paradise, part deux

In our early hours together on this adventure, we both brought up names of all the folks we knew near our destination, presumably to have the “out” of other companions or folks we might need to see (in case things didn’t go well). And, truth be told, it seemed like it would be entirely unnecessary for us to spend time with anyone else…at first.

But given the shit storm that had just enveloped my entire life, Lee was kind, attentive, generous and — it must be said — far too “nice” in a far too boring sort of way. I was certain I’d recalled a bit of snark in his personality, yet it was somehow absent in his all-too-accommodating demeanor. So I began pressing for him to arrange a dinner with one of these many people whose names he’d dropped in our first hours together…

And I’m so glad I did. On our second day together, we arranged dinner with one of Lee’s business associates and his family. From the second the two were together, zingers flew back and forth, and I was immediately relieved and delighted to learn the snarky, smart-alecky guy I thought I’d met was, in fact, fully present still. That dinner “broke the ice” for us in ways we might not have been able to do alone together — and, I might add, seemed to enhance our physical connection.

By our third day together, it was clear we’d settled into a routine: get up early and run the 2.5 miles of beach in front of the resort, sit down for coffee and breakfast, then go lounge by the beach. Lee made a habit of tipping well, so staff at the small resort were happy to accommodate any of our modest requests.

We sat at the bar at the end of one of these first days, drinking beer-garitas and watching the sunset, and I remember saying to him: “I have no idea what might happen after this… but, in this moment, I am incredibly grateful.”

Every day was sunny and warm — we had paddle boarded, run, explored, sunbathed, swum in the ocean… Our days were long and lazy, and our evenings were filled with dinner conversation that was intellectually and emotionally stimulating. I felt weirdly as though I was in one of those reality television shows set in paradise, an experience tailored to induce couples like us to fall in love…

(To be continued.)

our first day in paradise

Lee met me at the gate about 15 minutes before our flight from the cold midwest to a warm, beach location. We both seemed rather nonchalant about the crap shoot we were taking, jetting off to spend four nights, five days together with someone we had only just met. After no more than a few innocent kisses and hugs, we would be sharing a room and, undoubtedly, a bed. I assure you I’m no prude, yet I’m rather old fashioned as relationships are concerned, so I wasn’t entirely without trepidation.

We read and dozed on the flight, and I found myself pressing my arm and leg against him for the warmth he radiated. He reached down and took my hand, holding it and caressing my fingers. And I began to see another, more physically affectionate, dimension of this man I barely knew.

I won’t pretend I didn’t feel awkward at times as we arrived, made our way to the resort and situated ourselves in a joint room for the first time. But Lee went out of his way to be a gentleman, offering me the time and space to make myself comfortable.

I insisted on buying dinner that first night, a meal of fish tacos and margaritas. Lee assured me I needn’t and I disagreed, telling him he’d been incredibly generous already, that I was so very appreciative, and that I would contribute, as well.

Later, we made our way back to our cozy room on the beach and readied ourselves for bed. Lee held out his arms. I snuggled into his warm, strong embrace. That’s what struck me most about that first night together, I think; the way he held me so closely and tightly for what seemed like a long, long time…and it felt quite wonderful.

feeling acquiescent

…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?

licking my wounds

Brad’s sudden disappearance hurt both my heart and my ego. Let’s be honest: nothing sounds more hang dog and pathetic than to have been left by someone who, in all honesty, wasn’t quite in my league anyway. I don’t say so to be a pig…I was really ready to test drive “us” in a relationship. But he clearly was not equal to me emotionally, in communication skills or maturity, as demonstrated by his actions. (Jeez, that sounds self-righteous as shit, don’t it?!) And, as much as I liked the way I felt when I was with him, eventually we were going to run out of interesting conversation — he simply wasn’t all that intellectual. I find few characteristics less impressive than a person who doesn’t read.

So I got back on the horse. Right away. And I’ve had two first dates with two different gentlemen, and I have second dates scheduled with each. Both of these guys get yellow flags: one for being divorced just two months; the other for having had a second, momentary marriage and divorce, then moving in with a girlfriend not too long afterward. I’m concerned he moves too fast and maybe isn’t measured in his thinking / planning. The first guy I connect with better, but I’m not interested in being a rebound, and I’m not sure he’s interested in marrying me, putting my kids through college, etc. Yes, that’s getting ahead of myself…but I’m going to be direct about what I ultimately want.

Oh, wait…this is supposed to be fun!

And I intend to have fun. Forever. With the right co-conspirator.

How else have I been dealing? I’ve been going out with friends, continuing to check out new restaurants, bars and haunts. I have petty moments of wanting to send photos of my outings to Brad, who loved my charming neighborhood, tap rooms and chef-driven restaurants…and I fantasize about including a certain gesture in each image. But that would be childish and desperate, and I won’t give him the satisfaction.

