I Once Met A Man in Nantucket

     One of the prettiest places in New England is Nantucket.  It's located in Massachusetts and a short boat ride away from Cape Cod.  This popular vacation spot for many Bostonians looks like a backdrop for a Nautical photo shoot. If you’ve been to Nantucket then you know the type of people that vacation there.  For those of you who have never been, there’s only word I could use that best describes the majority these vacationers.  Wealthy. 

     This beautiful Island is inundated with people wearing the bright colors of Lilly Pulitzer and whales from the Vineyard Vines line.  Pearly white smiles, hair extensions and Botox runs ramped here along with diamonds and gold.  I know it sounds tacky but it’s far from it.  For some reason, these people can elegantly pull off the bling. It’s weird.

    Once a year this prestige area holds a sailboat race called Figawi.  Figawi takes place every Memorial Day weekend and the partying is crazy.  I don’t know the history of this race but I do know it draws an incredible amount of people from various income brackets.  This particular year, I was on of those people.

     My friend Mel grew up in Cape Cod and has lived in Boston for years.  Figawi weekend has always been a big deal for her and she usually rents a house for the event.  For some reason, she wasn't able to rent a home this year but she still wanted to celebrate the holiday weekend and get to Nantucket at some point.  She knew I didn't have any major plans for the long weekend so she invited me to stay with her in Boston. 

            “Stay the whole weekend.  We’ll go over to Nantucket for lunch or something.”   Mel said over the phone but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay that long.  Not to mention the fact that the only way to get to Nantucket is by boat.  Again, I don't like boating.

     My initial plan was to drive to Boston Friday night for dinner then return home Saturday.  However, once I entered Mel’s home and she handed me an ice cold drink I knew I was staying for the whole weekend.

“My friend is taking us over to Nantucket on his boat tomorrow.  We’ll see if we can get a room, just in case.”  Mel informed me Saturday night over drinks.   

“Sounds good to me!”  I said.  Clearly I was intoxicated.

    

     Mel’s friend still lives in Cape Cod and owns a huge boat.  They have been friends for years and he has always been generous to us girls.  The only thing he asks from us is to be punctual and to be neat.  So, when he offered to take us over to Nantucket Sunday, we knew we needed to be at his house in the Cape on time.  That meant our friend Jan had to wait for us on the busy streets of Boston with her overnight bag. 

    I worried about the boat ride mostly because I didn’t want to make a mess on his boat.  Before I had time to fixate on my fears, we were on a boat and making overnight accommodations.

    I know you’re all wondering if I survived.  Well, I wore a life jacket and prayed the entire thirty minutes so I was fine.  My friends applauded me when we docked and I appreciated their support.

“That was a pleasant surprise.  Let’s hope the ride home is also uneventful.”  I said as we walked to our hotel.

 We headed to lunch after we checked into our room.  As we approached the restaurant I noticed a line of people waiting for a table.  This was my first time here so I was unaware of the dress code.  I had on a $6 summer dress from H&M circa 2007 while everyone around me wore $1000 outfits.  I could feel the stares from the women as I walked by them and I will admit that I was a little intimidated.  We reached the restaurant and I took my place in line behind a woman wearing a big floppy hat.

“What are you doing?”  Mel asked me

“Waiting in line.” I explained.

“We don’t wait in line in Nantucket. “  She said grabbing my hand.

 Apparently Mel’s friend is well known here so he gets the VIP treatment.   It felt pretty damn good to strut by the swanky ladies.  

            “Good day.”  I said under my breath as I walked by them.

     The wait staff in the restaurant made sure they took very good care of us and I didn’t question a thing.  The food was amazing, the drinks were delicious and the service was outstanding.  We had a blast!

           

“You girls go have your fun and meet me at Lola 41 for dinner.” He said as we walked through the crowded coble streets.  We agreed then synchronized our watches before we went our separate ways. 

            “Here we go!”  Mel said directly to Jan.  I simply smiled not knowing what I was in for.

    We bounced from one jammed packed bar to another.  Jan handed me bright color cocktails while Mel snapped pictures with her camera.  After a few drink, I completely forgot the fact that I was among with wealthy.  

            “Do you want me to take your pictures?”  Some guy asked.

            “SURE!”  Mel replied handing him her camera. 

            “Spin around in circles a few times.”  He said as he snapped pictures.  It was odd but we didn’t care, we were having fun.  

            “Come on! You girls are coming on our boat.”  He said leading us out of the bar.   Of course we had no choice but to follow the handsome man and his friends.

     We exchanged names as we walked to the marina and the usual small talk took place.  These guys were loud and a lot of fun.  They fit right in with the rest of the crowd. I figured the marina would be a quite compared to the bars but I was wrong.  I heard a lot of "WoooHooo" coming from boats that played loud music.
  We climbed onto the docked boat and that’s when I saw him; Nantucket Man.

