27 and three quarters.
Never been kissed.
For most of my, well, dating life, I have held fairly firm to the idea that I didn’t want to kiss until I got married. I’ve had several reasons for it, and I think I may have included them in this blog, but I can’t rightly remember where. If possible, I will try to link to it for you.
There have been times when I haven’t been very strong in this conviction. At those times, I was either with a guy who wasn’t interested (so…we weren’t really dating) or there wasn’t a guy at all. The times when there was a guy who was interested, I found the fortitude to keep with my conviction.
Now, I’m in a serious relationship with Mr. Wisely. We’ve met each other’s immediate family (apart from my sisters who are crazily busy, so it’s not all my fault) and have had several dates together. We recently had an almost week-long event at my place of worship and he came to each evening activity and some of the day-time events with me. I have visited his place of worship twice now and, in my book, that’s a big deal. My spiritual family is as important to me as my birth family.
Pretty much within the first month of dating, I began battling through whether the conviction to wait and kiss was God’s command for my life or just my own security, defense, or ideal. Ideals can be a good thing, but they can also be a bad thing – unrealistic and something to hide behind. I truly believe that my not wanting to kiss anyone until I marry has been a good thing and a way that God has protected me from certain relationships in the past that weren’t as edifying.
I asked Mr. Wisely to help me in prayer and discussing together what we thought about it. My thought was that I want to wait as long as possible, maybe actually have a legit deadline so that I could have a timeline to work through before deciding what I wanted to do. Mr. Wisely, however, was ever gracious and told me he would not pressure me by forcing a timeline on me. He didn’t want to pressure me.
I was kind of upset by this. I like things to go in boxes – nice, neat little packages that can be handled. If I have parameters to work in, then I feel better. And so, I was kind of annoyed with him that he wouldn’t give me a deadline or ultimatum to work around. And then it hit me. The day after he and I had talked about it, the verse from 1 Corinthians came to my mind: Love is patient. Love is kind.
He was being the epitome of that verse for me. Loving me more than his physical desire or even my mental comforts. I began to think about other ways that he has shown me this verse through his actions. And my heart began to soften. I prayed a bit more and last week, I sent him a text (because I was sure if I told him in person, he’d just grab me and kiss me right there) that I was ready to let him decide when we should have our first kiss. He was thrilled!
He waited a full week before asking me, one late night at my house before he went home, if he could kiss me. I told him that I had said he could. And so he leaned in.
I’m pretty sure I was cringing. I had been trying not to worry about it, after handing the reins over to him, but that’s not something you can easily throw off. I was cringing because I was so dang nervous.
I had three thoughts during the kiss:
1. This is so weird.
2. Oh, maybe I should be moving my lips too, and
3. I am so glad I’m not doing this in front of hundreds of people.
And I am glad I didn’t wait…and I’m glad that I did. I couldn’t have picked a better guy to have my first kiss with. If Mr. Wisely and I do not go any further than this phase in our relationship, I won’t have any regrets about it. But if we keep going on, then, my husband will be my first and only kiss. I’m so glad that I might still have THAT forever.
It was so awkward…but there’s always time for practice. ;-)
Maybe I’ve just been ready for a relationship. I’m tired of waiting and of “dating” guys just to find out they’re not what I’m wanting or needing. So, I’m not altogether surprised, but definitely amazed, at how quickly Mr. Wisley and I went from acquaintances to dating to “in a relationship.” Yep, it’s even on Facebook now, much to the joy of our friends and family. It took about two months, from the time we started chatting again to last Friday when we decided that we wanted to take on the label “boyfriend” and “girlfriend.” It’s been ages since I’ve worn that label and it’s a little itchy, pulls in a couple places, much like getting a pair of new shoes.
But I’m enjoying the way it makes me look. Apparently, I have a full grin plastered to my face most of the time. He seems to be doing well with it too. I asked him what changed between when we met to now since he was pretty insistent that he was going to go into this slowly, still holding on to feelings for his ex and not wanting to lead me on. He said that before, he was still thinking about her a lot. But now he doesn’t think about her at all. And he wasn’t sure if we could work out, but now he thinks we can. That last bit, he said while looking deep into my eyes and I melted a bit.
