10 \ W. W.

November 2013
Like 9, I met 10 by analog means, this time directly through a good friend. We first met in October, an East Side happy hour, where I was with friends. I ran into my friend there unexpectedly, and she introduced us. We chatted for a bit (we were both super into Breaking Bad) and then it was time to go. She was young, attractive, bright. I was playing a show a week or so later and, with encouragement from my friend, she motioned that she would come along.

A week or two pass, and the night of the show, she indeed arrives with my friend. We chat a good bit, and spend the majority of the evening together – light, yet intentional touches on the arm, about the waist – friendly, flirty body language – until she has to go. Even with my inane inability to read signs and body language, I could tell this was going well. I ask for her number, she gives it, with a hug goodbye.

We spend the next few weeks texting (she doesn’t like the phone). After a few non-starts we arrange to meet. There is some reluctance on her part – recently out of a relationship and still emotionally wrapped up in it. I can relate. Finally we meet for dinner.

It was a mostly lovely dinner, a little awkward – guarded even – but with a few glasses of wine it starts to feel better. Still, I wasn’t at all prepared for what was to come.

As we close down the restaurant she says she has had just too many to drive. We decide that her spending the evening at my home makes the best sense – I would return her to her car in the morning. We arrive at my house. At this point my inability to read signs is hilariously painful. Politeness – being a gentleman – fogs my vision. As I show her something ridiculous in my kitchen (glasses? plates?!?) she wraps her arms around my neck, plants her lips on my lips, tongue in my mouth, and leg around my waist. (I laugh at how surprised by all of this I am. On the inside.)

In the morning we awake – after awhile we dress and go fetch her car. As we are leaving my place I see my neighbor – we definitely have that ‘morning after’ look, all disheveled and slightly bleary – and in that moment I think to myself this is how it is going to be; companions in and out of my home – this is the first person that has been in my place. It’s a feeling mixed with that shame but also a sense of liberation and freedom. I really liked this girl – and I think that helped with the shame factor and general good feeling I was having.

But it was not meant to be. She was too wrapped in her recent break up. And while we had some common interests, they were not that strong and we in fact had little in common. She was cute, young, worked very hard and had ambition, and was smart. All of that was attractive. She was also a little sad – a lot sad – and there was some darkness there. I tempered my desire to have that companion, that partner, with the reality that this likely would not have been a good fit in the long, or even short run.

We have common friends and I see her around a good little bit. It’s always sweet and never awkward, and we have remained friends.


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