He wasn’t as boisterous as his friends but I was drawn to his shyness.  Like many other guys on the island, this 6’4’ blond beauty was covered in Vineyard Wear from head to toe.  There was even a Whale stamped on his flip fops!

     The usual introductions were made and the flirting began.

            “Yeah, I live in New York.  Do you ever go to New York?”  He asked before flashing his perfect white teeth.

            “As a matter of fact I do.”  I said wondering if he used white strips.

            “You have to come into the city and let me show you around!”  He said then described all of the restaurants, museums and sporting events that he would take me to.  I hoped that this guy wasn’t screwing with me.  He seemed so nice.

            “We have to go!”  Mel said after she realized the time.

            “Take out your phone.  Her number is 860-123-4567.  Call her later.”  Mel instructed Nantucket Man.  He took my number and promised to get in touch with me later.  Mel, Jan and I jumped off the boat and ran to meet Mel’s friend.  We made it right on time.

     Nantucket Man sent me a text while we were at dinner. 

            “What did your gentleman caller send you?”  Mel’s friend asked.  Of course I had to share my message with everyone at the table and they helped me with my replies. 

            “He asked to meet me later at 21 Federal.”  I informed my friends.

            “Looks like you girls are in for a long night.  Just meet me at 9am.” He said after dinner.

     We met up with Nantucket Man that night.  We hung out at 21 Federal for a while before we headed to another place.  Throughout the night I found out he worked in finance, hedge funds to be exact, and a Harvard graduate.   He lived in NYC for years and loved everything the city had to offer.  His blues eyes danced while he described the places he wanted to take me.

            “I would love to do all of those things.”  I said over the loud music. 

            “I would love to take you!”  He said smiling.  Did I mention the fact that he had nice teeth?  There was a lot of vodka sodas and a lot of promises made by Nantucket Man that night. 

     The next morning was painful.   We had to meet Mel’s friend at 9am.  I volunteered to get ready first but it wasn’t easy.  I stepped over an empty pizza box and tried to piece together the events of the previous night.  From what I could recall, it was a good night and I met a nice guy.  A guy who I planned on seeing again soon.

     Nantucket Man sent me a few texts that day and throughout the week.  He invited me to the city and I really wanted to go but I didn’t want to commit to an overnight night.  Luckily, I have a few friends that live in New York City and I planned on going out to dinner there in a couple weeks.  I suggested that he meet me for a drink after I have dinner with my friend and he agreed.

“A Harvard graduate? Did you tell you tell him you’re an Albertus Magnus Graduate?”  My friend Kelly asked over lunch a few days before my trip to the City. 

            “Nope.  I’ll have to make sure I stress the fact that I was enrolled in the Accelerated Program.  That sounds a little more impressive.”  I said.  We both laughed knowing that it really wasn’t. As I described Nantucket Man to Kelly it dawned on me; we might not be compatible.

            “He sounds nice and all but those rich guys are a different breed.  I bet his family is very proper and he smokes expensive cigars after dinner.”  I said.

            “Oh yeah, totally!  But you could hang with that crowd though.”  She said.

            “You think so?”  I asked

            “Of course you could!  You’re probably the most exciting thing to happen to him.  This could be a great thing!”  She said which made me feel better.

     A few days later I was in my Friend Yasmin’s apartment on the upper east side of New York City.  As we prepared to go out to dinner, I expressed my concern about Nantucket Man.

            “I know I shouldn’t be intimated but I kind of am.”  I confessed.

            “Why?  He’s a guy, like all of the other guys you know.  He just happens to live a comfortable life.”  She said trying to put things into perspective.

            “Yeah, I know that but I’m not sure if I would be comfortable with someone so upscale.  I curse an awful lot in casual conversation.”  I said

            “I’m sure he swears too.  Don’t over think it, lets just meet him tonight.  Who knows, he might be the one.”  She said as we left her apartment. 

    The plan was to have Nantucket Man meet us for a drink later that night.  Half way through dinner I sent him a text letting him know we were in SOHO.  He replied instantly.

          “SOHO sucks.” I read it out loud.  I looked at Yasmin as she stared at me blankly.  My initial reaction was to reply with  “Go fuck yourself” but Yasmin thought that was a little too harsh.  She helped me compose a non-confrontational text that asked him where he would like to meet.  He didn’t give me a straight answer so I let him know that we were going to SOHO Grand then put my phone away.  I ignored the multiple beeps that came from my bag.

            “I’m not in the mood for games tonight.”  I explained to Yasmin.