I would like to know more, but I don’t want to push him to say too much before he’s ready. Right now, we are just really enjoying each others’ company. Now we need to figure out the healthy balance of seeing each other too much and too little. I have discovered that physical touch is much more of a big deal to me than I originally thought. I’m the one who reaches out and takes his hand. I’m the one who bumps into him and puts my arm in his. I was the one who snuggled up next to him while watching a movie. It’s not that he’s against it – I think he just doesn’t know what is allowed yet and maybe, it’s just not his inclination if we’re out in public.
Tonight, I’m going up to his place to watch a movie and hopefully not getting frozen in. And tomorrow night, we and my two best friend couples (so four people) are going to have a game night – a great chance for them to get to know him and him to get to know them. I am really hopeful that they all like each other. He’s met one couple, but we haven’t had a chance to really spend much time together. I believe that we’ll go see his parents on Sunday after church and then we’re planning to have lunch with my dad and grandpa on Monday.
Think it’s going a bit fast? I would love some input.
Mr. Wisley was planning to join me and my grandpa for a quick, informal dinner Thursday at a local Chinese restaurant (no cats, don’t worry) and then we were going to head out to a movie. And then I woke up Wednesday morning with a sore throat and some congestion. Went to work and then came back home around noon. The plan was to crash for several hours and be done with whatever sickness was going through me. When I walked through the door, though, my skin told me that something was very wrong in the house. It was 10 degrees cooler than what our thermostat was set for. Our heater had gone out. I phoned our landlord and explained the situation and was told that he would be right over.
So, with tidings such as that, I threw an extra sweater over me, wrapped a scarf around my neck, set a heating pad behind my back, grabbed a cup of hot tea and covered myself with two thick blankets. I was cozy. And he didn’t come, he didn’t come, and he didn’t come…and my eyes were drooping (one can only play so much Lego Batman before getting bored) and then I finally got a call that he would be sending someone else who would call before coming…who didn’t call and didn’t call and then suddenly showed up on our doorstep at 4pm. All that precious nap-time, wasted.
By this time, I had figured out that I had the flu, but we had also made another discovery. Mr. Wisley and I were casually texting and discussing my sickness, his work schedule, and various other things. He made some teasing remark and I felt like it was appropriate to threaten taking away my “babe” comment from earlier in the day. He was immediately all ears…er, fingers…saying that I misunderstood his comment (which I did, to be honest) and could he still be “babe?” Intriguing!
I asked if he wanted to be and that I thought maybe I should reserve such a name for my boyfriend only. If he wanted to take on that name, then we could put “babe” back on the table. It’s much more bold than I would ordinarily be, and this is way early for my February 1st deadline, but I thought, oh why not? He responded with “he would gladly take both names and wear them proudly.”
This guy…I’m just really enjoying this relationship so far. He followed that he’d rather talk about it in person, to which both of us vehemently began praying that I would be well enough for Thursday night’s date. But, I was not. And so we’re going to have to wait until who knows when to meet up, and discuss the state of our relationship. In the meantime, I am weak and sickly and he’s adoring and compassionate, and we’re both swooning for each other in the throes of puppy love.
Over the last week or so, Mr. Wisley has taken to calling me names. Not the bad kind, the great endearing we’re-moving-forward-in-this-relationship names. They make me giggle every time he uses one. He seems to be trying different ones out before settling on a standard to call me.
As mentioned in the previous post, it started out small and simple. He’d call me Miss [insert last name]. He’s said “Yes, ma’am,” lady, etc. The non-emotional labels. And then I threw out a “m’dear.” I use this pretty generally, and universally. I put it in texts and Facebook comments to guys and gals alike. But it’s also pretty handy as a temperature gauge for a new relationship. He didn’t cringe at it. In fact, he countered with “sweetie,” which can also be semi-ambiguous. “Sweet dreams, sweetie.” “Have a good day, sweetie.”
