Talk on the Stairs?

Hoyt and I were pretty big fans of talking on the stairs from the very beginning of being neighbors.  Sometimes, just to hang out. Sometimes, because no one was home and we didn’t want to be alone together in the apartment.  Looking back, I don’t know that it was the wisest habit to form, but it didn’t happen often, and admittedly I’m not great about boundaries when it comes to getting to know people.

So I will say, for Little Grasshopper and everyone else, that no, it wasn’t a good idea to hang out, just us, talking. And all four (I don’t know, some small number) times I should have known better. We didn’t talk about anything inappropriate, sometimes we were just talking through life issues, but I think I should know better than to talk about things like that with dudes. I just don’t think it’s wisest. I’ve got girls in my life girls who know me, and it was unthinking, maybe immature, to go there even if I was positive that there was no way romantic feelings could be involved.

You got that? Either you will get married some day or you won’t. But either way, there’s just no good that comes from getting too emotionally entangled with someone of the opposite sex who ISN’T your spouse.

Be that as it may….

A couple of weeks ago, I was journaling just before bed. Knowing the season I was called to (heck, I’d blogged about it, you knew it too) I wrote (this is a quote):

“I want to be really happy and joyful and content in knowing your plan is for my singleness…I do trust you and believe in you. I seek you because I love you and I know that in you is every good thing.  All else is a petty refection and I want the source.  I want love, I want the real thing.  Daddy i don’t want to worry, I don’t want to stress, but for tonight, will you please just give me good sleep?…”

So, you see, I had two main foci: I wanted to be all wrapped up joyfulness over being single, as that is where God is calling me, and I wanted to sleep.

And no sooner had I closed my journal, clicked off my bedside lamp and closed my eyes than my phone bzzzed. Being a Saturday night, most people knowing I work early on Sundays, I wondered who the devil would be texting me so late.

It was Hoyt. “Talk on the stairs?”

I was half a second from telling him that he only had five minutes because I WANT MY SLEEP when I thought, “What if he just really needs a friend? I don’t want to shut him down if he really just needs a friend.” (faulty logic but it’s what I thought). So I hopped into some jeans in addition to my jammies and, because it was cool outside, a huge terrycloth robe. Which I mention because next post you’ll see some pictures where this becomes an issue.

I grabbed my sippy, came outside, and sat down ready to listen to Hoyt tell me about how he had a hard day because school was crazy or he missed his dad or was upset about having to give up his car…..

And instead, I got the speech.


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