the casa.

I didn't plan on winning the bet. In fact, I planned on losing--my life so far has assured me little but non-winning situations, so when I casually suggested the wager: a night at Casa Bonita, I never expected to collect. And naturally, when my college football team scored the winning field goal in overtime, I jumped for joy--not just because I won, and not just for my much anticipated and awaited trip to Casa Bonita, but because winning the bet meant another date with Phoenix.

I like spending time with Phoenix. It feels comfortable and easy; he can not only handle my silliness, but he matches it with silliness of his own. I like that there is someone new to hang out with that allows all the seriousness of life to drift away and replace it with nothing but fun.

I am, after all, a professional in my late twenties who usually works too hard, stresses over thin paychecks, and consistently drowns in work, family, and life expectations. In the past, my relationships have mimicked the seriousness of my life--commitment, long-term talks, acting out of obligation, more realism than passion. Not to mention, that I am officially single for the first time in years.

With Phoenix, I'm allowed to just play. No strings, no deep talk, no missing each other when we're apart just laughter and playtime. And for a girl whose been running from her past love affairs, the situation is perfectly perfect.

And so, at Casa Bonita, we played. We played ice ball (a cheap version of skeeball), drank margaritas, watched cliff divers, ran through mock caves and pirates coves, won pirate rings, and rocked out to DDR. The truth is, that night, I laughed until my face hurt. And that's amazing...to have one night of pure joy, tangible fun, measurable happiness is sacred.