He's a Dream on a Bad Day
Okay, I keep saying I'll write a blog about a nice guy and a good date. Here is my best experience:
I bumped into Bryan online at OKCupid and I thought he seemed cute, intelligent, sincere and like he actually has managed to get all of his shit together in timely manner. I was correct (for once). We had a four-hour phone conversation on the day that we began exchanging messages. It was sunny and warm that day, a Sunday, and I wandered from sun-warmed room to patio talking about scuba diving and parenting and food. It felt like we could talk for days like that. In fact, we did talk for days like that. We started a tradition of talking every night after I put my little one to bed. I taught him about Malbec and he taught me more about scuba diving and the world of logistics.
Within a few days, we were sure we had to meet. Our conversations were incredible. We agreed about everything. We were perfectly compatible from religion (lack thereof more accurately) and politics, vacation destinations and pet choices, education and world views. He was everything I'd been looking for and could even pay for his own dinner.
This guy was a jackpot. I maintain that he still is a jackpot. Some woman is going to be incredibly lucky when he slips a diamond on her finger and asks her to be his world for the rest of his life. And this will happen because he wants a woman to be his adventure partner for the rest of his life. He wants a mother for his unborn children, which I more than likely cannot be. He reads this blog and this will probably be the first he knows of that last part. I hope that he understands why I have been the way I have been.
So, we talked every night. I told him about Gabriel Garcia Marquez and tried to explain the magical realism genre to him. Finally, I suggested that he read "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" and he read it! We then talked about it that night and tried to collectively make sense of an odd story.
He said I should watch "The Abyss"
He paid attention to the things I said and I believed that he valued me for everything that I am, even the less conventional parts. Fuck that, especially the less conventional parts. In retrospect, I was already almost mad for him. I tested him. I tried to get him to say something that went against my morals, my values, my ideals and my thoughts about the world. He never did.
The only flaw I could find was that he didn't love music the way that I always have. I mean, that can easily be fixed. I can teach music love. That I can do. Seriously, if that was his worst flaw, then we were golden, right?
I told him about everything. I didn't hide any of the crazy, any of the pain, any of the scars, the past, the drama or the sordid truth. I shared this blog. He read it. He actually tried. I don't even know how to respond to that from someone who is actually an option for me. My heart cracked from the gentle affection. He helped me feel genuinely happy.
So, for our first date, he arrived at my house to pick me up (WOW!), he complimented my togetherness and I patted myself on the back for getting mostly dressed before taking my little to the grandparents for the weekend, and we hopped into his (environmentally friendly) car.
He had done his research. We went downtown for tapas and Malbec. I ate steak tartare for the first time and fucking loved it. We shared that bottle of wine and we talked the same way that we did on the phone. I can say that I felt marginally awkward, but I kind of always do. I guess that's the curse of the introvert. I had two glasses of wine and I was frankly, a little drunk, but that was okay because he deposited me at my doorstep and I kissed him very sweetly good night on the cheek. It was refreshingly the best date in my recent memory.
So, why didn't I feel anything? I don't know. We connected on so many levels, but I just didn't feel anything. Even writing this, I feel like a total cunt. What is wrong with me that the perfect guy ignited nothing and all the wrong guys set me on fire? I do not understand.
I talked to friends and decided to see him again. We continued our conversations and on the phone, I found myself drawn to him and hoping against hope that when we met again, that warmth would continue. He took me for French. I'd never eaten French food. I bought a new dress, it was black and sleeveless and had that cowl neck that looks so good on me. Pencil thin around my rather toned runner's legs. I bought a pair of cap-toed pumps with tiny laces up the back. I looked great. I don't mean to brag. He picked me up again. I kind of love that.
We went to this little place downtown that he loves and I had fish with a caper, lemon and white wine sauce. It was ridiculous. Something they did when they pan-seared that sucker in butter made the skin crispy and light and perfect. Dessert was this apple tart that was so beautiful I didn't want to eat it. But I was afraid he'd get it all if I didn't. We again shared a bottle of Malbec and talked like we never were apart.
He brought me home again and dropped me at my door. He was wearing this blue sweater and when he drew me in for a goodnight kiss, I knew it had to be cashmere. It was so soft, I wanted to keep touching it! Touching him. He was so sweet, even then, as he gently ran a hand up my ribcage. One of us was feeling some major chemistry. In retrospect, I think that because he was so possible, I pushed him away by refusing to allow him in. I put up that damn wall.
I was still quite sad the first night that he didn't call for our talk. I felt lonely without him. I mean, that's what I always wanted, right? And another day went by. He calls me after a few glasses of red even now and we text our gym stats to each other. He's going to beat my run time pretty soon. I called him when I found out that a dear friend, sick with cancer for many months, finally succumbed to the sickness. I felt better talking to him. How can I write this blog and feel happy and sad at the same time?
Between my failures in dating and the loss of that dear, darling friend, something in me changed.
The past week or so, I've been really reflecting on what it is about me that leaves me feeling lonely and sad for as long as I have. I've begun to really start reflecting inward. I'm seeing my own flaws and weaknesses in a way I never have. Each little crack is a chance to be better. I have this amazing friend to help me along the way now. And I can call him and talk when I'm sad, and he's there. I got lucky and he's certainly got a reference in me. Sweet, amazing, brilliant, affectionate, wonderful Bryan, you changed me. Thank you.
