This isn’t the first time I thought that about a guy who ended up being an incredible lover.
(Someone dial a shrink to tell me what THAT means).
He wore this adorable patch work coat, the kind that leapt right off the pages of a J.Crew catalog.
(Though later I was informed it was actually from The Banana……..Whatever. I still say J.Crew-but I digress)
He had on a skinny blue tie and a lavender colored shirt (or was it a lavender tie and a blue shirt)
Regardless to say, he looked like a pastel rainbow of J.Crew (fine, BANANA) awesomeness.
He had on a skinny blue tie and a lavender colored shirt (or was it a lavender tie and a blue shirt)
Regardless to say, he looked like a pastel rainbow of J.Crew (fine, BANANA) awesomeness.
And let’s face it.
The only good looking men who dress well in Portlandia are GAY.
Or work at Nordstrom.
(And are probably gay).
(And are probably gay).
He was an engineer.
A sales engineer.
Whatever the hell that entails.
He told me about it and I nodded understandingly while he explained what his company did and what his role in that company was.
I couldn’t tell you what exactly he was rambling on about.
Something about apps and troubleshooting and sales and blah blah blah, some techie techie, downtown snazzy dressing job.
All I got from his work speech was that he probably made enough money that I wasn’t going to have to pay for my Sazerac.
I love whiskey, all of a sudden.
I swear I spent my twenties drinking as much vodka as I could get my drunk hands on and all of a sudden in my thirties, it’s whiskey.
I feel so sophisticated now.
And in some unspoken way, though the men will never say it outright, they think it’s sexier when I order an old fashioned than my vodka soda with a splash of Sprite.
(Even drunk I’m high maintenance).
Old Fashioned.
That’s his drink.
It had become my drink of choice ever since my Mother told me I should try one.
I even have some quip on my dating profiles about how we can spend our date sipping old fashioneds at the zoo.
I know.
I’m fucking adorable.
And it turns out that was his drink as well.
Even has an Instagram hashtag devoted to his love affair.
#oldfashionedchronicles
How fucking adorable is he?
If I’m honest, when I first met him, after our first date, I wasn’t really sure if I was interested.
But that doesn’t make for a good story.
They’re always supposed to go something like……
‘I knew from the moment he walked in the room that we had a connection.’
But I can’t say anything like that.
It’s not the truth.
It wasn’t really until the third date which was about a month after first meeting him.
But all of a sudden I realized there was this insane fire between us.
Tragically, the Fire Starter would be moving shortly.
To IRELAND.
Which would make it a little difficult to continue having great sex.
Tragically, the Fire Starter would be moving shortly.
To IRELAND.
Which would make it a little difficult to continue having great sex.
No girl wants to admit that a guy is her Transition Guy, her Rebound Guy, the guy she uses to physically move on from the last man she loved.
But that was what he was to me.
Which I’m sure he would actually be thrilled with since he admitted he had no desire to be any woman’s boyfriend.
“I’m not good boyfriend material anyway :)”
‘We would have threesomes all the time ;)’
“Well, that’s different then :)”
(We like emoticons).
There’s something inherently attractive in knowing a relationship with a guy is never going to become FBO (that’s Facebook Official, Mom) because he’s moving to another country and is a modern day Don Juan of all woman kind.
I felt a little like Charlotte when she’s dating Mr. Pussy in 'Sex and the City.'
“Hang on, honey, you don’t fall in love with Mr. Pussy. You enjoy him and then set him free.”
The man did have a gift.
If ever there was a man to get over an ex with?
It was him.
When I walked into his house that last night (Which I would later discover, wouldn't actually be our last night together) he answered the door wearing nothing but a pair of striped underwear.
(Yes! That’s exactly what I wanted! Don’t talk! Just take your clothes off!!)
I was wearing a striped dress, coincidentally with no underwear.
(Now, how’d I go and forget a thing like that? My goodness!)
It was too damn perfect, like some scene in a movie.
You’d a thought we‘d called each other to coordinate.
But it was just a physical manifestation of the connection that we shared.
(Or it was a fabulous fluke of orgasmic proportions).
Either way it was perfect.
What are the odds?
We could have matched.
Before I left he showed me clothes he bought for his trip and different ties he had.
One of the bow ties he had was this navy blue one with green whales on it from J.Crew.
I shook my head and laughed when I saw it.
I shook my head and laughed when I saw it.
I totally have the navy sweater with the same little green whales on it from the same season, however many years ago from J.crew.