     We headed to SOHO Grand after dinner and made ourselves comfortable on one of the plush coaches.  We ordered glasses of Prosecco before we read his text messages.  Each one was more ridicules than the last.  I won’t bore you with the details so I’ll just list a few of them:

“There’s going to be a line” 

“They won’t le me in. I’m wearing what I wore in Nantucket”

“People in SOHO are losers”

            “I’m on my way”

            “I’m here.  I don’t see you.”

 

     I walked around the bar and found him in another room.  He gave me a hug hello before I walked him over to where we were sitting.

            “So how long have you lived in New York.”  Yasmin asked after the introductions were made.

            “Too long.” He replied then put his feet up on the table.  His response and action shocked us but it didn’t stop Yasmin from asking another question.

            “Where about in New York do you live? “ She asked politely.

            “Upper East Side.”  He barked.  The waitress walked over and ask Nantucket Man to remove his feet from the table.  I asked her for another drink and so did Yasmin.  We knew we would need another one to get through this.

     Nantucket Man was visibly upset and said the most offensive things.  I will use the word “blank” for each horrible comment he made so you can get an idea of what I mean.

            Yasmin:                      “I live on the Upper East Side.”

            Nantucket Man:         “No you don’t”

            Yasmin:                      “Yes I do.”

            Nantucket Man:         “The Upper East Side is God’s country except for all of the BLANKS that live there.”

     Yasmin was speechless.  She looked at me for help but I didn’t know what to say.            

            Nantucket Man:         “I pay a sickening amount of taxes to live there and for what?  Every weekend there is a BLANK or a BLANK parade so of course I can’t ride my bike on my usual route! Those people don’t pay taxes! I should be able to ride my fucking bike whenever I want.  I’m going to move to Texas!”

     Yasmin looked at me in disbelief as I sat there with my hand over my face.  The fowl things that were coming out of this proper man’s mouth surprised the crap out of me.  He was the most offensive person I have ever met! I didn’t know what to do so I just sat there quietly, like an idiot, while Yasmin tried to carry on a conversation.

            Yasmin:                      “My family has property in Texas.”

            Nantucket Man:         “Liar!”

Yasmin stood up, grabbed her drink and looked in shock.

“I give up.  He’s an A-Hole.”  She said before she walked away.

            “Are you ok?” I asked him

            “Let’s get out of here.”  He said

            “I’m not going anywhere but you can leave if you want.”  I said

            “I can’t.  That would be rude and I don’t want to be rude.” He said which stunned me.  Did he not hear himself talk the last ten minutes?  Everything that came out of his mouth was rude!

            “Trust me, nothing is keeping you here.  You can leave.”  I said pointing to the stairs.

            “No. I’ll wait for your friend.  We could share a cab.  We’ll see if she really lives by me.”  He said

     I stood up and told him to follow me.  I found Yasmin and we left the bar together.  We got a cab and Yasmin gave the driver her address.

            “You really do live in my neighborhood.”  He said.

            “Yes I do!”  Yasmin replied in a in your face tone.  I started to giggle and hoped he didn’t notice but my shoulders gave it away.  Yasmin pinched me a few times to get me to stop but it only made me laugh a little harder.  I looked over at Nantucket Man.  He looked so sad.

            “Are you going to cry?”  I asked but he didn’t answer me.   Yasmin pinched me harder which made me burst into laughter.   He asked the cab driver to drop him off first and handed me a fistful of cash.

            “It was nice seeing you again.”  I said as he got out of the car.  He mumbled something under his breath before he shut the door.

      I felt really bad for him.  Clearly he was an angry man with a lot of unresolved issues.  I definitely did not want to be around him or anyone like him. 

            “So. What did we learn from our bizarre night?”  Yasmin asked as we walked up the six flights of stairs to her apartment.

            “I will NEVER feel intimidated around ANY man again.  I swear he was very sweet the night I met him.  I can’t believe how he fooled me!”  I said.

            “If I wasn’t there to witness his behavior I would never have believed a man like that existed.”  Yasmin said.

            “These are the guys I attract.  I’m so glad you were there so you can see that I don’t make these dates up.”  I said.

            “I’m glad I was there too but I’m afraid I’m going to run into him out in the street.”  Yasmin said laughing.

            “I wouldn’t worry about him.  I’m sure you’re the last person he ever wants to run into.  Besides, he’s going to be moving to Texas soon.”  I reminded her.  She just laughed and crossed her fingers.

Good Relationships Begin Under the Golden Arches

     Making plans with friends was a lot simpler in 1990.  Cell phones didn’t hit the market yet so text messages were unheard of.  When someone said; “I’ll call you” that meant they would actually dial my number and speak to me.  I remember pacing impatiently in my parent’s kitchen then lunging for the wall phone when it rang.  Oh how I miss that tan coil cord.

      Our live conversations were sometimes short, simple and to the point and this Friday night was no different.

            “Can you drive tonight?”  My friend asked.

