter for one another).

Sunday morning rolled around, and neither of us were in the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed type mood. Instead we were feelin' quite content with the idea of time freezing and the world standing still, all to allow us to stay cuddled up on the couch together, in pj's, with ours cups of coffee. Although we were soaking up every minute of that moment, Easter was my favorite holiday and I was more than excited to share it with my family and ..... then *BAM*!!! the thought hit me... 'we're already late getting on the road, and I'm not gonna let J-Dawg leave without eating'.

I looked to him and asked "What time were your folks expecting you? Do we need to get you on the road?"
"No," he replied, in his sweet calm voice. "I told them I'd probably be home this afternoon or night. Why, what's up?" With fear in my voice, as it was only the second date, I asked "Would you like to have Easter dinner with my family?" Although I was scared, he replied with "Sure!" and was enthusiastic. Did he know what he had just signed up for?

I called my mother to let her know I was on my way and non-nonchalantly asked if she or the grandparents would mind if I brought a "guest". She knew exactly who I was speaking of, and immediately call my grandpa and said "Set the table for one more please".

We drove up to the folks, and I prepared myself for this first interaction between boy-who-I'm-sure-hung-the-moon-and-stars and retired-parents-who-play-with-dogs-for-a-living. My parents are very sweet and kind people, but are also skeptical about my choice in men (rightfully so- Exhibit A: Butthead, Exhibit B: S.). We sat down in the living room, and chatted for awhile, trying to warm everyone up to another. Mom was tense, worried she say the wrong thing. Dad's guard was up and was havin' a semi-"fuzzy brain" day (a story to be explained later).

J-Dawg was sweet and kind as ever, and never once changed into the "Ope, I need to impress the parents" mode. (I love that about him, what you see is what you get. He's straight up and honest, and although he is considerate of others' feelings, he is not obsessed with impressing everyone. He is who is he is.) He told my parents about the dairy, about growing up in Friesland, and was thoroughly excited that Dad was flipping back and forth between the History Channel and the Military Channel.

Mom said it was time to head up to Abq for Easter dinner. J-Dawg and Dad said their goodbyes and it was nice to meet you's.We got to the grandparents and introduced J-Dawg to them. It began to feel redundant, so I could imagine how he felt. Something I forgot to mention but you may have already suspected... J-Dawg has this beautiful European accent. But because of this, when he introduces himself and says his name in Frisian, people have a hard time understanding him. Especially my gun-deaf father and elderly grandparents.

After numerous attempts were made, my grandparents learned J-Dawg's name. We said prayer and then sat down to eat. Once again J-Dawg had to explain his life story to my family, yet everyone was very interested, and he didn't mind answering their questions. All was going well until my uncle, the car oil salesman, started to talk to J-Dawg about this oil he could sell J-Dawg for his tractors. Then the biggest no-no word of all hit J-Dawg's ears like a loud GONG! .... "organic".

Oh no, did my uncle really just try and sell the guy I'm trying to impress organic motor oil?!?!? Insert hand pressed to forehead in embarrassment. 

As a farmer who has always believed in doing things right, and only giving his cows the best, J-Dawg knows that 'organic' is just a word that's stamped on products to give them marketing and media hype. The USDA only recently came out with a "USDA Organic" label, to assure that products are actually organic. But whatever the case, I side right along J-Dawg, some farmers, ranchers and other agriculturalists who turn their nose to the new marketing blitz of labeling products "organic".



Anyway, back on topic. J-Dawg politely told my uncle "no, thank you but thanks". There was an odd, long awkward silence following, so I asked my grandmother (who suffers from dementia) how she was. She was doing pretty well that day and wanted to tell me about something my mom did, but forgot my mother's name. She pointed and said, "Yeah, her!" Yet, to all of our surprise, my grandma was right on the ball when she talked about "Traci's boyfriend" moments later. My mom wasn't offended at all, and thought J-Dawg was pretty dang special for my grandmother to remember who he was, and his name.

We finished dinner and had to get J-Dawg on the road. I walked him out, stood at his dark blue F-150, and questioned him on his current state. "Well that wasn't too terrible, was it? How are you?" Rubbing his stomach, and smiling, he replied "Full. And your family is very nice. I had a good time." Although I knew his sentiments were sincere, I wasn't understanding J-Dawg's adjectives- 'good' and 'nice'? To an American, these words mean 'mediocre'.  I worried he had reservations about me and my family.

Deciding to discuss it later, I walked to his door, hinting that he needed to get on the road. I didn't want him to leave and he didn't want to go, but I cared about his safety and wanted him to get home at a reasonable hour. The practical and considerate side of me told me to let go of his hand and let him leave, while the selfish and attached part of me would have stayed outside with him all night. He offered to take me back home with him and telling him no was like telling Charlie Sheen to stop being socially retarded-- very difficult. He said he would text me along the way  call me when he got home.

Little did either of us know, these difficult goodbyes would continue for the next three months, and would never get easier. These blogs will continue to chronicle my and J-Dawg's crazy weekend adventures, until one day (hopefully), we will no longer be 300 miles apart.