Reappearing Acts

I ended up hanging out with Martin again last Friday night. We tentatively scheduled to meet up a couple of days before but made no solid plans. I was ambivalent about whether I actually wanted it to happen or whether he himself would follow through, so I ended up scheduling dinner/drinks with a girlfriend of mine for Friday evening as well because she seemed to be under the weather and to need some companionship.

So when Martin texted me that afternoon asking if we were still on, I decided to try and combine the two because I would’ve felt bad about blowing him off. I told him I was meeting up with a girlfriend and that he would be welcome to join. He was hesitant at first about “interrupting” but I assured him it would be fine. I also spoke to said girlfriend – Alana – and made sure it was okay with her. She, too, was reluctant at first because she felt like she would just be the third wheel on a date, but I explained that Martin was just a guy I had gone on one date with and as of now it was more friendly than anything. She was cool with it.

Martin and I live near-ish to each other, and the meeting spot was a spot in a city about 25 minutes away, so he offered to come pick me up. I accepted. I thought that was sweet. Dinner was at 7 so I told Martin to be at my house at 6:30. Between getting off work and then, I had to squeeze in a microblading touch-up appointment I had at 5 p.m. I ended up getting home a little after 6 p.m. with just enough time to spare to care for the cat and refresh myself before he was there to pick me up.

Alana ran about 15 minutes late, but when she arrived I introduced them and everyone got along well and dinner was grand. As it was Friday night and I hadn’t driven, I got a little bit tipsy and then came up with the grand idea of going back to Martin’s place with him to play video games (while Alana was in the bathroom). He was with it, so he took me back and I played about 10 minutes of Fallout 4 and we watched maybe 15 minutes of The Conjuring 2 before we just decided to hit the hay. We drank a little more at his place so I was quite inebriated. I had warned him beforehand that there would definitely be no sex due to the boob situation and he was fine with that. We made out some but that was that.

In the morning we decided to watch the rest of The Conjuring 2 and then he dropped me back home. We had discussed next hanging out on Wednesday. We texted intermittently for the rest of the weekend about our Halloween shenanigans and on Tuesday he did follow up about hanging out the next day, but I never responded. I don’t know why. Or, I do – just not feeling it. But I guess that’s “ghosting” and it’s mean and I should say something though.

Meanwhile, Ross is being quite persistent. I did respond to his mushy diatribe and basically told him I have some issues with men to work through. He responded with how he was “gravely” hurt twice and not ready to open up about it, but does want to hang out. He asked to bring me lunch at work the next day (Monday) but that was my first day back after being off for a week due to my boob job and I knew I’d have a mountain of work to catch up on, so I declined, but suggested maybe a happy hour during the week. He didn’t respond for a couple of days, then texted me on Wednesday about a buddy of his dying on early Tuesday morning from some sudden medical issue. I told him I was sorry but then I didn’t respond for the next few days even though he texted me every day thereafter. On Sunday, he asked why I hadn’t been responding and I told him I had had a rough, tiring, week. Which I had. My boss – who was the best in the world – was leaving for another job and it was her last week so it made me kind of down in the dumps all week, plus the effort of planning for a surprise send-off for her on Friday. I wasn’t getting a lot of sleep and really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody.

He asked why it was rough but I didn’t respond and then 8 hours later get a petulant “Hello?” so I finally ask what exactly it is he wants from me. He went into how he wants to get to know me…hasn’t met anyone else he’s had an interest in since meeting me…he has a “vibe it’s worth a try”…blah, blah, blah. I told him I may be willing to hang out and this pattern of texting ensues:


Jesus…certainly very persistent. I did finally halfway agree to a date for tomorrow night although I have a sushi lunch gathering at a girlfriend’s house in the afternoon and don’t really know how long that will be, if I will feel like going out afterward, or if I really want to go out with Ross. But then if I don’t, I guess I should tell him.

THEN, to top all that off, I get a text from a mysterious phone number yesterday afternoon soon after I got home from work. I tried looking it up in my email (I have an app that backs up every text I send or receive to an email folder, for situations exactly like these), but nothing came up. So after small bit of a song and dance about who it was, it turned out to be none other than Adam, the guy who unceremoniously kicked me to the curb last year.

So, it did just so happen that last week I got to catching up with my buddy, Clyde, who is a coworker of Adam’s. After the original implosion, I vented to Clyde about the situation in the hopes that maybe some of it would get back to Adam because I felt bad about my reaction and Adam had blocked me on pretty much every medium. And, of course, tried a half-assed attempt at smoothing things over with Adam that yielded zero results. Then I moved on with my life.