A few of my girlfriends have asked me if I’m absolutely, positively sure he wasn’t in some sort of horrific accident. And I confess: every so often I do imagine him coming out of a coma, calling my name from his hospital bed. But I wouldn’t go back, because I can now see his lack of emotional connection for what it is.

Any anyway, the .001% chance of that having happened, well…

My final few heartbreak recovery tactics are these:

Reminding myself that I am whole and healed, and that I don’t need to be exactly perfect or ideal to deserve a relationship that’s ideal for me — just as I don’t expect another person to be perfect.
Knowing that, deep down, my chances of success in a relationship with Brad were slim, and believing that there is a much better something awaiting just around the corner.
Lots and lots of Beyonce and dancing.

a right blessing

Forgive me for the double entendre, but I’ve swiped right on a couple of fellows who have become friends and I’m going to share a bit about one of the more unconventional of these…

We met for lunch one weekday when I was already fairly certain things with Brad were headed toward an actual relationship and, furthermore, I don’t get too excited about these first meetings anyway. We greeted one another, sat down, ordered curry and he immediately let me know he was married.

Which it did not say on his profile.

And quickly followed with how he was merely looking for friendships and had his wife’s permission to use the site, blah, blah, blah… I didn’t think much of it and wasn’t sure I’d see him again after lunch. But he was insistent I bring the children and join his family for a go-karting party one day. So we went and had fun. And then another lunch, followed by brunch with his family, afternoon trail runs, and so on.

He is from what we still refer to as a third-world country, as in there’s still not typically electricity on for 24 hours a day. And, while his family was prominent and lived well, he has made his home in the suburban midwest with a white wife and modest lifestyle. He has said many times that he was “sleepwalking through life” and wanted to meet vibrant people, substantial people, to help him learn how to live a more fulfilling life.

Like many men his age, he is a bonehead — smart and focused in his field, a reasonably good earner, and yet so, so dumb when it comes to happiness and fulfillment. He once texted me with a conundrum: He had yard work to do, but his wife wanted to take the children to the apple orchard. I told him to listen to his wife, give her what she wanted and offer his presence to his children. The yard work could wait. Another time, over a glass of wine, he invited my family to lunch at their home adding, as an aside, that it was the day after his wedding anniversary. I asked him what he was doing to celebrate. He hadn’t thought about it. So I admonished him to make dinner plans, rent a hotel room downtown and send the children to their aunt’s for the night. It was as though he’d had a revelation! The lightbulb over his head went on and he exclaimed, “I would never think to do something like that! And my wife mentioned she’s always wanted to spend a night together in a hotel.” Then I admonished him again for not listening to his wife, as she’d already given him the road map, and told him I would not accept his lunch invitation for that day.

With nothing to lose in this strange new friendship, we are brutally honest with one another. My boundaries are firm and clear. I am full-on, unfiltered me. And he is wildly smitten in the most innocent of ways. He admires me, values me and wants the best for me. He appreciates when I chastise him and tell him to treat his wife and family as his primary priorities. His wife has even thanked me.

The other night, we Tindered together. That is, I resisted swiping out of boredom for a couple of days so that I could show him what’s out there. And it was fun to see how much more choosy he was for me than I am for myself (I figure it will net out in the conversation, if these fellows endeavor to start one.) He swiped left on anyone who wasn’t fit, good-looking and college educated. He swiped left on anyone from a certain college that wasn’t up to his standards. He swiped left on photos of children (as I do –a dating profile is where you state that you’re a parent, but don’t show pictures of kids). He approves of the software company CEO who “super liked” me, and wants him to have a jet, because I deserve it. In other words, I should probably be swiping right more selectively, as he does.

And, in any case, it’s wonderful to have someone who not only thinks I’m worthy of a great and generous love, but who also translates my relating of relationship needs and wants into ways to serve his wife and family. In this way, swiping right on him has been a tremendously rewarding blessing and it seems appropriate to express that gratitude this Thanksgiving.

May you all feel the joy of gratitude this weekend!

left on scene

On our last date, Brad and I toured my neighborhood, stopping for drinks and small plates at a few of the local establishments. As always, we had fun talking and touching. We ended our evening making out on my sofa, and he thanked me for a fun and relaxing evening once he’d arrived safely at home.

The next day, he texted me “Good morning, sexy!” Then later, one of those strangely detached messages about hanging out at Best Buy while waiting for one of his children to be done with practice.

And then nothing.

It’s been two weeks. A girlfriend admonished me to Google him to ensure he wasn’t injured in a car crash.

