Chariots of Fire?

So I went running the other day. You know, trying to get back in shape and all. And while I'm running, I notice a smoky scent wafting toward my nostrils.

"It's not a burn day today, is it?" I pondered. Looking around, I saw no telltale piles of smoldering leaves lingering about anywhere. And yet, I still smelled something burning.

I kept running - pretty darn proud of the job I was doing, not having passed out and dropped to the ground or anything - and I began to notice a bit of a haze making its way up from the ground into my line of sight, and again my nostrils were assaulted by the smoldering pestilence. So I stopped running for a minute, in an attempt to ascertain exactly where this smoke was coming from. But then the smoke dissipated, as well as the odoriferous eminations which accompanied it.
Having thought nothing of it, I picked up and carried on with my jog, only to be molested, once again, by the smoke and haze.

I stopped... no more smoke. I ran again... more smoke.

At long last - and quite out of breath due to the extra strain of stopping and starting a ridiculous number of times - I ordered a cease and desist agaisnt my futile attempt at exercise. In frustration, I rested my hands on my thighs and bent down to catch my breath for a minute.

It was then that I noticed what had been eluding me for the past 10 minutes. How it escaped my attention I'll never know. But as I looked down, inhaling some extra oxygen for my tired body, I noticed the bright orange - and, at that point, faintly flickering flames - dancing skyward from between my legs.

That's right... the friction from my ample thighs was just enough to, over the course of 15 minutes, start a full on, smores-roasting, miniature campfire right where the chub meets.

Sweet. Where are the marshmallows when you need them?

Mystery solved, embarrassment at its peak, I decided to suck it up and run the rest of the way home, straddling an imaginary tight rope for the rest of the trip, determined to keep Smoky the Bear at bay.

Next stop: Walgreens... aisle 7... Desitin creamy.

Oh joy.

English 101

Once upon a time, there was a girl in search of her happily ever after; her very own Prince Charming; her knight in shining armor... slightly polished armor, anyway. That dreamy-eyed girl in search of the Hollywood happy ending is me. I have had two close calls in the past, relationships that came close to fitting the bill; either one of them could have been 'the one'. Lucky for me they missed their mark, because I have recently found bachelor number three. If the best things come to those who wait, then lucky number three might just be my lucky number one; the Lancelot to sweep this eagerly awaiting Gwinevere off of her feet.

The first encounter I had with a potential true love was the first encounter I had with love, period: my high school sweetheart. We started dating the summer before my sophomore year. He was 3 years older than I was, but the age difference didn't matter to him. He wooed and won, and we began down a path which I was sure would lead to marriage. Yes, at sixteen, I was sure that we were going to be together forever. But after two and a half years of love, jealousy, and leaving for the military, it was clear that we both needed to go our own ways. Years later, we found each other once again, and tried to make another go at things, sure that we had been reunited for a reason. But again, as before, our lives seemed destined to go their separate ways. And so passed Bachelor Number One.

A few long-term relationships - and several years - later brought the next potential man of dreams into view. The first time we met, we became fast friends, complete with instant chemistry, intense honesty, and a sincere respect for each other. We got along swimmingly, laughed endlessly, loved unconditionally, and spent every waking moment possible in each other's company. We shared a unique honesty and so many wonderful memories with each other that after a few years, thoughts of more than friendship danced across the stages of our minds. As it turned out I may have been the only one harboring thoughts of a harmonious future together. It wasn't much more than a year later when malignant notes of discord reverberated throughout our little corner of the world. And now we find ourselves barely acquaintances and no longer friends, pacing off in opposite directions toward lives that would no longer parallel. Say goodbye to Bachelor Number Two.

Which brings me to the present, and to my very latest candidate. He is my perfect match in so many ways. We have innumerable similarities in our personalities, and our likes, our hobbies, our intelligence, and our tastes are amazingly akin to each other. He's also tender, attentive, intelligent, well read, and a man with a very strong spirit and strong spirituality to match. He's tall, dark and handsome, athletic and fit, and doesn't mind that I'm short, freckled and a little extra round in the middle; heck, he even kind of likes that! We spend hours on the phone with each other, talking, listening, and gleaning as much as we can about each other across the wires. One major obstacle stands in our way; more of a hindrance, really, than a full-on stopping point: we live almost two hours apart. We do, however, get to see each other on weekends, usually every other, sometimes every three. This time we get to spend in each other's company goes beautifully, but always entirely too fast. So each visit feeds the desire to plan our next one, and we make our way forward, learning more about each other and enjoying the ride. Next stop for Bachelor Number Three - my heart. I hope he's gentle.

Distance in an established relationship is not always easy; it's even harder when a relationship is trying to get off the ground. Luckily, my fellow of late likes me enough to keep skipping hand in hand down Potential Relationship Avenue toward the intersection of Dating and More.