From time to time, although he had blocked me, I’d still see Adam in pictures on Facebook through either his job or mutual friends, but I didn’t particularly feel any certain kind of way and I never reached out again. A colleague of Clyde’s ended up adding me on Facebook, and I learned through pictures of his that he was friends with Adam as well, and possibly even a former roommate. I’ve never spoken to him though – not sure if he knows about me and Adam or not and it’s really not consequential to anything. In my Bumble travels a couple of months ago, I also ran across Adam’s profile, but I definitely swiped left. And that was about it as far as Adam goes until yesterday.

I was just texting with Clyde last week to catch up and I mentioned my boob job and joked that “Adam lost out,” but it definitely was not really for any purpose of trying to get to Adam – just an honest joke. But then come yesterday, Adam says that Clyde mentioned me to him the other day so he just thought he would reach out. We did some brief catching up and then he wanted to know “if everything is cool now.” I assured him I was over it. He then asked if I had any interest in talking to him. I asked what he would like to talk about and then he randomly asked how we originally met. I replied with “Bumble” and he said he just wanted to make sure it was me because it “didn’t sound like me,” whatever that means. I guess maybe he was expecting fireworks and a parade because he suddenly texted me out of the blue after that shit he pulled last year – uh, what exactly is it you want me to say?

Be that as it may, we ended up having cordial conversation for most of the evening. He did in fact try subtly sniffing around my status by asking “how the rest of the male population is treating me,” AKA “Are you single?” so I’m sensing a little interest there I think, although who knows if it’s genuine or it will just be the same shit all over again. He ended up ending conversation by saying he’s going to bed because he has to be up early. I bade him good night and that was that.

I figure if it was honestly just to “catch up” and see how I’m doing, then that will be the end of it. If he ends up texting me again, then I will know he wants more.

But what I want…I don’t really know.


On or around June 1, I matched with a gent on Tinder that I shall call…hmmm…Wiley. Wiley was immediately very eager and communicative, and although I could take him or leave him initially, as I can the majority of men on Tinder, he grew on me in spite of myself and I ended up giving him my phone number a few days later. Sometimes it’s just the obvious effort that can make all the difference – he looked cute and seemed nice and smart and really interested in me, so there was really no reason for me not to like him, only it’s Tinder and so it’s difficult for me to really strive to make the effort to entertain anyone seriously. But when one really appears to strive to keep himself on my radar, like Wiley did, it kind of makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

We started texting the Sunday before last, and it wasn’t long into our conversation that day before he staked his claim to take me out the next Saturday.  Which I liked because that told me he was committed to the idea at least, and plus I was enjoying our banter already.

Wiley is good looking, but he’s not exactly my traditional type in terms of our political ideologies. He’s a journalist and leans a couple of ticks more to the left than I do or like my men to. To add more fuel to the fire, his profession and my profession especially tend to butt heads a lot. But he specializes in the political scene and thus has a lot of knowledge of and insight into current events and people of interest, and although we don’t exactly perfectly align when it comes to certain topics, we’re not too egregiously dissimilar. And really, our philosophical differences only added a little bit of spice to our conversations, as they gave us a good foundation for flirtatious teasing and banter and general mentally stimulating debate. Good stuff.

We exchanged selfies somewhat throughout the week, which is crucial to minimizing the catfish risk. It was still him…he was still cute. Cool. Our first phone conversation took place on Thursday night. He was out of town for work and that actually happened to be the first day where I texted him in the a.m. and didn’t hear anything from him all day. When he still hadn’t responded going on 8 hours later, I started feeling mildly put off and sent him a catty “Or not…” to relay that. As it turned out, he was just busy with interviews and studio work all day and didn’t have free access to his phone. All was well. I’d had kind of a crummy day at work and then some of my friends happened to piss me off as well, so I felt like connecting with someone. I also wanted to make sure he wasn’t some drastic weirdo in the wake of our upcoming date, so I asked him to call me later that night, which he did. We talked for maybe 40 minutes or so. He sounded like a normally functioning human being and we were able to carry on a conversation just as breezily as through text, so I was pleased in that respect. And pretty excited about our date in 2 days’ time.

I had another crummy day at work on Friday, and so in turn I ventured out solo on Friday night to drink my sorrows away, and I drank them away and then some. I got so drunk that I A) Lost my check card (unbeknownst to me until Sunday afternoon) and then B) Sent a series of drunk texts to Wiley being generally whorish and then lamenting about how he’d probably think ill of me if I ended up sleeping with him the next night. He assured me he didn’t think that way (but of course he’d say that), and added that both of his most recent significant relationships started off like that. Then I passed out and forgot about everything until I woke up the next morning trying to piece together the events of the night before.