But I knew.

I told my son he hadn’t been texting me back. He said, “Mommy, he’s busy with work and his kids; I’m sure he’ll text you.”

I told my daughter I’d been ghosted. She said I’d been left on scene. I guess that’s what the kids are saying these days.

It’s easy to see looking back that he wasn’t really emotionally in it. It’s easy to revisit and recall the exchanges we had in which I was looking for a connection, but got detachment in return. Along the way you wonder what it means; and whether something will change and evolve. It never does. You’d think I’d have learned that by now. And it still hurts.

The worst parts are:

Having to put on a sad movie to watch with my son so that it would seem normal that I was crying during our usual Friday night family time.
I miss him.
Dealing with the anger that’s been boiling up. Seriously, there are compassionate ways to end relationships, and this was not one of them.

a blossoming relationship?

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…

back to the beginning?

Several weeks ago, I would have told you that the gentleman I’ve called Brad and I were on our way to a relationship. And now I’m not so sure…

The two of us, as I’ve said, have potential:

Such amazing chemistry.
We have fun together.
We think highly of each other and each other’s characters.
The stars and numbers suggest a certain compatibility, if you give such things credence.

Let’s recap: The couple of weeks after our first meeting, Brad was in full-on seduction mode. Then he learned he would soon be out of work. But we kept communicating and seduction turned to courtship, which was even better! Something has always felt just a little different with Brad…and I guess I want to believe that’s a good sign, rather than him just being a novelty. A little more than two weeks ago, he took me on an all-day outing to celebrate my birthday. We held hands, talked, laughed, kissed and ended the day back at his home, where he gave me a hot oil massage…yes, with a happy ending.

It was our eighth date in as many weeks. And he still has not asked me for exclusivity, to be his girlfriend, introduced me to friends or any such thing. Thus, we have not gone all the way. For the record, I was ready to say yes to exclusivity as of our fourth date.

So this, to me, is weird. I am confused. And if I were to hazard a guess about what’s going on, here are some of the possibilities:

He’s just not that into me. When we are together, I can tell you with certainty that this is not true; he is very into me. But I feel a certain amount “out of sight, out of mind” when we’re apart. He is not pressing for my time, trying to crowd out the others, or asking me to be his girlfriend. And this is exactly what I’d say to any girlfriend who described a similar situation, which is why I listed it first. Which leads me to…
He’s on a different timeline. It’s possible that he just has a much slower pace than I have patience for. In fact, he told me he’s had a year-long relationship since his divorce — and that his girlfriend OF A YEAR never met his children. Don’t get me wrong — I think it’s great that he’s cautious, that he takes his time… but this is getting ridiculous. Our next live, in-person conversation will make clear that this does not work for me. I’m interested in a relationship. He is not the prize; a great relationship is the prize. And he can bow out if that’s not what he wants.
He’s on “pause” until he finds his next gig. I’ve never thought twice about dating this man though he is, technically at this moment, jobless. He’s the sort of fellow with ambition and thrust, and whose phone has been ringing consistently since the first moment he found out his company was closing the division he led. He has said the sorts of things that suggest he believes he needs to be earning at a certain level to be worthy of me. If that’s the concern he has; I’m cool with it. Maybe he just needs to do the new job thing first, before taking a relationship to the next level. Meanwhile, he’s continued to treat me when we go out, even though I’d be just as happy talking a walk or gazing at stars.

Candidly, I’ve been feeling these things for awhile, but I’ve been letting it go while Mercury was retrograde. Now that it’s gone direct, though, it’s time to make my desires known and gain some clarity.

Whatever it is, I’m going to be cool. I’m not going to be devastated if we decide we want different things. I’m going to continue to meet and go out with men. It’s the relationship I want, remember, so I’ll keep meeting people until I meet the guy who wants that with me. Maybe it’s Brad, maybe it’s someone else. But, as I swipe and find an entirely new batch of matches, I kind of feel like I’m back at the beginning…

my last first kiss

It’s just occurred to me that, if I’m really ready to meet my life mate and future husband, one of these fellows I meet and connect with could be my last first kiss. And when I think about it, that’s kind of an awe-inspiring realization… Would I be cool with knowing that, say for example, “Brad” (about whom I wrote in my last post) is the only man I’ll kiss for the rest of my life? I think yeah.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand just how fraught the whole concept of monogamy is. Just look at the Ashley Madison doxing scandal, with the fallen moralists, suicides and wounded spouses — it’s nothing if not a complicated issue. But I want that. I want to believe that it’s not just possible or some sort of life sentence, but that a healthy committed partnership can be fulfilling for decades — including sexually. I don’t imagine it’s easy, as I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than a dozen years. I want it anyway. I want to believe in it anyway.

