Were meant to lose the people we love, or how else do we know we care for them...

They called him the guy with tattoos on his arms, the tall skinny guy, the guy with the perfect rowing body...they were talking about my Man in Waiting. I had asked one of my new teammates, as I had just joined a rowing team(I will be the coxswain, more on that later), to ask him if he wanted to sit in as they had a boat of seven but needed eight. I hoped he would join, he belongs on the water, he moves beautiful in a boat. He just finished up doing yoga though, he was relaxing on the deck. I was nervous to ask him.

He joined us. He was lead stroke. I joined the coach as he was teaching me terminology and rules of the river. I couldn't take my eyes off my Man in Waiting. He looked amazing, strong. He is actually 40 years old, 13 years older than me.

I joined the team on the sweep a little bit, the coach pulled the cox and put me in. I was sitting right across from Man in Waiting. He was my coach on that short trip. I listened to him, as unsure as I was, I felt comfortable, knowing that I was in charge of 8 other people, knowing he was there to help me.

When the team was finished, I waited for my Man in Waiting, I wanted to see him, talk to him, but I didn't know where to start. Women were staring at him, waiting there turn, even men were staring at him, jealous of his confidence and that women were not looking at them...

I stopped myself from speaking to him, I didn't want my teammates to know that we were familiar with one another, I wanted to give him a chance to talk to the other women that were there.

The prettiest girl there, tall, lithe, blond, and slightly eccentric could not take her eyes off of him. She wanted to talk to Man in Waiting so bad, I felt sorry for her that she was so obvious. While they were conversing I talked to some other people and finished my beer. I had asked him earlier if he needed a ride home as he road his bike to the boathouse, he said yes. I walked past Man in Waiting and the lithe blonde to the ladies room, as I came out she was gone and he was calling my name.

We fit his bike in my truck(SUV, I hate the word though) and I talked the whole way to his house. I told him everything that had happened that day and how much I have been working, but how happy it has made me. He smiled at me, later he told me it was because he enjoyed seeing me excited.

When we pulled up to his house, I didn't want to see him go in. I wanted to hold him and tell him how much I missed him.

We talked instead. A good, long talk.

So much was said, maybe too much. I realize that I loved him too early, but I love him still. There is something about my Man in Waiting. We might never be together and I may never understand him, nor may he ever understand me. He wait's for now, he wait's for me to figure out what I want, who I want, if it's him or Boy Wonder, or whom ever.

There is a lot more to this story, but it's time for bed.