The first date with 3 was kind of magical. We met for some Mexican food, followed by a dive bar, and then a moonlit stroll late into the warm, blustery night. Her eyes were vibrant and sparkled – she sparkled – as she talked, with passion, and I sort of lost myself in the moment, transcended into a fuzzy warmth. It was a great feeling, whatever it was – floaty, tingly, electric. I wasn’t sure if she was feeling the same way until I asked to kiss her. A sweet, shy kiss, and then it was time to go.
The next day the texts came – agreement that the night was above average – punctuated by her with emoticons. Ah. Emoticons. Aren’t those used by school kids? It was fine – cute even – and I responded in kind. A week or so later we met again.
She told me she had recently come out of a long term relationship. A secret relationship. She had been the mistress to a very well known international rock star for over a year. In fact, he was helping her write songs for her band. Their relationship had recently ended – he had also recently been divorced – I don’t know whether the two were related. I think I kept a straight face. I have no idea if this was true or not, and really no way to verify any of it. No pictures, or anything like that. The music I heard bore little resemblance to anything remotely similar to what this rock star had done previously. I went with it. (Actually, I wanted companionship – a connection – I was seeing only what I wanted and ignoring the rest, having fun – for awhile). She was confident, attractive, sexy, interesting, but yeah, maybe a little crazy. She had an impossible living arrangement. In any case, we went for drinks, we made out.
We met again. By this time she had sent me articles on how apparently we are perfect for each other and what kind of babies we would have. I thought it was cute – affectionate and fun – I tried to ignore the rational voice in my head whispering ‘crazy’.
We met once more and on this occasion I was going to use distance to cool things off – to get out of it as I was incapable of pulling the plug – I didn’t want to hurt feelings. I was taking a trip, and she was taking a trip – it was a good time to break. I had become less attracted to her – the ‘crazy’ was more real, there was clinginess, and the reality of her situation was prohibitive. I was over it. Not a good fit. I’m not feeling ready, let’s chat when we get back from our trips, I said. I shouldn’t have left the door open but I did.
About 3 or 4 weeks passed and I needed to close this out. We met and caught up. Seeing her again reinforced what I had thought, but somehow, after many drinks, still ended up at her place. I was weak. After that, it was over.
3 was a ‘relationship’ that lasted about 2 months (with a good 3 week or so gap). There was no way it was a good match, and never sure if she was in fact ‘crazy’. That initial night was pretty great and gave me hope at a time when I was plenty hurt and disillusioned and uncertain that I would ever be in like again.