And then came a “darlin’,” and I followed with a “cutie.” He’s called me Sunshine in the morning. I like that one. The other night he said “my lovely,” and I was sure that we had crossed a line there. Not in a bad way, just made it passed an indicator in the relationship. He laughed it off and said that I call him “m’dear” all the time, which is just about the same thing. He had a point, so I set it aside into the Raise-Your-Eyebrow-and-Think-About Pile.
This morning, upon waking up, he texted a “Good morning Sweet Pea!” At this, I just called him on it. I’ve been pretty good at sticking to my “m’dear” and keeping labels as ambiguous as our relationship is right now. I asked if he is trying out names for me and he joked that he might be.
His work schedule is kind of crazy and his next evening free will be this Thursday and then he’ll be kind of inaccessible for a week. I’m treating my grandpa to dinner that afternoon, so I offered for him to come join us (my grandpa won’t mind at all – the more the merrier) and then go catch a movie afterwards, if he thought he’d be interested in that. He agreed and said he was looking forward to it. I’ve never had dinner with a grandparent and a guy, so this guy is getting all kinds of Firsts with me. I sure must like him. (Aside, I showed my grandpa a picture of Mr. Wisley at Christmas and he commented that he looked like himself when he was our age. Quite interesting!)
I told him to get some sleep, since he had been working all night, and called him “Babe.” He jumped on that right away, calling me Sweet Tart. I communicated that I’m not really a fan of that one. I think I’m going to take “Babe” back from him until he’s earned it more…like by actually saying we’re together.
I have never had a date on New Year’s Eve. Yes, this 27-year-old woman has never, in all her life, had a legit date for New Year’s Eve, and I guess you can count this year as a toss-up. I’ll let you decide. Leave a comment.
Mr. Wisley and I had decided to get together on Saturday, but I didn’t remember that it was New Year’s Eve. We were talking about being excited to see each other on Saturday, and he reminded me that he would have to duck out early for the night to get to work. Darn plant for not closing on New Year’s. We started deciding what we should do for the time we would have together. My thought was a nice evening, just the two of us, going out to eat, or to see a movie. Something where we could work on our cuddling skills – not yet tested out. He told me that his friends from church were having a party and that he “should bring me.” I was more than willing to meet his friends and see what they were like in person. He then said that his brother would probably join us for the whole time as well. Not to worry, he’s his best friend, so that’s a big deal as well. I said I’d be more than happy for him to join us. And I honestly was.
We decided that I would drive up to him. He told me that he was concerned about me driving all that way by myself, on such a night, and it warmed the cockles of my heart to hear his concern for me. I assured him that I would be fine, especially since I would be heading home much earlier than when all the crazy drunk people would be out. And so, I got myself all snazzed up in a pair of jeans. My eyes looked killer, I’m just saying. I drove up and he met me at the door. No hug greeting – I don’t think I should be the one to initiate that…and he doesn’t seem compelled, especially with his brother in the room. I sat with his brother for a bit and chatted while Mr. Wisley finished getting ready. I had heard a lot about said brother and had been looking forward to meeting him, both to make a new friend with a fun person and to get the “family” stamp of approval.
We went to Chick-fil-a for dinner, had a sweet little meal together. Drove to Best Buy and walked around, looking at fun gadgets. I think my official approval was received when I said that I enjoyed BBC’s Top Gear. Mr. Wisley and his brothers are gearheads and have been totally impressed that I can hold my own in a discussion about cars, even though, I really have a minimal understanding of things mechanical. We continued on to the party.
Which ended up a flop. It turns out the people at his church smoke and drink – a fair amount. We sat in the living room, which was sparse because the renter was moving out soon, while the rest of the people moved through the apartment from the back porch to smoke and the bathroom to finish getting prettied up. And so, most of the time was spent the three of us, sitting there, talking with each other, having a great time despite the “party” and very loud rap music. Mr. Wisley apologized to me for the lack of activity and for their behavior, which I assured him wasn’t bothering me at all. I don’t like smoking. My step-father was a smoker, and I think it’s a disgusting habit. But these are his friends, and I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at them. He can’t stand smoking either, and neither can his brother, which I was glad of. But Mr. Wisley was probably thinking, as I was, that we could have sat and chatted as comfortably at his place as at this party. But they were nice people. I enjoyed chatting with them and I think they liked me.
