This is Part II of my grand love story. At least in my mind it’s grand, so read on!
It turns out FlyBoy did check my blog out before going away; however, not knowing this at the time, I was certain he was less than enthused at the idea of meeting me. As all my readers know, this would have been incredibly shortsighted on his part – oh, yes! – but I figured, well, whatever; it had been worth a shot, right? At least I could say I explored MY options, even if he wasn’t exploring his.
About a week and a half later Bob — who’s one heck of a guy — told me that FlyBoy was back in town and was interested in contacting me after all. I knew from my sources that he was on the shy side, so I took his “sure, she can email me at this address” in stride. Hey, since I was the pursuer who started the darned thing, I saw no reason to back down now.
I emailed him a warm and witty introduction.
He emailed something equally warm and witty back — showing a stunning display of complete sentences and mastery of grammar. I was intrigued.
We exchanged a few more emails and then I made the move to suggest we meet for lunch later that week. Brazen hussy, you say? Perhaps, but at this point in life I saw no reason to delay. There’s no other way to tell if you have potential with someone until you meet in person…regardless if the person seems to like good grammar and 80’s music/references as much as you do.
Although this was a positive step, I approached our first date with a “yeah, whatever” kind of attitude. It’s not that I wasn’t interested, but I had been down the nice-schmice road before. In fact, the day of our lunch I put on something clean but not what I would consider my best first date effort; I ordered a first-date “no-no” of a pulled pork sandwich (we were at a BBQ place); and I almost had the poor guy meet me at a steakhouse that had gone out of business.
Note that I didn’t REALIZE that the restaurant had gone out of business until my dad mentioned this to me the night before. WHY had I even mentioned an upcoming date to my father in the first place? God only knows, but I’m glad I did. Otherwise poor FlyBoy might have thought I was more interested in jumping him in back of the vacant building for his wallet than potentially jumping his bones.
As it turns out, our first date at the restaurant NEXT to the vacant building was a really fun, relaxed 2+ hour lunch. Still, it was just a first date. I wasn’t about to get my hopes up. I remember telling my girlfriends in Chicago days later that he was super nice, smart, cute and funny, but… But what? I didn’t know what, except that I should give us a few more chances to go out.
And we did. Next, we met for dinner and I got giddy on attention and sangria. I felt that amazing tingle when my arm brushed against his, and a pleasant shock when he leaned over unexpectedly and planted a wet one on me over tapas. (Hmm, not so shy after all, come to think of it.)
On our third date we rented a movie and watched it at his place. (Yes, we watched it!) What really took me by surprise, though, was when he pulled out a key lime pie for dessert — the pie he had baked for me because he remembered how I said in passing on our previous date that I loved key lime pie.
He baked me a pie.
By the way, I’m sure he’s embarrassed if he’s reading this right now. As he said that night, “Susan, really. It only called for, like, three ingredients. No big deal.”
O, contraire, Fred Astaire!
Ladies, back me up on this: a man who listens, remembers and bakes? Big. Deal.
Anyway, we went out on more dates, some loftier (and crazier) than others, but all giving us the chance to get to know one another — and giving me glimpses into a man who was attentive, sweet, funny and one of the most genuine people I’d ever met. Someone who, for the first time in my life, let me relax and laugh and be me without worry…while treating me consistently and genuinely with love and respect. All the time.
It was just like my mom had told me months before: “Susan, what you need is someone who is just…[searching for the right word] simpatico!” I certainly did and I was finding it with FlyBoy (oh, heck, let’s call him “J”). Strangely enough, shortly after we met, J. emailed me one morning, “We are so simpatico, it’s crazy.”
I had never mentioned that word to him before.
Definitely simpatico and crazy.
In retrospect, I’m still not sure why things worked out so well this time around for me. Maybe it was timing, or luck. Maybe a higher force was at work. Maybe it was just that chain of change: me taking another chance; Bob taking a chance with his friends and on me, someone he didn’t know very well; and FlyBoy/J taking a chance on meeting someone new, out of the blue — something that he has since confessed he never would have done before.
Maybe it was just me having this blog.
All I know is that when J. asked me to marry him last weekend, all I could do was say, “Yes.”