So, this is complicated.
I met a guy while I was at my work conference. Of course I
did, right? I am always meeting guys and inevitably they don’t work out and I
am left questioning God’s plan for my love life and crying about my bad
luck…all over a boy that turned out to be a bullet dodged.
I am hoping that Andy will be different.
I met Andy on my second day in Orlando while I was doing karaoke and he
seemed nice, but I figured that he was married. He had that married look about
him (you know the one) that, and the fact that 99.9%of the men in my field are
married. I just went on with my night and saw him at breakfast and our first
session. He was sitting alone when I walked into my first session and I called
him over in my Lainie way (proclaiming loudly that he should join us) and he
had no choice but to plop down next to me.
He was in both sessions with me that day and he seemed cool,
laughed at all of my cheese ball jokes and kept paying me compliments and he
kept calling me “24” like that was my name. And he made it sound accusatory
like I stole the number. I was confused by this, but whatever.
Throughout the day, I kept thinking he was awesome (and
attractive) and we definitely had a connection, but this guy looked super
married and he didn’t have a ring (I checked-single girls always check).
We had great day although there were times when he would look
like something was getting him down, but more than that, it was like his mask
would slip every so often and he would have to readjust. All I could do was pray for him.
When we went to dinner as a group later that night we made
conversation to and from the restaurant and that was when he told me about his
recent divorce. Like a month ago recent.
See? I knew he had that married look about him!
Once again, I've mistaken my feeling an actual connection with
my uncanny ability to build rapport with just about anyone combined with his
being attractive. I have been told that I am just one of those people that
others feel instantly comfortable with, as evidenced by the fact I now know the
main details surrounding his divorce.
I had to keep reminding myself about this every time I felt
we had an actual connection, especially when he exhibited relief at the fact I
was in fact 32 and not 24. Which helped me understand the odd nickname, but
confused me when he said “32 is much better for me. So much better that 24.”
I just continued on
with whatever story I was telling and tried not to feel awkward (or blush) because of his comment that I am
sure everyone heard. The subject was changed and someone asked how long I’ve
been in Terre Haute
and I replied “15 months.” They inquired about what it was that made me move
here from the city and I gave my generic answer that God wanted me in Terre
Haute and circumstances presented themselves that made me ready for something
new,
Yea, they could tell there was more to the story, so we kept
talking, and I am not sure how it came up, but Ralph came up (master diggers
they are) and they asked how long he’s been in the seminary and I replied “15
months.”
That moment of
awkwardness was short-lived because the most awesome thing happened.
We saw him. The Dude!
I mean, it wasn’t really Jeff Bridges, but it might as well
have been. This guy, without even trying, made me want to pay for his rug!
Instead, I bought him a White Russian.
I ordered it, walked up to him and said “Excuse me, Mr.
Lebowski. Here’s your White Russian,” smiled and walked away.
It was pretty awesome if I do say so myself.
He laughed, told me that had never happened to him before
though plenty of people have commented on how much he looks like The Dude. He
told me he would never forget it and how cool it was and then Andy took our picture.
Our night pretty much kept being awesome after that. I was
just being me, not worried about how intimidating I seem to some guys or trying
not to seem too much like one of the guys. I was just Lainie.
And Andy wasn’t going anywhere. He kept making comments
about how awesome I was which I am used to…not in a conceited way, but in a way
that I can keep up with boys on just about anything and it is pretty awesome.
Most guys’ awe ends there and they deem me a “good friend” much to my chagrin.
Even though I was really liking Andy, he was not in a place to start dating
anyone and I just can’t keep putting myself in the position to get my heart
broken.
I kept reminding myself of this and saying that we are just
friends and once this conference is over I won’t have to talk to him anymore or
see him…until he kept blatantly suggesting that I come to Ohio to see him and
making comments about how perfect I was for him.
That part was hard.
Here he was this incredibly attractive guy that wasn’t
afraid of my Lainie-ness and if I am not mistaken, it endeared me to him.
He seemed like the perfect guy for me too, but the timing
was off.
When we said goodnight, he stalled making small talk then
stating how beautiful my eyes are and how he was getting lost in them (pretty
sure I got butterflies). I felt the heat rush to my checks because I could not
believe how forward he was being and how there was no way he was ready to have
this conversation with anyone. Let alone me.