We had to leave right as they began to really get into their party mode, a full two hours after we arrived. Walking out to the car, Mr. Wisley and I were joking about something or other, bumped into each other and I took the opportunity to slip my arm under his. With just 5 steps before reaching the car, I was elated, and completely unsure of what he thought about it. We got back to his place, his brother headed home and Mr. Wisley and I chatted out by my car before I took off and he had to get ready for work. We gave each other a hug goodbye and that was that.
I asked him later that night if he had been ok with me holding his arm and he assured me that he was totally comfortable with it. He decided that, since he would be so completely tired in the morning and miss his church service, that he would come to my evening study with my friends. We went out to dinner after that and when walking to and from the restaurant, he tucked out his elbow for me to grab on it. I just love walking with a guy like that. He took me back to my place and we sat and chatted for an hour or so before he had to leave back to his place for work.
I don’t know when we’ll get to see each other again. My evenings fill up now that the winter break is over. He will have a couple of days off before going into 2nd shifts, which means that his time is pretty shot for a week. I know I can’t wait. He’s taken to calling me sweetie, darlin’, and last night, “my lovely.” It makes my heart melt, but I definitely called him out on that last one. “Your lovely?!” I said. And he joked that I call him “m’dear” quite frequently and so it was much the same.
I can’t peg this guy.
I’m in that funny position where you aren’t completely sure that what you’re doing is dating or not. It looks like a date. Smells like a date. Sounds like a date. Pays like a date. What’s a girl to do?
My mother gets free tickets to a huge Christmas light display each year and so I told Mr. Wisley about it and he was all game. Actually, he had said that he had never been, which shocked me and so I told him that he didn’t have a choice, he was going, and I was taking him. But that was on a Monday night, and this was Friday. And so I mentioned how our young adults group at church was having a Christmas party that Sunday and would he like to come? He said he would and I nervous and jittery inside. I’ve said it before – my church is my holy place, my family, an intimate part of my life. I kind of thought he’d be busy with something at his own church, but he wasn’t and fully intended to accept my invitation. Plus, we were already planning to go out the next night. Two nights in a row with the same guy?! Unheard of in my book!
So, I told my friends and they were all excited. Turns out I was going to help lead music that night – not to add any OTHER pressure to the evening. I was all afluster. And the day came, and it was a blast. I was nervous most of the time, but I introduced him to my people, he chatted freely with them. We sat next to each other during the service, when I sat back down after singing he leaned over and whispered “That was awesome!” And I melted a little bit. Since neither of us had anything going on that night, I asked if he wanted to drive around and look at Christmas lights. So we spent an hour and a half driving around and checking out just about all the Christmas lights my town had to offer. We chatted about different parts of houses we liked, different things about Christmas with our families and just a bunch of things. It was such a sweet time.
So, we had one Seems-Like-A-Date, then another one and this now makes #3 Seems-Like-A-Date.
The next night, he came to my house and met my mother – another yikes moment for me. I had come home from work and Mom asked if I thought it’d be awkward for him to meet her in her nightgown. *blank stare* She wears a thick gown all the time around the house. I’m used to it, so I don’t always catch how awkward it is. I told her that it probably would be. She marches upstairs to change complaining about how I don’t think about her at all and only think about this hunk of a guy. I told her she shouldn’t have asked me then if she didn’t want my answer. Apparently this asking a question expecting a different answer runs in my family. When Mr. Wisley and I got to the restaurant, I told him about the fiasco and he just said, “Uh, thank you…that would’ve been awkward.” My brother-in-law, who has been in the family for almost 15 years now, still gets weirded out when she is in her gown and having them over. Her mother does it, but her mother’s also 87.