I was moderately hung over, but Gatorade and water solved that pretty sufficiently, thank goodness, as I had a hot date to start getting ready for sooner or later and I wanted to be in tip-top shape.

Wiley lives about 50 minutes away from me, and the date was taking place in his neck of the woods. He was kind enough to offer to pick me up but I didn’t feel the need to have him drive all the way to me for that and I decided to just Uber to a town about 15 minutes up the road from him and to have him pick me up from there since he wanted to be all traditional.

He booked us for an 8:30 p.m. dinner reservation and then for a 10:30 p.m. reservation at a fancy cocktail joint afterward. I was awful flattered that he had taken the time and effort to plan this and that there was an action-packed night ahead. After my last couple of days at work, I definitely needed the getaway.

We arranged for him to pick me up from the Uber around 7 p.m. Shortly thereafter I got to the destination to discover that he had sent me a series of texts trying to get me to meet him outside of a metro station, but my phone was on silent so I didn’t see them until I was out of the Uber already. So I had to stand around on a crowded corner for a little bit to wait for him to figure out where I am in relation to him and then traverse the couple of blocks to get to me. Traffic was kind of backed up due to there being some type of festival or something going on and streets blocked off as a result. But it wasn’t too long before he was calling me to tell me he was right behind a delivery truck that was across the street from me, only we were hidden from each others’ view initially due to a bus stopped on my side. Cue  an instant of random sudden shyness as I realized all would be revealed once the bus moved away and the moment of truth commenced. I’m typically not that shy or self-conscious in moments like these so I don’t really know where that came from. I guess because I kind of liked him and wanted all to go well.

And it did. The bus moved, he saw me on the other side of the street, and we waved. I went to try to cross the street, but the light was green and I didn’t want to try to rush it because I was teetering in the high heels he insisted I wear. So THAT was actually a little awkward as he stood outside of his car waiting for me and I kind of just stood there like a jackass waiting for the light to turn before saying F it and walking over anyway.

And there was Wiley – just as he looked in his pictures. No surprises. He came to my side of the car and we greeted and hugged and he opened my door for me. What a gentleman.

He was instantly touchy-feely in the car, in a good way. The plan was for him to take his car back to his house and Uber the couple of blocks to the restaurant, as parking would be horrendous in that area. In his car, he immediately took my hand and held it for a little while along the way, and varied between either that or placing his hand gently on my thigh. And I welcomed it. I thought it was cute that he was into being so physically affectionate immediately…it seemed like he was pleased with what he saw, at least.

We got to his neighborhood and waited in the car while he ordered the Uber. It was just about 8 p.m. at that point, so we were due to be a little early for our reservation. He gave me the option of coming in his house for a glass of wine for a little bit, or heading to the restaurant and having a pre-drink there if our reservation wasn’t ready. I opted for the latter.

We were at the restaurant within 10 minutes and our reservation was not ready, but we sat at a window seat at the bar for a little bit sipping bourbon (he) and wine (me) until our reservation was ready. I gave him points for his restaurant selection – a trendy spot that, while maybe the slightest bit pretentious, had a unique rustic, hipster-ish vibe to it. We were both maybe just a tad overdressed for it – he in a suit with no tie, I in a dress and sparkling heels, but the restaurant was intimate enough that no one was really paying attention to us anyway.

We shared a meat and cheese board appetizer, and then a rib-eye steak dinner designed for 2 to share. The food was divine.

As was the conversation. Just as in text, and the whole of the night itself, the conversation never languished. Our different political temperaments reigned supreme at certain points, but not in any kind of tense way, or even in a clashing sense…it was more of a general sharing of thoughts and ideals civilly and with open minds. Everything you’re not supposed to talk about on a first date, we talked about – politics, religion, exes (well…his). All the good stuff.

The one minor glitch in the matrix was revealed when he advised me he’s actually 43 and not 37 as his Tinder profile states. Hmmm. His explanation was that he doesn’t really use Facebook as much as other types of social media and when he set it up years ago, he mostly likely put in a false year of birth so as not to have too much of his info out there. Sounds plausible…not the first time I’ve heard that in regards to Tinder age discrepancies, but most people explain that in their profile. Either way, no big deal. Everything about him was still true to form, so I wasn’t going to get pissy over 6 years. He wore every bit of his 43 years well. So I could let that slide.