            “Yup.  I’ll pick you up. Tell everyone I will be over soon.” I replied then ran out of my parent’s house and into my 1976 red Chevy Malibu.  I popped in my dance mix cassette tape and was off to hang out with my friends.

     My friends and I weren’t part of the popular crowd in high school and that didn’t change the year after we graduated.  We might have not been the cool kids but that didn’t change the fact that we were on a mission that night; we needed to find boyfriends.  We didn’t have Facebook or Twitter so in order to “chat” with boys we had to physically leave our homes and ignore them in person.

     After I picked up my girlfriends, we headed to where the boys were and that was McDonald’s on South Main Street.  We jammed to Regina’s “Baby Love” and talked about the boys we hoped to see. I had a good feeling about that night. I had my eye on Bill for a while and word on the street was that he broke up with his girlfriend.  I was thrilled!  I drove by him (1990’s version of stalking) in the McDonald’s parking lot every weekend for over a month. One weekend he even talked to me.  Ok, so he asked me to pass him napkins because I was standing in front of the dispenser but that still counts!  If I didn’t have to be home by 10:30pm, I’m sure we would have talked to me longer.

     I know what you’re thinking; “Your curfew was 10:30pm?”  The answer to that question is yes. Let me explain, my parents are your typical strict Italian parents.  There were and still are many benefits of being a daughter to Italian immigrants. Of course, in 1990 I didn’t recognize these benefits.  Back then I just focused on the fact that I wasn’t allowed to date all through high school and going away to college was not an option.  You heard me right.  Moving out of my parent’s home before my wedding day was more than frowned upon, it simply was not allowed.  I was a nineteen-year-old girl with over protective parents (and over protective male cousins but I’m saving that for another story) and going to Community College.  I was such a catch.

   I drove through the parking lot about a million times this particular Friday night before I parked my car.  My friends and I reapplied our makeup and mentally prepared for the intimidating walk through the groups of boys and girls.  I spotted Bill standing by the restaurant door and asked my friends to act cool, whatever that meant, when we pass him.  They promised that they would. 

            “There she is!”  I heard a boy yell out as the other boys whistled and teased.

            “Go up to her!”  Said another boy.  It sounded like they were referring to us but I wasn’t sure.  We didn’t turn around to see who they were talking about incase it wasn’t us.  Last thing we wanted to do was turn around to find out they were cat calling another group of girls.  That would have been social suicide so we talked among ourselves as we walked into McDonald’s.

     Bill walked in right after we did and stood behind us in line.  He cleared his throat a few times and spoke loudly with his friends. 

“What is she ordering?”  His friend asked out loud. 

"I don't know."  Bill replied.

“Why don’t you ask her?”  Another friend suggested.

“Hey!  What are ordering?”  Bill asked.  There was no doubt that he was talking to me but I was paralyzed with fear so I ignored him, naturally.   

     My friends and I walked over to a booth to eat our cheeseburgers, fries and chicken nuggets.   

“Why did you ignore him?”  My friend asked under her breath.

“I have no idea.”  I replied then squeezed ketchup on my cheeseburger wrapper.

     Bill walked up to us and asked if he could join us. I felt my face turn red and I wanted to say yes but for some reason, I couldn’t get the words from my brain to my mouth.  He stood in front of us, holding his tray of food, waiting for my response. 

“Say something.”  My friend said then pinched me.

     I still couldn’t talk.  All I could do was shake my head yes, which I did.  My friends moved over so he could sit next to me.  That was it; we were inseparable for the next few years.

    The best thing about Bill was that understood how strict my parents were.  He respected my parents and made sure not to do anything to upset them. I was always home on time, which my parents liked, and Bill talked to my father about gardening, which I liked.

    

     We did the typical dating things; we went to theme parks, county fairs, movies and out to dinner.  Our group of friends also understood my dating restrictions.  It upset me when I had to go home early every time we went out but they never made me feel like a loser.  I tried to have as much fun as I could with the limited time I had.  Eventually, my curfew changed to midnight.

     I was never a big drinker mostly because I was afraid to go home drunk.   I wasn’t sure how my parents would handle a hung-over daughter and I was not about to test it.  Bill, on the other hand, enjoyed drinking and has his share of drunken stories. He was amusing at times but being the sober one in a group of drunks wasn’t always that much fun.  Don’t get me wrong; I had my share of purple passion but my party ended earlier than the rest of my friends because I needed to get home.   

            “What will happen if you get home a little late?”  Bill asked one night

            “I don’t want to find out.”  I replied.

            “Ok, how about I promise to get you home on time, like I always do, if you promise to get drunk and have fun?”  He asked.

“Are you implying that I’m not fun?”  I asked sadly.

“Nope, not at all.  I just think you should get drunk just for tonight.”  He said before introducing me to Gold Scholgger.

