How I fell, part three.
I saved D in my phone as “D” for two reasons: 1. I have a wild imagination, and 2. I had just finished reading Julie Powell’s second memoir, “Cleaving,” about her sexy affair with a man she called “D.”
A girl can dream.
The day following our first date was a Tuesday, which meant I only got three hours of sleep before I had to get ready for work, with a raging hangover.
Later that morning, D texted me from class (he was in school after being in the air force) saying he, too, was suffering from a terrible hangover. But, he also told me again just how much fun he had and how pretty he thought I was.
I was flattered, and very much looking forward to our next date.
But over the next few days, and even weeks, he never asked me.
He would text me, ask me about my day, work, and sometimes he would even say he missed me, but he never asked me out on a date.
A few times, he would ask me to meet up with him late at night, at a friend’s house. But for several reasons, I declined.
The relationship I was in prior to meeting D, was years of informal dating—meeting up places, often late—it was a glorified booty call. I knew I didn’t want to fall into another similar pattern.
Eventually, D stopped texting me, and that was that. I thought about him often; it was rare to have such a good date and then nothing at all, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
About every 3 or 4 months we would text each other about various things, “Oh, this reminded me of you,” or, “I’ve got extra football tickets if you want them,” but that was the extent of our conversations. I never saw him.
On Valentine’s Day this year, I was chatting with a guy friend of mine online. We were talking about previous Valentine’s Days and people we’ve dated, etc. I thought of D.
So, I looked through my phone (which was only a month old) to see if I still had him saved in the contacts list. There he was: D.
“Was just thinking about you, Happy Valentine’s Day, D!”
I absolutely did not think he would write me back. Up until then, I had no idea why he didn’t ask me on that second date—for all I knew, he hated me.
But, he replied.
“Crazy thing, I thought about you the other day. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Holly!”
…He thought about me? Weird.
“I hope it was a good thought?” I replied.
“Always a good thought when it comes to you,” he wrote back.
Over the next few days, we continued to text. Mostly, it was friendly, until he asked me if it was okay to call me—uh, of course!
When he called, I was nervous, but to my relief, it was the same amazing conversation I remembered. It was easy.
So, if it was so great, why didn’t we ever go on that second date, I asked him.
“I had an amazing time with you, but I wasn’t in a position to date. I hit a slump in my life, had to move back home for a little but, and was embarrassed. I was intimidated by you and didn’t think I had anything to offer you,” he said.
At the time we’d gone on the date, he was in school and was working as a waiter. He never mentioned having to live with his parents to save money.
A year later, he had gotten a promotion to manage the restaurant, had moved into a nice house with two guy roommates, and had taken a break from school.
Here I’d gone the entire year thinking this guy didn’t like me, that he just wanted a booty call, when it was really just him trying to work things out on his end.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Posted on August 6, 2013, in The Squeeze and tagged alcoholic, dating, drinking, first date, food, heartbreak, Holly A. Phillips, How to Make Lemonade, Julie Powell, life, love, relationships, The Bitter Lemon, twenty-something. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.