Most notably, at some points, Wiley made reference to future activities for us, like baseball games and skeet shooting and things like that. He at one point remarked on how I was the most beautiful woman in the room, and, as we were walking out, commented on how many heads I was turning (*Gush*). He certainly knows how to lay on the charm. Fitting, being as he talks for a living. He knows how to work people. But even if he was working me, it didn’t really feel like that. It felt nice. Genuine.

At some point in the night I checked my phone finally and saw a text from him: “You look gorgeous.” This was well after the fact, but he had sent it around 8 p.m., around the time when we were either waiting for or already in the Uber from his place. Total Prince Charming.

The next spot on the agenda was about a block away. It was a speakeasy type of place that offered specialized cocktails. We had a couple of rounds there but as the night wore down and my feet started to hurt (one of which Wiley had me stretch across to his seat so he could rub it), I started feeling tired and decided that since I’m feeling like having sex with this guy, we might as well get that show on the road and go back to his place. So I suggested he close the check and we retire back to his place for wine. No argument there.

We first kissed outside while we were waiting for the Uber. Not in a needy, lustful, aching-to-rip-each-others’-clothes-off kind of way, but in a sweet, patient way.

Uber arrived and we were back at his place in 10 minutes. It was there that I got to relieve my feet of those pretty, but torturous, heels, and get acquainted with Wiley’s handsome cat while he busied himself with pouring us some wine. I explored my immediate surroundings some – his bookshelves, particularly – and then we settled in on the couch in front of the TV for a little while sipping wine and conversing tipsily.

As expected, one thing lead to another and soon we were making out on his couch and then progressively ventured on to other recreational activities that we decided the bedroom was more suited for.

The sex was splendid…he’s attentive, he’s big, and he’s aggressive and mildly domineering, which suits me. Good times were had by all. Once we were done (and I’d consumed another glass of wine to re-hydrate…or, just for the hell of it really since it’s actually not hydrating at all), he motioned me over to the crook of his arm and we fell asleep together.

We woke up around 8 or so the next morning to the preliminary news about the club shooting in Orlando. Yikes. He commented that I look pretty in the morning (sans contacts, so I doubt that). Another round of sex ensued eventually and then he mentioned getting the day started and went to go start freshening up. I took that as my cue and started exploring the living room to find my various items of clothing that had been scattered there from the night before. It didn’t really seem like he was in a brunch kind of mood, but I mentioned it anyway. He said he’d love to on any other day, but he was headed to a baseball game later so needed to drop me back off and then get in a few hours of work in before then. Darn. Oh well…wishful thinking. Even still, he never made me feel like he was trying to rush me out of there – he even fed me blueberries. I knew it was just a matter of him being a little pressed for time. After all, my sleeping over wasn’t officially planned.

I asked when our next date would be and he exclaimed that it sounded like a good idea to get that out of the way and immediately checked his phone and tentatively scheduled us again for next Saturday. He warned that he’d be out of town working at least the night before, and maybe into Saturday itself, but said it sounded like it would work. Yay! That gave me something to look forward to.

His car was parked a little bit of a way from his house, so being ever the gentleman, he let me stay inside while he went to get it to bring it right up to the front door for me. He drove me back to the metro station drop off and waited with me there for 15 minutes or so while I waited out a quick surge and then ordered an Uber. He escorted me to the door of the Uber when it came, we kissed goodbye, and that was that.

What a lovely date.

I went home and kind of laid around thinking about everything. I was kind of expecting to hear something from him as the day progressed – a least a hello or what have you –  and as I didn’t I became kind of anxious. The dreaded post-date limbo…will he or won’t he? UGH.

I ended up napping in the late evening until about 9 p.m. When I woke up I said Screw it and sent him a text. He wrote back immediately to explain that the Orlando situation necessitated him traveling out of town for work and he ended up missing the game. Aw. Well, that explained the radio silence for the day at least.

We got to talk some from there and all felt/sounded normal. I had looked up the baseball games in question he’s interested in (his town vs. my hometown) and they’re not until August, but he said it’s a sure thing as long as he’s in town.

I inquired as to what my final hotness percentile is. Before we met, he declared that I was at least in the 97th. Post-meet, I jumped to 99th, but he docked me a point for drunkenly losing my check card on Friday. Darn.

So, I guess I like him. I’d like to see him again. We shall see. He’s cute, he’s intelligent, he seems successful, he’s never been married and doesn’t have any children (but is open to it, which is important to me), and doesn’t really seem to be on the rebound or like the player type. His last relationship ended a couple of months ago after a year and a half because of what, as described to me, sounded like a general incompatibility – he said she was prone to getting drunk in social situations and being obnoxious to other people, and especially towards the end when they had been making plans to move in together, she began starting arguments for no reason so he broke it off and they’ve only spoken once since.