     I wasn’t sure if I was ready to abandon my favorite purple color cocktail for a gold-flaked beverage.  However, the sparkles that came from the shot glass did look appealing so I took a shot.   It burned the back of my throat but after the third shot, and my throat and the rest of my body became numb so I kept drinking. 

  I don’t know how many shots I did nor do I have any recollection of how the rest of the night went. I do remember Bill asking me to stop vomiting in the parking lot. 

    

“I would if I could.”  I slurred back to him before getting into his car.  

    

     I was so annoying the whole ride home.  I vaguely remember praying out loud because I truly thought I was dying.  If I didn’t drop dead in his car, I knew my parents were going to kill me when I got home. Either way, I was convinced I was a goner that night.  My prayers intensified the closer we got to my home and I became more annoying.

“Will you please just shut up?”  Bill said a few times which only made me cry and pray louder.

   He somehow managed to get to my house before my curfew.

  “You’re home.  Get out.”  He said leaning over my seat to open the door from the inside.  I wanted Bill to walk me in my house because I really needed his help. 

“No way! Your father will kill me if he knew that I got you drunk.” He said then gently pushed me out of his parked car. 

“Please, just get out.  I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”  He pleaded still trying to get me out of his car, quietly.

     I mentally wanted to get out of his car on my own but I physically couldn’t do it. 

“Look the main lights are off, my parents are sleeping.”  I pointed out to him as my last attempt to get help from him. 

“Fine, I’ll help you.  Promise me you’ll be quite.”  He pleaded then and walked over to my side of the car and opened the door.  I poured out of his front seat and Bill collected me off my parent’s sidewalk.  We walked slowly through my parents front lawn.  When we got to the door, I looked at him and said, “Oh my God, I’m going to get sick!”  And started to cry again.

“Please, please, please, please stop crying and wait until I leave before you throw up.”  He begged.

“I can’t!”  I whispered loudly.

“Just walk me down the street.  I’ll throw up in the bushes.”  I continued in what I thought was a softer whisper while tugging on his jacket.

“Are you crazy? No way! I've got to get out of here and fast!”  He said then opened the front door with my key.

    I looked in my parent’s dark living room and then at Bill. 

“I’m so sorry.  It was nice knowing you.”  I said then proceeded to vomit violently all over my parent’s tiled living room floor.  Bill looked at me then at the vomit. 

“I’m so sorry it had to end this way.”  He said then got the hell out of there.   

Part of me couldn’t believe that he left me but a bigger part of me wish he took me with him.

I heard my parents jump out of their bed and running down the hallway.

“TAKE ME WITH YOU!”  I shouted out the front door but it was too late.  He skidded off in his Camaro and left me standing in my own vomit with my confused parents.  

     I tried to tell my parents that I had food poisoning but the gold flakes and the smell of cinnamon made it an incredible excuse. 

            “You’re drunk.”  My mother said and helped me to my room.  She continued to lecture me on the dangers of alcohol and my father joined in.  They scolded me days after the incident and I promised to never drink again.

A week or so later, Bill reappeared.  He capitalized on the situation and told my parents that he tried to stop me from drinking. 

            “What are you doing?”  I asked him after he took my parent's side in front of me.  I couldn't believe he threw me under the bus like that!

            “Agreeing with your parents.  They’ll love me, watch.”  He said and it worked.

        

     Bill and I dated for about four years. Like I said, things were simpler in 1990.

Too Good To Be True

   I stepped over a pile of clothing that sat in the middle of my bedroom floor.  My 4inch heel got caught on a sweater so I reached over to my dresser to stop my fall.  I leaned down towards my feet to pull off my stilettos.  I admired them for a few minutes before closing my eyes to fight back the tears. 

     

     I pulled open a drawer in search for my oversized Tee shirt and shorts.  I couldn’t wait to put on my security outfit and stop sucking in my stomach.  I changed into my frumpy outfit and threw my “good” jeans on top of the dresser then headed into the bathroom. 

   

     I gazed at my reflection in the mirror above my bathroom sink.  I pulled my hair back into a lazy ponytail and turned on the faucet.  I ran my fingers under the warm water while sadness overcame me.  This wasn’t the first time a guy cancelled a date but this is the first time it hurt this badly.  I thought he was just as excited to see me as I was about seeing him.  He told me he couldn’t wait to see me.  He told me he had something special planned.  I trusted him. 

     

     We met at a cocktail party on a cool spring night.  He was beautiful.  His deep blue eyes sparkled when he spoke and his warm smile captivated me.  He complimented my black dress and I thanked him.  He commented on my drink and I commented on his.  He didn’t leave my side while we were at the party and I was glad that he didn’t.  We exchanged phone numbers at the end of the night and he called the next day to invite me to dinner but I wasn’t available.  He called three days later and asked if we could meet for a drink but I couldn’t.  He called a week later and asked to meet me for coffee.  I accepted. 