We could have matched.
We were a great match.
He awakened something in me I didn’t know had fallen asleep.
As I laid in bed after spending that last night together, (what I thought would be our final night, anyway) I felt so content.
I might never see him again but I knew that was okay.
Because he gave me exactly what I was needing exactly when I needed it.
Though I certainly wouldn’t have complained if he’d come into my life six months sooner.
(Ba dum dum. Insert snicker).
But because our affair was a brief flame I never had to deal with the sadness of a break up or the tears that accompany it.
We knew from the beginning that this had an expiration date and I think that’s part of what made it so exciting.
He made me feel seen for the first time in ages.
I was reminded of what it felt like to be captivating to someone.
His first message to me was that he thought my Youtube videos were hilarious.
And it wasn’t just the flattery that got my attention, but the specific nature of the compliment.
I pour my heart out into my videos and each one is a genuine representation of who I am.
They’re silly, they’re ridiculous, they have me singing and dancing and maybe voicing an opinion about everything under the sun.
And he liked them and he asked me out so that we could share our dating stories.
And he invited me to go to Teardrop which is one of my favorite bars in Portlandia.
One of the last things he said to me was that it was going to be interesting to watch what happens with my dating in Portlandia.
Because he will be watching.
And that makes my heart glad.
I live for an audience.
I live for an audience.
It became our tradition every bar we went, to order old fashioneds together.
I’d asked him what bar in Portlandia he thought had the best old fashioneds and while it was difficult for him to choose one place he said The Box Social.
I’d planned on going there and having an old fashioned the night he left.
But the night we had our unplanned rendezvous we actually met up at the Box Social.
Which seemed fitting and somehow poetic.
Which seemed fitting and somehow poetic.
Another orgasmic coincidence, perhaps.
Though I do think Life herself is far more clever than all that.
I guess when the connection’s strong enough, one more night isn’t really enough.
I think he also just wanted to see me.
He'd never sent me a text like that telling me which bar he was going to be at.
Too fucking adorable.
And as ridiculous as this sounds, it wasn't really until that unexpected delight of a night that I felt like he really liked me.
I knew we had chemistry, I knew he found me attractive.
But when a guy is going to leave the country in 48 hours, and he's out drinking with his best friends, he doesn't text some random girl.
He texts the woman he longs to see.
'I wasn’t directing you. That was because you were so drunk I was trying to help stabilize you.'
I guess when the connection’s strong enough, one more night isn’t really enough.
I think he also just wanted to see me.
He'd never sent me a text like that telling me which bar he was going to be at.
Too fucking adorable.
And as ridiculous as this sounds, it wasn't really until that unexpected delight of a night that I felt like he really liked me.
I knew we had chemistry, I knew he found me attractive.
But when a guy is going to leave the country in 48 hours, and he's out drinking with his best friends, he doesn't text some random girl.
He texts the woman he longs to see.
The other thing that was awesome about that night was the candid things we said to each other, reliving several of the moments we'd experienced together.
"I thought it was so cheesy the way you directed me when you first kissed me. You were like, 'put your arms around my neck' and I was like, 'wait are you directing me?'"
'I wasn’t directing you. That was because you were so drunk I was trying to help stabilize you.'
The embarassment and shock I felt was hysterical.
He wasn’t the directing cheese ball.
I was the drunk girl almost falling over.
I know I will always think of him, even if it’s for a breath, every time I drink an old fashioned.
And I hope there will be moments, unexpected little whispers, where he sees my face in a memory and thinks of me too.
And maybe if Life, if Timing and her warped sense of humor have anything to say about it our paths will cross again.
And until then…….he sure made for a fantastic fucking chapter.
And until then…….he sure made for a fantastic fucking chapter.
He shared his life mantra with me:
If it’s not a fuck yeah, then it’s a no.
So I’m bringing that into all of my life, especially my dating life.
No more settling.
No more mediocrity.
No more men who don’t tell me I’m beautiful or smile when I want to take pictures with them. There’s a world of men out there waiting to meet me.
And I can't fucking wait, to meet them too.
Fuck Yeah.
No more mediocrity.
No more men who don’t tell me I’m beautiful or smile when I want to take pictures with them. There’s a world of men out there waiting to meet me.
And I can't fucking wait, to meet them too.
Fuck Yeah.
*No, this blog was not sponsored by J.Crew. It was a fucking coincidence. Not orgasmic, however.*
