I wondered what would happen to us, now that we were back home and back to real life. We arranged a date that first weekend after we were back.

Meanwhile, my girlfriends reached out, demanding details. Three of us decided to meet for a cocktail to celebrate the New Year and one of the girls’ birthdays at a local bar. Lee agreed to meet us at the bar and submit himself to their interrogation before we ventured out on our date. And my girlfriends were ecstatic to observe someone who was clearly into me and was willing to play along with ever-evolving plans.

Lee and I saw each other a couple of times a week under “normal” circumstances. We continued to grow closer and enjoy each other’s company. Sooner than later, we had talked about exclusivity.

I was so taken with the ease and naturalness of our time together. Lee was expressive in word and deed — and touch. For the first time in a long time (maybe ever), I didn’t have to think about (analyze, perhaps?) anything… By that, I mean, I would easily invite Lee with me anywhere or to meet anyone without a second thought. [A few months ago, I had more casually been dating a blue collar guy (Brad) who, I recall thinking, I would have difficulty explaining to some girlfriends…they would have wondered what I saw in him.]

It goes without saying that he understood my full-time, single-parent status. Out of necessity, we were soon talking about his meeting the children. Not in any formal sort of way, of course, but just coming over to hang out on the sofa after a dinner out, for example…Netflix and chill without the expectation of a happy ending.

And, considering the treatment my two had given the only other boyfriend they’ve met in six years, they seemed amenable to Lee. Perhaps this connection had some potential…

So, here we were, finding greater comfort and ease with each other in paradise than either of us had bargained for…

The afternoon of our third day, we ventured out for massages in a nearby village. I was delighted to learn that Lee had arranged for 90 minutes for each of us (an hour is just such a tease when it comes to relaxation!). It was just another of the many ways in which we’d shared such a perspective on life.

After the intensely relaxing treatment, we ambled down the street to an oyster bar. I took a call from home to learn that one of my children was seeing a doctor and needed to be treated. I think Lee found the protective “Mama Bear” in me appealing. He had even told me how much he enjoyed hearing me talk about my children — I had described them so vividly, he explained, that he felt he already knew them.

We made our way back to the resort, walked over to the bar for a drink and decided to walk down the beach to dinner. After scaling a fence or two, we found a spot, ordered a bottle of champagne and marveled at how lucky we’d been to find ourselves there, together, enjoying each other’s company so thoroughly.

The champagne had a little-blue-pill-like effect on Lee. We’d walked barefoot back along the beach, our arms around each other, potentially stumbling just a little, and then enjoyed an extended and athletic session before finally collapsing into slumber in each others’ arms.

We were scheduled to fly out in the morning, so we ran, as usual, grabbed breakfast and went back to our room to pack. We’d allotted 30 minutes for the beach before showering, checking out and heading to the airport. It was comical how, as we sat in our beach chairs, we both raised our watches into view at the haptic notification. Our flight was delayed. Shortly after, another tap on the wrist alerted us that our flight had been delayed again. We would now miss our connection and likely not make it home that night. Within five minutes, Lee had booked us on flights back the following day, extended our stay by a night and I’d arranged for another night of care for my children.

That day, I barely moved from my beach chair. I went to the restroom, cooled myself in the ocean, sunned myself and read. The well-tipped staff were so thrilled their best tippers were staying, they brought a bucket full of iced water. Lee fetched everything else, from sunscreen to lunch and margaritas. I reveled in feeling so pampered! We stayed in those beach chairs until the sun had set completely, then found a modern diner in the center of town for dinner.

Later that night, I curled into Lee’s arms and, just as we were dozing off, he uttered “I love you.”

I’m sure I jolted awake at the shock, but tried to suppress any physical or other response. I understood it instantly for what it was:  We had enjoyed four perfect days together, not only enjoying each others’ company and conversation, but also feeling increasingly connected to one another — and, while waaaay too soon, it was the most perfectly natural thing to say in the moment.