He said he hadn’t been on Tinder long and I was his third date so far…the other 2 he wasn’t feeling and they went nowhere.

I haven’t heard from him all day today, but I know he’s probably busy with work. Now that I know his last name and who he works for, I’ve been able to do a little bit of quality internet stalking and I was even able to listen to a recording of a broadcast he did today. So I’m sure it’s not me. It’s work. Maybe.

Seems promising…

Standby for the impending disaster.

If It Can Go Wrong…

I’m no clairvoyant, but I tend to have a pretty solid sense of intuition in terms of reading people or having feelings about situations and being able to develop a sense of what’s what or what’s likely to occur beyond the scope of tangible evidence. At least, I try to think that it’s sharp intuition at work and not in fact just a general cynicism that compels me to assume the worst and thus inherently disallows all shock and surprise when the worst actually turns out to be true, or does in fact happen. Perhaps it’s a little of both. It’s never my intent to be a pessimist, but rather to be cognizant of all the various possibilities (and probabilities) that could derail plans or expectations.

Pertaining to Reed and Japan in recent weeks, I had all kinds of crazy scenarios running through my head of things that could possibly throw a wrench into my trip. Like anything that could cause the need for drastic military activity – war, or a major terrorism event.  Any kind of serious injury to either of us (which almost came to fruition when I sprained my foot which is why I’ve taken it easy since then). At one point I even read about a volcano eruption in Japan that was causing flights to be canceled. I figured it’d be just my luck that something completely cataclysmic like that would happen at just this time that would somehow thwart my plans to visit Reed.  I’ve never considered myself to have “bad luck” per se, but the way my life has been going lately, it’d just be more of the same.

Another possibility that kept repeating itself in my head from time to time for unknown reasons was a death in Reed’s family. From his Facebook page I could see he had at least one elderly relative who I took to be a grandmother, and the thought crossed my mind several times, What if his grandma dies right before I’m supposed to come and he has to cancel? It wouldn’t be last week, because 2 weeks ahead would be sufficient enough time usually to resolve a situation like that. If it happened while I was there…eh…that could go either way. Maybe we’d have to cut my trip short or maybe not, but at least I would have gotten to see him in person. But if it happened this week, the week before, that could get hairy.

Sure enough, we were talking early this morning while I was getting ready for work. I actually find that to strike the perfect balance between our extremely different (i.e. completely opposite) time zones because when my alarm sounds for me to get up for work, it’s evening there and at least we’re both sufficiently awake and alert. He started texting me at almost 2 AM, but I was in and out of sleep for the most part.

Anyway, we were embroiled in what became our most sexually charged conversation to date. Suffice it to say that the straight-laced, semi-geeky Catholic boy has a few kinks up his sleeve. Figures. The last thing I said to him was that I can’t wait to be in his bed with him, and 8 minutes later he reports that his grandmother passed away.

My heart dropped for two reasons. My first thoughts: Awww. That’s sad. But then (selfishly): Does that affect my visit?

First things first, I offered my condolences and empathy several times. Clearly his loss is the most important thing here. But of course there is also that whole thing about me planning to fly there this coming Sunday, and so I did kind of did need to know if this event would change anything. It’s one of those touchy situations where you don’t want to seem like you’re trying to make it about you, but at the same time you do have a valid cause for concern that should be addressed. As tactfully as I could, I asked if we would need to rearrange anything. He said his mother implored him not to come home because she would rather him stay and relax, but he hasn’t decided if he will stay back or not. If he did decide to go home, he assured me he’d be back in time for my arrival. He said he didn’t want me cancelling my flight and emphasized that he’s still excited to see me (which I thought was sweet to bother to say).

It seems likely that my visit is still on either way, but it’s a bummer to start things off on a bad note like that, with him having to process the emotions of losing a loved one. I inferred that she must’ve been in ill-health because he remarked that her passing wasn’t surprising, but loss is still loss whether sudden or expected. I told him if he wanted to tone our activities down next week, I wouldn’t mind. In any case, I hope that me being there is good for him and helps him to take his mind off of it. I suppose a sympathy card will be in order.

It’s not accurate to say that I KNEW his grandmother would pass, because I really had no reason to think that she would. I wasn’t even sure she was still alive to begin with because all the pictures I THINK I saw of her were from years ago, like at his college graduation and his commissioning ceremony. I just find it interesting that I was nervous that it would happen, and then it did.