    

     A few weeks later I found myself staring at him from across a candle lit table in an empty restaurant.  We talked about the day we met for coffee and he confessed that he was nervous.  We talked about a movie we saw and he told me he was intrigued by the way I analyzed the true meaning of the story line.  We talked about the drive we took down the shore for fried clams and he said he loved the way I ate. I laughed out loud and asked if I shared because I couldn’t remember if I did.  He didn’t answer my question instead he said he loved my smile and that my laugh was infectious. I blushed and thanked him.

“You looked stunning the night we met.  I loved your red dress.”  He said confidently after the waiter poured wine into our glasses.   I waited for him to say he was joking but he didn’t.

                  “I wore a black dress.”  I said correcting him. I wondered how someone as observant as he seemed to be make such a mistake.   My gut told me leave but his charisma enticed me to stay. 

      A month later he introduced me to his friends and I introduced him to mine.  “Don’t we make a great couple?”  He asked each time an introduction was made.  His friends agreed that we did. My friends were suspicious of him.

       

     He was perfect.  He said my happiness was his priority and he showed me every day.  He always called when he said he would and never made promises that he couldn’t keep.  Before I knew it, our dates were assumed and every date was spectacular.

“I want to take you to restaurant in New York that I think you’ll love.”  He said one night over another romantic dinner in my favorite restaurant.

“I also want to take you to Italy and spend time in Brazil with you.  I think you’ll love Brazil.”  He continued and I was ready to go.

“Wow, you have big plans for us.”  I said smiling.

            “You have no idea.  I can picture our future and it is picture-perfect.”  He said then leaned in to kiss me.   It was all too much too fast but I didn’t care, I liked the attention.

     

     He praised me everyday.  He commented on how strong our relationship was and how lucky he was to have met me.  He said he never felt a connection as strong as ours before in his life.  He said he loved me in month three.  I told him I loved him too but thought it was too soon.

      

     Things changed in month four.  His phone calls lessened and his schedule became more complex.  Our weekends together were cut short and our weeknight dates became sporadic.  I knew what he was doing but I didn’t want to face it. I wasn’t ready to lose my perfect relationship.  I analyzed every word he said and his reaction to what I said.  I studied each head nod and eye roll and later scrutinized the conversation that surrounded each action. I made an effort to only say what I thought he wanted to hear and became available to him when it was inconvenient for me to prolong the inevitable.

     I rarely left my phone behind in month four.  When I missed his call I would call him back within minutes but my calls always went to his full voicemail. 

“It would be easier if we just text each other.”  He suggested after an argument.

“What do you mean by easier?”  I asked but his explanation was nonsensical.

      

     It was difficult but I communicated with him only by text messages.  He replied hours or even days later and it broke my heart.  I tried to talk to him about my feelings but he said I was being crazy.  I wasn’t crazy.  I was hurt. I had an unbelievable urge to drive to his house and beg him for answers but I was better than that.  He was fading away and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

“Ok, I understand.  When can we see each other again?”  I heard my voice ask after he cancelled a Thursday night date.

“Saturday.  It’s only two days away!  I’ll plan something special.” He said which gave me a glimmer of hope.

     “What do you mean by special?”  I asked.

     “It’s a surprise.”  He said then told me he loved me.

     

     Tonight is Saturday and I feared that this would be our last night together.  He needed to see the person he fell in love with only weeks earlier.  He needed to remember how unique our connection was. I carefully applied my makeup, styled my hair and put on the outfit I purchased the night before. I eagerly ran down my stairs then walked franticly around my living room hearing my heels click with every step.  My dog Emma starred at me and then at my shoes as I looked for her leash.

    I hurried passed my coffee table and grabbed my phone.  I got Emma ready for her last walk of the night then checked the time.  It was 7:53pm.  He was going to be here at 8pm.  I had minutes to pull myself together.    

    While Emma looked for the ideal spot, I scrolled through my phone.  There were multiple texts from him:

     Message number one, time 7:04pm:  “I’m running late, actually, it’s not looking good.  I’m not cancelling, just saying I won’t be on time.”   I felt a pit in my stomach.

     Message number two, time 7:15pm:  “Jumping in the shower.  I can’t wait to see you again.  Hope you’re wearing that red dress you wore the night we met.” 

    “It was black.”  I said softly to myself and took in a deep breath.  There was still hope for tonight. 

     Text message number three time 7:39pm: “I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it. I really want to see you but something came up.  Please understand.  I’m so into you.” 

    

     I felt the air escaping my lungs as his words started to sink in.  Our date is off.  The pit in my stomach developed into a lump in my throat.