We had Japanese food and decided that, while I love it and directed him to the least shocking dishes they had, he is not a fan. I’m a bit bummed by that, but it’s not a huge deal. Then we headed downtown to the light display! It’s located in the zoo and you can see most of the animals inside their buildings when you walk around. It was rainy though and that wasn’t nearly as much fun. He let me “check in” there and tag him in the check-in too on Facebook…so people officially knew that we were together that night. We got a couple pics together too, in front of Swan Lake, and he said for me to load them on Facebook and tag him. This kind of behavior is totally foreign to me. So I did! My boss “liked” the photo…of all people. Yes, I’m friends with my boss on Facebook. Not my best judgment call.
And, so he bought dinner, I took care of the light display. We bought matching mugs in the gift store. Seems-Like-A-Date #4.
We had to wait a week to get back together since Christmas was now in play. He had two days of festivities with his family. My family got together on Christmas Eve and then it was Mom and I in our house on Christmas Day. It was nice though, and he and I texted each other throughout the day to keep each other updated on our respective church services, gift-givings and celebratory activities. And then, yesterday, I was to drive up to his place and we were going to watch a movie together – at his place – alone – at his home – where he lives and sleeps – by myself. I’m going to tell you something quite shocking. I’m 27.5 years old and I have never been to a man’s house by myself. It was quite intimidating for me, but I was determined to get over it and not let my nerves dictate how I enjoyed myself. I arrived right about lunch time and we grabbed some grub from the Way of the Subs and then snuggled into the couch for some movie watching. My choice – a classic Christmas musical which I have been watching since my childhood. His choice, which followed almost immediately after my movie was over – Cars. And we both had a great time. And we didn’t cuddle, he didn’t try anything with me, he didn’t even hold my hand. We just sat very close with our arms by each other for the duration of the movies and then, chatted a bit and I was on my way. No hug goodbye. No determined physical contact.
Within a month, I’ve gone on more dates than I have in the last 3 years. Well, they sure seem like dates, except for one thing – we’re not together. I’m not very good at hanging out with a guy just by ourselves and not being in a relationship. I would really like some clarification soon. But I made the deadline within myself – February 1st. Can I wait that long? His brother called while we were watching movie #2 and all Mr. Wisley had to say was, “I’m watching a movie with Intrepidity.” No further explanation required. The cousins of his who I know had been over at his parents house on Christmas Day and he texted me “Hello’s” from them. He invited me to an event at his church this next weekend, which I had to decline because of a Christmas party with the other side of my family. But then we made plans to do something the following day, New Year’s Eve. I’ve never had plans with a guy on New Year’s Eve! Granted, he has to be at work before midnight, but it’s still pretty significant, right? Am I the only one totally confused?
If not, I think he might be the other one.
Here comes Seems-Like-A-Date #6.
You seldom get a chance to do something over in life. I’d venture to say that you never get a “re-do,” but in this case, I have had the rare opportunity for just that: a second “first” date with a guy five years later. The circumstances were a little odd though – reconnecting through Facebook, nearly a week after my grandmother had passed away and the day of her funeral. I don’t think it was inconsiderate to make such a plan on the day of her funeral. She was always asking me if I had met anyone and I’m sure she’d have been excited to know that I was meeting up with a guy who was so promising.
We met up at an almost-mid-point city and went to the artsy First Friday event. We were both fairly surprised at how much was going on since this almost-mid-point city has a reputation for being on its last leg – it’s the dog you think is about to die each time it coughs. But there was a great turn out and the casual atmosphere and so many things to talk about made for a nice “first” date.
