Baby Girl is in love. Really in love.

Oh yeah, Baby Girl is Mister Hombre’s youngest. Technically she is my step daughter, but I am not comfortable with labels. Especially when the label is step daughter, and she’s only seven years younger than me. There, I said it.

By unspoken agreement, I remain “Daddy’s wife” upon formal introductions, because step mother is an uncomfortable label for a woman when she’s only seven years older. We both agree, though on further consideration, I’m not sure what her father thinks, since I have never bothered to ask.

Mister Hombre’s son is three years my junior, but engaged to marry a woman six months older than I am. To remain, “Daddy’s wife” for all involved makes things a wee bit less awkward, but only a wee bit. Given the circumstances, my relationship with the kids is peaceable most days, and really enjoyable the rest of the time. So, yeah, against all odds I’m pretty fucking lucky.

Baby Girl called last week to check on her grandparents. After a few minutes of discussing formalities we delved into small talk. I asked her how her life was treating her. She paused for a moment, and then she gushed about the guy. I’ve know about the guy for eight months. In the early days the guy was a little squirrely, and didn’t know what he wanted. I was a little nervous asking about her life, because I didn’t want her to go to “that place” pining over the guy. After months of waiting, things are beginning to fall into place.

It was in her voice, and in the way she uttered his name. Sometimes it’s too easy for me to think of her like she’s only nineteen, her age when I met her. True to form, she had an adolescent’s fortune when it came to love. Emotionally, she was prone to make each potential love be the love, resulting in devastation and disappointment. I’m pretty sure most of us have been there, if you bothered dating at that age.

She’s had two long term relationships since I’ve been with her father, but I think this is her first “grown-up” love. I haven’t met the guy yet, so it isn’t really practical for me to have an opinion about him. But I have spoken to her, and if I had to guess, I would say she was glowing.

In some ways talking to her was like falling in love all over again. It reminded me of the early days, kissing Mister Hombre on the front steps of my crappy little duplex and making out with him in the yellow chair. It makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck just thinking about it. It gives me that same breathless feeling, knowing that she’s finally experiencing it too.

We talked for a while. Mister Hombre arrived home in the middle of our conversation, amidst all my pacing in the living room, on the deck, and in the studio (I can’t stay still on the phone). Apparently my facial expressions and the partial conversation were of interest and he started following me. I felt guilty, so I asked if she would like to talk to her Dad. Then she gushed at him for a while. Beautiful.

I have no way of predicting if this will be the ultimate the guy, but I hope he will be a good guy to be with for a while. I know that doesn’t sound like much. Every experience can’t be the pinnacle. I only want the best for Mister Hombre’s kids, for my step kids, but life doesn’t come with a suggestion box. For now, I’ll settle for a good moment.