     Text message number four, time 7:47pm:  “I just wanted to make sure you got my texts.  I am so sorry.  I miss you and promise to make it up to you. Please let me know you got this.” 

   

     I stood still in my yard contemplating whether or not to reply while Emma chased leaves.  If I did reply, would it change the fact that he wasn’t coming? I desperately wanted to know the reason why he cancelled but I was afraid to ask.  Not because I couldn’t handle the truth, I just knew that I wouldn’t get it.  I ran hundreds of imaginable scenarios in my head and finally realized that the reason was not important.  I’m simply not a priority to him anymore and he has moved onto someone else who is.

   

    I received his last text message at 8:03pm:  “Hey, I know you’re upset so you don’t have to reply.  Actually, I won’t be able to respond if you do.  I know you understand.”  

     

    I didn’t understand.  The excitement of seeing him and the anticipation of our special night came to an end.  I felt defeated and exhausted. 

   I pulled the barely worn contacts from my eyes and tossed them into the wastebasket.  I cupped my hands under the running water and collected enough to splash onto my face.  I pulled my wet hands away and observed the array of colors settling into the creases of my hands and then into my sink leaving an oily film.  I gently removed the black mascara from under my eyes and scrubbed my face clean.  I lifted my head from the sink and came face to face with my reflection again.  I stared at my puffy red skin behind the water droplets and the memories our entire relationship ran through my head.  The fact that our relationship was over killed me.

    

    I splashed one last handful of water on my face and turned off the faucet.   The soft towel on my freshly cleaned face comforted me a bit.   I folded the towel and rested it on the side of the sink then walked out of my bathroom.  I slipped into bed with Emma and turned on the TV.  I pulled the sheets over my shoulder as I curled into the fetal position.  I was content for a few minutes.  I moved to reposition myself under the covers and the scent from my perfume crept into my nose. The pretty aroma reminded that I was supposed to be on a special date tonight and not home alone.  I cried myself to sleep.

     

    He eventually did fade away and I’m sure he was glad I accepted his actions quietly.  I thought about fighting for the survival of our relationship but I didn’t.  I learned a long time ago that there is no point in chasing after a man who doesn’t want to be chased.  

The Ambiguous Suitor

“Do you like Jazz music?”  He asked.

“I do.” I replied and it wasn’t a lie.

“The Litchfield Jazz Festival is going on this weekend.  Would you like to go?”  He asked.  My heart raced with excitement but I didn’t want him to know it.

“Sure.  It sounds like fun.”  I replied calmly.

“Great! I’ll pick you up in a hour.”

“In an hour?” I asked in a panic.

“Yeah, in an hour. Do you have any snacks?”  He asked while my mind raced.  I couldn’t be ready in an hour! It takes more than an hour to get ready for a date!  I immediately ran upstairs and dove into my closet.

     I noticed that my toes were in desperate need of a pedicure but there was no time for that. I took a step back from my closet in disgust.  I didn’t have anything to wear but a trip to the mall was out of the question so I continued to search for the perfect outfit. I then remembered that there was a lot of plucking and shaving that needed to get done! I had to get off the phone and fast if I was going to be ready for this date!

“Snacks, do you have any?  We could stop at the deli if you don’t.”  He suggested as I desperately pulled a few dresses out of my closet.

“The deli is a good idea.  I’ll see you in an hour.”  I said before I hung up and ran into the bathroom.

     I met this guy the usual way; he hit on me in a bar.  We exchanged numbers and went out a few times but I couldn’t tell if he liked me.  He was tall, blond and gorgeous not to mention very charming but I couldn’t tell if he liked me liked me. We met for lunch a few times and I couldn’t read him. Our dinner dates weren’t earth shattering.  They weren’t boring just not overly stimulating.  I wasn’t sure if he wanted to date me or just be my friend whatever his intentions were, I started to really like him.

    We met for drinks after work one day and he walked me to my car at the end of the night like he has done many times before.  This time though, he leaned in and gave me a kiss goodbye.  I was surprised and relieved; a friend would not have kissed me that way.  I assumed he wanted to date me and I was ok with that!

   We got together a few nights after the big kiss night.  I tried to flirt with him but he didn’t bite.  I thought he wasn’t into me and that maybe he was drunk when he kissed me the other night or worse; maybe he thought I was a bad kisser! I drove away that night thinking I would never hear from him again but I was wrong.  We had dinner a few more times and sometimes he kissed me goodnight and sometimes he didn’t.  It was very confusing so I stopped trying to figure it out.

   When he called me this Saturday to invite me to the Jazz Festival, I was pleasantly surprised.  I was determined to figure out what type of relationship he wanted.  I was fine with just being friends but I would have preferred to be his girlfriend.