And then we spent the next week texting each other. That night, we actually decided that we should meet up again and soon. Within a week, he came and picked me up at my office and we drove down into the big city on the river, saw an Omnimax movie about the historic passenger train through the Canadian Rocky Mountains (absolutely beautiful!) and then downtown to grab some grub. In the center of town, there’s an ice skating rink set up and horse-drawn carriages going by and a beautiful Christmas tree with masses of lights hanging from the branches. I love it. And then we headed back home. An early night, I wasn’t sure if we should sit in his car and chat, or if he needed to get back home, or what was expected. (I don’t get 2nd dates so very often)
We had talked about him having broken up with a girl recently (which I found out to be June) and him still being a bit hurt by it. He’s playing it safe. Enjoying getting out and spending time with someone other than her and his family, but not sure yet if he’s ready. I’ve been in this position before, of sorts, with Mr. Rough, if you remember. In that case, I was daft to keep waiting for him. In this case, I think it’s reasonable to let him have some time to decide. We only really know what we put on Facebook about each other, and while we tend to be pretty honest people, we do leave a lot off our walls. After talking about the circumstance of the break-up a little more, I decided that I would give him until the first of February to make a decision. If he doesn’t by then, it will be my time to ask him what he’s thinking. I think that putting two months into a relationship with a guy is enough time for both of us to decide if it’s what we want, but I don’t want to be the one to make that declaration. I’ve been clear with him that I like him and that I’m waiting on his lead – boy, is that hard!
When we got back to my office, I noticed that a light had been left on. I said goodbye to him, ran inside and shut it off. When I came back out, he was still waiting there. I knocked on his window and told him he was a good guy and thanks for waiting. You don’t find guys like that very often – at least ones who are still single. What in the world was that girl thinking in giving him up? Perhaps what I was thinking 5 years ago?
I remember thinking that it was a dream, and so I was fully expecting things to be strange – not at all like Inception where everything begins to fall apart once you realize you’re dreaming, but the standard oddness.
It was my wedding day.
I was in a way-too-white-it-was-almost-blue dress that strongly resembled the dress I wore to my junior Prom. In my dream, I knew it was happening in extreme short notice. Everything was disorganized. I couldn’t remember what had happened at the rehearsal and then I remembered that we didn’t have a rehearsal. That was a strange part considering that it seemed my dad was officiating it and he would have insisted on a rehearsal. He would be way too emotional to handle it flying by the seat of his pants.
Not only that, apparently there was no coordinator. I was running around in my wedding dress through the sanctuary putting things down in the pews, annoyed that my mom didn’t save me a seat. Somebody had managed to put my shoes in the car that brought us to the church, so that was a good thing. But they were not the shoes I would have chosen at all – really tall high heels that covered most of my feet. Yuck. I also had a long white flowing shawl over my dress, that I’m sure I was planning to wear down the aisle. I had to take a restroom break.
The one redeeming factor was my hair. I really enjoy my hair. I have a lot of it. It’s stick straight and won’t let me put any kind of body into it. But I like it that way for the most part. When I got to the restroom and looks in the mirror, my hair seemed to have tripled on itself. It was fuller than I have ever seen it. And it was filled with braids of different sizes scattered throughout my hair. I don’t know how to describe it – it probably would look awful if I tried to do it myself with the amount of hair I actually have, but it looked so pretty. I’ve always thought it would be great to have my hair down and long for my wedding.
I came out of the restroom and my dad was waiting for me. I asked him if I was supposed to sing for the service and he said yes. I told him that it was my day and I didn’t want to do it. So he shrugged and said it would be ok. He was much less affectionate than he would have been on even normal occasions and I found that I didn’t mind it at all. At this point, I had only one goal, to get to that altar.
We walked up to the end of the aisle where my step-mom was waiting for me. Dad ran up to say something in the front of the sanctuary. My step-mother began saying that she wanted to show some kind of connection to me, that maybe she could walk up with me and my dad. I told her that she could just walk behind us and then I could turn back and smile at her. And then I remembered that I’ve been concerned about how to recognize Mom and how sad/angry she would be if I let my step-mom do something special and not her. And I was just coming on to a solution (one I would really like to have in real life for when the time comes) when my alarm clock jarred me to consciousness.
The most disappointing part of the whole dream was that I never saw nor was concerned with who the groom was. I remember seeing a groomsman and knowing exactly who he was, but I couldn’t tell you now for anything. I was talking with a girl from my church at one point, but I can’t remember which one. I opened an envelope that had about 5 checks in it from different people who knew my grandmother and were wishing me congratulations. But I never caught a glimpse of the groom.