Furthermore, as much as I love the excitement and newness and exploration of a relationship in early bloom, you’ll recall I’ve written that I loved plain old perfunctory vanilla missionary married sex. I loved the efficiency as much as the intimacy, and it didn’t bother me if it was over in ten minutes, because I also love me some sleep!

That said, if there is a chance that one of the fellows I’ve already met is my last first…well, there’s only one with whom I’ve had epic make-out sessions. I mean practically high school-ish in nature…which, for me, meant lots and lots of kissing and touching with firm boundaries about where his hands or mouth were allowed. Arousal is a wonderful part of it, rather than an urgent imperative that must be immediately satisfied. It’s funny how lovely and freeing it is to have firm boundaries and, for perhaps the first time in my life, not let my libido get ahead of me.

In fact, last evening Brad took me on a picnic in a park near a creek, where we listened to the water rush over the rocks, serenaded by crickets and frogs. We sat on a blanket and snacked on veggies, crackers and cheese while sipping wine and talking. We kissed and it was as though time stood still. We’ve relaxed into these moments of discovery and, damn!, I’m having fun!

Pretty sure he is, too.

swiping left and right

I’ve been at this swiping thing for three or four weeks now, so let’s suss out a few more lessons / observations on seeking life-long love on Tinder…

First, here’s my approach — and don’t hesitate to tell me if you think I’m wrong on this one: Swiping is my “first move.” In other words, if I’ve swiped right, that’s my move. I’m probably not going to send the first message, too. Why? Because I want the guy who likes what he sees and reads to reach out and make his move. And, yes, I’m definitely discerning the content of the message. A simple “hi” doesn’t score many points.

Here’s where things go from there:

Some guys just keep the conversation going on too long before making a move. I don’t want a pen pal; I just want enough back and forth to know we have common interests and the guy can carry on an intelligent conversation. Then ask me out already! Isn’t the entire idea to meet?
I’m cutting guys loose quickly. There are a couple I’ve simply un-matched on the app because I didn’t feel like conversing any longer. Some I’ve simply said, “I don’t feel our communication styles are meshing.” And one guy who was messaging and texting me, then somehow found me on Facebook and sent a friend request (denied! stalkerish!), and then got really sarcastic bordering on belligerent, so I’ve blocked him from contacting me on my phone as well.
I’ve seen one guy — I’ll call him Brad — three times. Wasn’t exactly excited about our first meeting…until we were laughing together at the end and he kissed me. A little forward, I’ll admit, but I like a bold man. And as skeptical as I’ve been about certain things, he has proven himself intelligent, capable, funny, and so much more. He doesn’t seem to have been broken by his divorce; he has a rich, full life. Like Mr. Meltsmyheart, he constantly surprises me in the depth and breadth of our conversations and his pursuits. And he has not yet said or done a single thing that raises a red flag for me, aside from physically having his foot firmly on the accelerator — and I can put the brakes on that. From the get go, he was in it to win it! We have the ever-elusive chemistry in spades. When I’m with him, I feel really ready for a relationship in a way that’s difficult to articulate and something I don’t recall feeling for a long time…”ease,” I guess. We can be quiet or we can talk. We’re still getting to know each other, sure, but it’s comfortable and there’s no friction. And then he was told he’d be out of a job at the end of the month — surprise! — and he’s not in hot pursuit mode anymore. I like him enough to be a little scared about what the timing of this means… And yet he has great perspective about it and invited me to go skydiving with him to celebrate a good three-year run at that gig. Good thing I’m dating other guys to keep from investing too much before its time and to keep my wits about me!
The other guy I’ve seen three times — call him Mark — is a good conversationalist with good taste. We have more than a little bit in common and I enjoy his company. And when he kissed me goodnight on our last date, I couldn’t help but wish he were Brad. Uh-oh. The chemistry is just not the same. And, in comparison (and I know comparisons are so not fair!), he does seem like his divorce broke him and he’s still picking up the pieces. I want a man fully realized — a homeowner with some semblance of his life in tact, not a guy still living in a shabby apartment. I don’t feel broken and, as I’ve said so many times, I’m only looking for an equal.
The guys I think I’m going to like are often not the ones I like the most and, based on text messages before or after first or second dates, the front runner is always changing. I wanted to like Chet, the successful sales guy with a home in an appealing suburb, more than I do. And I haven’t even met Adam, but his text messages make me think I’ll really like him.

In other words, I’m still feeling it all out…trying to be aware of how I’m feeling in the moment when I spend time with someone, take it all one day at a time, dig into the nominal drama I’m creating in my head and deal with it. So far, it’s mostly happy hunting.