     He showed up exactly one hour after our telephone conversation and I was ready.  He walked into my condo, gave me a big hug and a make out session commenced.  I felt like a teenager making out for the first time!  I pulled away before things we got carried away and walked to my storage closet.  I grabbed a picnic basket and a blanket.  I also took a bottle of wine from my wine cellar (AKA my kitchen counter) and we were off.

     We stopped at the local deli and packed my basket with sandwiches, fruit and more wine. 

 “This is going to be a good day.”  He said then gave me a kiss on my cheek.

“I think it will be too.”  I replied.  It looked like my Ambiguous Suitor was coming around.

     The hour ride to Litchfield went very well.  We laughed a lot and he put his hand on my leg while he drove.  All good signs!

     We found a parking spot quickly.  He carried the picnic basket and I carried a blanket, it was the least I can do. 

            “Let’s get as close to the stage as possible.”  He suggested as he lead the way.

    We walked by so many couples sitting on blankets and drinking wine.  It may have been early afternoon but there was a lot of romance in the air.  I paid attention to every move The Ambiguous Suitor made and listened to every word he said.  I needed to make sure our make out session wasn't just a fluke. 

            “How’s this spot?”  He asked pointing to a grassy area.

            “Perfect.”  I said rolling the blanket out.

   

     We made ourselves comfortable before pouring wine into the wine glasses and he kissed me again!  He rubbed my back a few times and brushed my hair away from my eyes.  I thought he was adorable and treated me so nicely.

     He asked if I was enjoying myself as he handed me the other half of his sandwich.  I told him I was and handed him a napkin.  I made a comment about the weather and how nice it was to see so many happy couples around us.  Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

            “Wait a minute. This is kinda feeling like a date.  I want to make sure you know that we are NOT on a date.”  He said which surprised me.

     I looked down at the picnic basket, the two partially filled wine glasses and my freshly shaved legs.  It looked like we were on a date to me.

           

“I’m sorry.  I’m confused.  We are NOT on a date?”  I asked.

            “Ah, no we are not.”  He replied.

            “I’m sorry but I’m confused.  What is going on then?” I asked.  I was so embarrassed.  How could I have misunderstood his actions?

            “I just thought you would like to spend a nice day outdoors.”  He said then stood up.

            “I’ll be right back.”  He said before he walked away.

     So, there I was sitting alone on a blanket, surrounded by hundreds of couples snuggling with each other. I did what any other upset single girl would have done in my shoes, I poured myself another glass of wine then opened the other bottle.  I really wanted to cry but decided to try to eat everything in the basket instead.

     Thirty minutes went by and he wasn’t back.  I looked around the crowded field but I couldn’t find him.  For a minute I worried that he left me there.  I franticly looked for his keys on the blanket and was relieved when I found them.  I slipped the keys into my purse and hoped that he would return soon.

     Another thirty minutes went by and he was still missing.  I needed to use the restroom so I got up and headed towards the concrete building.  I’m not going to lie; I was feeling the wine and the sun beating on me didn’t help my intoxicated condition. I staggered into the bathroom then took my time walking back to our spot.  I wanted him to know how it felt to be left alone but he was not there.  I couldn’t believe that he abandoned me!  The fact the “we were NOT on a date” was irrelevant.  He should not have left me at alone at this festival. I desperately wanted to go home.  Part of me wanted to leave him there, I did have the keys but I decided to look for him instead.

     It took a while but I found him, playing Frisbee with a group of girls.  I was furious! He left me alone for over an hour so he could frolic with a group of girls!

            “Hey! What are you doing?”  I yelled.

            “Playing Frisbee.  Are you having fun?”  He asked still tossing the plastic disk.

            “No! I am not having fun.  I want to go home and I want to go home now!”  I shouted.

            “What? Why?  I’m not ready to leave yet.”  He said and the girls giggled. 
     I wanted to fight every girl there.  He was making me look like a fool and I did not like that at all.  I snapped.

     I’m not sure what I said exactly but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t shy with the profanity.  I know I wasn’t acting lady like but I didn’t care at this point.  I was livid.

     He didn’t stop playing and it irritated me.  I ran in the middle of the game, jumped up and grabbed the Frisbee midair.  I struggled to snap it in half but I couldn’t so I tried to fling it in the woods.  I said, “try” because I’m a bad Frisbee thrower, it landed next to my feet.   It wasn’t my proudest moment in life.

     He said his goodbyes to the girls and angrily walked back to the blanket with me.  We collected our things and then marched to his car.  We exchanged a few heated words but then I stopped talking.  I gave up on trying to get him to see my side.  He clearly didn’t understand why I was upset and couldn’t wait to drop me off. 

     Like my relationship with The Ambiguous Suitor the lesson learned from this experience is still unclear.  The only true moral I could come up with is not to drink red wine in the sun.  Next time I’ll pack a cooler with beers.