I pretended to sleep; I didn’t want to ruin the feeling with a response…even if it was misplaced.

Another moment passed… Lee said, “I didn’t mean that.”

I continued to pretend to be asleep.

“Say something!” he said, desperation in his voice.

“Mmm sleeping,” I mumbled and relaxed into his arms even more deeply, sighing and, eventually, falling to sleep for real.

It was, however premature, the perfect end to our perfect days together in paradise. And I couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive about what our return to reality might bring…

 

 

…and then, on a Sunday evening, I learned that my ex had passed away.

Suddenly it seemed like a very poor time to be starting a relationship. Both of these fellows conveyed their condolences, I asked for space and I deleted my online profile.

I had already agreed to go to an ugly holiday sweater party at the end of the week with the second, the more interesting of these guys. We had met just three times; once the evening before the devastating news. Now, by the end of the week, I was ready to get out of the house and put on a brave face…with…let’s call him Lee.

Again Lee fetched me via Uber, and we arrived at his friends’ dinner party at the same moment. I had insisted he call me ahead of time to fill me in on the details. Some of these folks had been from his old neighborhood, so I needed to know if I was walking into an annual party at which he had last been seen with his soon-to-be-ex-wife. He had, but it was a mixed crowd and everyone was lovely to me.

Having met in another city, it seemed only natural that we’d already been talking about jetting off for a long weekend away later in the winter. After the party, however, Lee began suggesting we make it the week between Christmas and New Year’s. I wasn’t certain I was ready for that — we’d only met four times, after all — and I wasn’t certain I could get away.

“I need a break; I know you need a break. Let me do this,” he said, explaining that he had airline credits and hotel points and that we could make it work for very little invested. My resistance had been worn down by the emotional turmoil of the past week. “Okay,” I said.

It wasn’t easy to arrange the kidgistics, but the promise of sunshine, warmth and leisure was enough for me to make it work. Further, some of the children’s relatives were coming to town, so they would have extra emotional support — and it might not hurt, I reasoned, for me to not be around then.

Before I knew it, our flight itinerary was in my email…

So here I was, preparing to spend four nights in paradise with a man I barely knew. We enjoyed conversation with each other, surely we would have fun, and we’d relax in the warmth and sun. How bad (or good, I suppose) could it possibly be?

 

Since I last left you, Brad and I went on a half a dozen more dates — from a fun sushi dinner to dinner at his place to a microbrewery tour and sampling. Gosh, we’ve had fun! We’re flirty and cute together — and I love how boyish-looking he is!

And all the while, I continued to wonder if this was going anywhere. Between our parenting schedules, we managed to see each other every ten days to two weeks — which was simply not enough for me to feel a growing emotional closeness. He greeted me with such affection that, even if I was feeling a little grumpy about the interval between our dates or the quality of our communication between times, any tension simply dissipated on contact.

Finally, after our evening the brewery, I said to him:  “You know one of the things that I find so attractive about you is that you’re so ‘F*CK YEAH!’ about life…so if I’m anything less than a ‘F*CK YEAH!’ to you, you’ve got to cut me loose.”

Without hesitation, he exclaimed, “F*CK YES!”

And we kissed (some more). And talked about whether we were ready to be in a relationship…YES! And we talked about meeting him meeting my children and our consummating the relationship (remember my rule:  intercourse only after exclusivity) and other things to come. And even if we hadn’t yet negotiated all of the details, I tossed and turned for hours that night with the giddiness of a schoolgirl so so happy that I could now call Brad my “boyfriend.”

As a few days went by, it became clear that the momentum had not, in fact, changed. Nor had our communication:  while mine might be sweet and flirty, his was tactical / functional — the sort of communication you might get from a husband…or an even more disinterested party, e.g.:

“I’m in training today. How’s your morning?”

And so I looked forward to our next date, during which I would share this communication challenge / opportunity as something that might be a risk for us in a relationship…