My husband and I fell in love after a phone call. Anybody remember pre-Internet personal ads? Wow.
Seven hours one night, then six hours the next (I refused to meet him for a date the night after the first call simply because it was my "off" day from the gym, and I wanted to be pumped...yeesh!) We finally met in the freezing cold, and he still makes fun of me to this day, peeping out from a bomber jacket and a baseball cap and looking like a bus had hit me.
We fell HARD, both of us. It was so absurd that we didn't tell friends for weeks, because they would have thought us insane. (especially mine, who were so used to cleaning up after my spills that they formed their own support group.)
I never looked back. 16 years. We've been through a world of hurt in that time, and a hundred worlds of unspeakable bliss. He still makes me stupid, no matter how pissed off or how much we might take each other for granted in those foolish and unintentional ways we manifest out of habit. He is the kindness that has afforded me my selfishness, and the moral compass that keeps me on course. He'll tell you all kinds of shit I do for him, but don't believe him. LOL
And yet, I fall in love with alarming regularity, or at least I could, but over the years I've learned to monitor that, and to understand the narcotic of what really isn't love, but is Limerence (n. - the involuntary cognitive and emotional state of intense romantic desire for another person.) It's fun, lots of fun, but not good to follow it to it's next logical manifestation unless you are truly available, so ... oh, man, that's another lesson.
Look, I'll own up - men make me stupid. Well, the right men. Men who fill their space with something more than ego. That thick, full back tapering into a pair of unpretentious jeans, a set up traps pulling just the right way on a polo shirt, or, oh....man...a watch on a perfect forearm, EVEN when wearing nothing but jams and sunglasses on the beach. That turns my head, and opens up a whole sensory overload that can pretty much take me to the ground if it's backed up with something substantial, something that isn't "worn" or "advertised". It's just ownership, and you can't fake it.
Men who are truly men and not silly, or cruel. Mind you, I may not Queen out personally, but I have dear uber-queeny friends and colleagues, but not partners. (Okay, trying too hard to appease a factor who isn't even reading this....anyway)
So, YES, fall down hard. Go for it. It's okay. It sucks if it doesn't work, but it's better for you than booze, better than blow, and almost as good as that blood rushing into your biceps on that perfect set (almost).
Why NOT fall down stupid crazy? There's just no good excuse in my book. And bravo to him, by the way, for playing it out and teasing the anticipation. What could feel better than wanting to grab him by the collar and cup his ears while you burn his face with your stubble a'la Brokeback? Yes, yes, yes! Enjoy the fall, pray that you don't stumble or get a hard right-hook to the heart, and get up and go looking for it again if you do.