I bumped into Bryan online at OKCupid and I thought he seemed cute, intelligent, sincere and like he actually has managed to get all of his shit together in timely manner. I was correct (for once). We had a four-hour phone conversation on the day that we began exchanging messages. It was sunny and warm that day, a Sunday, and I wandered from sun-warmed room to patio talking about scuba diving and parenting and food. It felt like we could talk for days like that. In fact, we did talk for days like that. We started a tradition of talking every night after I put my little one to bed. I taught him about Malbec and he taught me more about scuba diving and the world of logistics.
Within a few days, we were sure we had to meet. Our conversations were incredible. We agreed about everything. We were perfectly compatible from religion (lack thereof more accurately) and politics, vacation destinations and pet choices, education and world views. He was everything I'd been looking for and could even pay for his own dinner.
This guy was a jackpot. I maintain that he still is a jackpot. Some woman is going to be incredibly lucky when he slips a diamond on her finger and asks her to be his world for the rest of his life. And this will happen because he wants a woman to be his adventure partner for the rest of his life. He wants a mother for his unborn children, which I more than likely cannot be. He reads this blog and this will probably be the first he knows of that last part. I hope that he understands why I have been the way I have been.
So, we talked every night. I told him about Gabriel Garcia Marquez and tried to explain the magical realism genre to him. Finally, I suggested that he read "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" and he read it! We then talked about it that night and tried to collectively make sense of an odd story.
He said I should watch "The Abyss"
He paid attention to the things I said and I believed that he valued me for everything that I am, even the less conventional parts. Fuck that, especially the less conventional parts. In retrospect, I was already almost mad for him. I tested him. I tried to get him to say something that went against my morals, my values, my ideals and my thoughts about the world. He never did.
The only flaw I could find was that he didn't love music the way that I always have. I mean, that can easily be fixed. I can teach music love. That I can do. Seriously, if that was his worst flaw, then we were golden, right?
I told him about everything. I didn't hide any of the crazy, any of the pain, any of the scars, the past, the drama or the sordid truth. I shared this blog. He read it. He actually tried. I don't even know how to respond to that from someone who is actually an option for me. My heart cracked from the gentle affection. He helped me feel genuinely happy.
So, for our first date, he arrived at my house to pick me up (WOW!), he complimented my togetherness and I patted myself on the back for getting mostly dressed before taking my little to the grandparents for the weekend, and we hopped into his (environmentally friendly) car.
He had done his research. We went downtown for tapas and Malbec. I ate steak tartare for the first time and fucking loved it. We shared that bottle of wine and we talked the same way that we did on the phone. I can say that I felt marginally awkward, but I kind of always do. I guess that's the curse of the introvert. I had two glasses of wine and I was frankly, a little drunk, but that was okay because he deposited me at my doorstep and I kissed him very sweetly good night on the cheek. It was refreshingly the best date in my recent memory.
So, why didn't I feel anything? I don't know. We connected on so many levels, but I just didn't feel anything. Even writing this, I feel like a total cunt. What is wrong with me that the perfect guy ignited nothing and all the wrong guys set me on fire? I do not understand.
I talked to friends and decided to see him again. We continued our conversations and on the phone, I found myself drawn to him and hoping against hope that when we met again, that warmth would continue. He took me for French. I'd never eaten French food. I bought a new dress, it was black and sleeveless and had that cowl neck that looks so good on me. Pencil thin around my rather toned runner's legs. I bought a pair of cap-toed pumps with tiny laces up the back. I looked great. I don't mean to brag. He picked me up again. I kind of love that.
We went to this little place downtown that he loves and I had fish with a caper, lemon and white wine sauce. It was ridiculous. Something they did when they pan-seared that sucker in butter made the skin crispy and light and perfect. Dessert was this apple tart that was so beautiful I didn't want to eat it. But I was afraid he'd get it all if I didn't. We again shared a bottle of Malbec and talked like we never were apart.
He brought me home again and dropped me at my door. He was wearing this blue sweater and when he drew me in for a goodnight kiss, I knew it had to be cashmere. It was so soft, I wanted to keep touching it! Touching him. He was so sweet, even then, as he gently ran a hand up my ribcage. One of us was feeling some major chemistry. In retrospect, I think that because he was so possible, I pushed him away by refusing to allow him in. I put up that damn wall.
I was still quite sad the first night that he didn't call for our talk. I felt lonely without him. I mean, that's what I always wanted, right? And another day went by. He calls me after a few glasses of red even now and we text our gym stats to each other. He's going to beat my run time pretty soon. I called him when I found out that a dear friend, sick with cancer for many months, finally succumbed to the sickness. I felt better talking to him. How can I write this blog and feel happy and sad at the same time?
Between my failures in dating and the loss of that dear, darling friend, something in me changed.
The past week or so, I've been really reflecting on what it is about me that leaves me feeling lonely and sad for as long as I have. I've begun to really start reflecting inward. I'm seeing my own flaws and weaknesses in a way I never have. Each little crack is a chance to be better. I have this amazing friend to help me along the way now. And I can call him and talk when I'm sad, and he's there. I got lucky and he's certainly got a reference in me. Sweet, amazing, brilliant, affectionate, wonderful Bryan, you changed me. Thank you.
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