And it’s probably for the best. I’ve dreamt of guys before and it’s made things awkward at times. So I’m going to spend the day chewing on that question, because I can’t help it. Was the groom going to be Mr. Wisley? Was it someone else? Someone I know? Someone I don’t? That I would know one of the groomsmen would suggest that I would also know the groom, but who knows! It could be someone totally new. I’m just glad to know that the dream of a wedding hasn’t left my heart yet. Whether it comes or not, I prefer to hold on to that hope as long as I can.
It is amazing how much our lives are affected by Facebook. Just a few weeks after Mr. Rockies and I stopped talking (sadly, even though the thought was we could remain friends), I began to receive more comments on my Facebook posts from a certain gentleman I hadn’t really heard from in years. I began commenting back and then we began FB chatting and one thing led to another and we’re engaged! Hah, just kidding!!
We’ll call him Mr. Wisley, after the gentleman caller of Jane Austen from the movie Becoming Jane, because he seems to have been a shy flower taking time to bloom. I know, corny…I’ll abstain from further corny comments, if at all possible.
I’ve been at my place of worship for just about 15 years now. As such, I’ve become very close to the people there. B is not really one of those people, but as unmarried women were dwindling in our circle by the time of her engagement, it’s no surprise that she asked me and my best friend to be bridesmaids. I was very surprised at the time, but as I further reflected on it, it seems logical and logic is what rules my brain and heart, so that’s that. So as we spent time together and she was all afluster with the joy of romantic bliss, she offered to set me up with a long-time family friend, Mr. Wisley.
I have never really been one to turn down a blind date, so I said “yes.” He came and picked me up at my work, we went to a seafood restaurant, chatted and then he dropped me off. Beyond that, I can’t remember anything else. To the best of our knowledge, that was 5 years ago. Maybe we both just needed to grow up a bit. I know I did. As I think about it, I’m sure the fault was mine. I have had some pretty dumb expectations about who I would date. Yeah, I would go out on a blind date with a random guy, but if he didn’t pass muster by the end of it, there was little hope for him.
But as we’ve been talking and getting to know each other better, I’m finding out that there really isn’t much that would have kept me from wanting to date this guy again…except that he’s a year younger than me. Big whoop, at this point. We’re both closing in on 30 now and I’ve lost my drive to be picky on that point.
Amidst our chatting, my grandma was admitted to the hospital and then taken to hospice and then she died. I wasn’t super-close to my grandma, but it was/is still hard and being in the immediate area, I was very busy with family things. I began to think that he would shy away from asking me to go out with him out of respect for my situation, so I decided just to be open and quite a bit more forward than I normally would. He was very much interested in going out…again…and we even decided on the evening after my grandmother’s funeral. Trust me, she would have been overjoyed for me to go on a date and I know she’s in a better place, so there’s limited mourning.
I’ll post more about our “first” date after a bit, but suffice to say, I’m hoping he sticks around for a while. :)
Well, a week after Mr. Rockies boarded a plane and headed back to the mountains, I received the first phone call from him saying that the distance was too hard and he wanted to just be friends. At this point, I was unaffected. Rather, I was fairly glad that HE made the call and I didn’t have to.
From the moment he got off the plane, he wilted. I don’t know what his problem was. I chalked it up to nerves initially and tried to convey that I was comfortable with him, but it was to no avail. He had retreated. All his big talk of being a hugger and even the subsequent discussions of whether we should become more than just friends – nothing would induce him to even hold my hand until we sat in the airport and I leaned over and said “Now would be an appropriate time for you to hold my hand,” to which he responded by taking my hand and then sitting awkwardly like he had no idea what to do now.
But we did have a great time together, as very good friends. But all the drive behind it was gone for me as I couldn’t pull him out of his shell at all. A girl can only initiate so many limp hugs before she gets discouraged and retreats herself. Not only that, we took a long road trip to the wedding of one of his friends and he slept the whole way. Nearly 10 hours in a car, one way, and limited conversation because he couldn’t stay awake…nor decide to help me stay awake as I was driving the whole time. I was not a fan.
So, when the call came, I was relieved. And that closes his chapter in The Nameless Chronicles.