I tried to say goodnight and he insisted on walking me to my
elevator stating the lobby was “unsafe.” (Yep, butterflies)
He ended up riding to my floor with me and I didn’t know what to expect and we’d
been drinking so I was kind of nervous
and all I knew was that I didn’t want anything to happen…maybe. All I did know
for sure was that I have plenty of room in my heart for love and new friends,
but I don’t think my heart could take it if I was a rebound. I’m better than that
and so is he.
He was the right guy at the wrong time.
And if I have learned anything from all the books I have
read on dating and relationships is that the right guy won’t come at the wrong
time.
So I stepped out of the elevator and firmly said good night
and said I would see him the next day.
As the elevator door closed, I wanted to tell him to drink
water before he goes to bed (I know, it’s the big sister in me), so I texted it
to him and went to bed.
I knew the next day would be different, he would be sober
and he would have come to his senses.
No such luck.
It wasn’t until dinner time that I saw him again, and when
he saw me, he had the weirdest look on his face. It was like he'd seen his first Trans Am, and I had no idea what brought it on, but whatever.
We had dinner and he kept pushing food on me, I made a crack
about him being an Italian grandma and he told me he was part Italian. Then I
was all, “Why are you insisting I eat? Do you not think I am OK? Are you trying
to take care of me?”
And he said “Kind of like you tried to take care of me with
that text last night?” And he gave me the same look from earlier in the
evening. This time, I took it in with a stomach full of butterflies.
We talked about how the day went, he asked me about lunch
with Sister Felicia and I told him it was good to see her and that she gave me homework. He already knew about
Ralph so I told him she told me that I need to talk to him so that we both
could get closure.
Over the course of time (you know, 24 hours), he learned my story
just like I learned his (as much as he was ready to tell) and I shared with him
theories shared by most (if not all) of our friends that he was running scared to the seminary
because he didn’t want to deal with how much he loves me. And how talking to him
will allow both of to move forward and help him be a better priest if he is
still being called to that life when the time comes.
Andy asked what would happen if Ralph decided that after we
talked, he realized he wanted to be with me, would I go back to him? I did not
hesitate when I said no. I explained that I am a very different person than I
was 15 months ago and I have been shaped by the hurt and he would have to start
from scratch.
“OK, good” is all he said with that same look in his eye.
That was probably the moment that I said “screw it” to being
cautious and gave into the fact we were attracted to each other and let myself
believe we had an actual connection.
We had a flow the rest of the night.
He was struggling with his jacket and I took it and put it
in my tote without his asking, he took my tote and carried it around. We
ordered milkshakes for dessert and swapped when we grew tired of our own. He
stayed close to me and I stayed close to him. When ever I was too far away, he
would make his way over to me and whisper in my ear “the Dude abides” and we
would laugh.
He even demanded that I come to Ohio and told me that I am going to stay
with him. I had to draw the line with that one, there is no telling what trouble
I would get myself into staying in his apartment.
At one point in the evening we were at the bar ordering
drinks and he turned to me with that look in his eye and said “You’re really
beautiful, do you know that?” I didn’t know what to say to that. The last guy
to call me beautiful was Ralph and he didn’t even mean for me to hear it.
“OK,” I said, “thank you?”
He just kept looking at me searching my face and said “You
are. You know you’re beautiful, right?” And I just stood there with what I am
sure was a combination of a blank stare and confusion.
I didn’t think I had ever been told I was beautiful before.
I mean, I have been told I was beautiful before but it is usually accompanied
by a “God made you in his image” sort of way.
Here was Andy, as bold as he could be, calling me beautiful
as if it were a fact he was daring me to dispute.
I just enjoyed it, and that silly look on his face that was
starting to make me a little bit breathless. It was then that I realized he was
looking at me like I was beautiful (or a Trans Am) and he hadn’t looked at anyone else like
that the whole conference.
I am still getting used to this whole feeling pretty thing,
so I really don’t know what to say when a guy thinks so too. Please note: I have known for a long time
about my awesomeness and waited for others to catch up, recognize and be
amazed. This legit pretty feeling has only been around for a short time.
I realize now that no matter what, I am unable to be with a
guy that doesn’t look at me like Andy does. Like I am so beautiful that he
can’t believe how blessed he is just to be looking at me. No. The man that
loves me has to look at me like that.
When we finally got around to saying goodbye, the first
thing out of his mouth was that I had to talk to Ralph like he was the one who
had given me the holy homework. And then we hesitated to say goodbye. We
stammered. His hands were on my shoulders, mine were tugging on his jacket and
zipping and unzipping it. Then we finally said goodbye and as he turned the
corner I called after him “Don’t forget to drink water!” We laughed and he was
gone.
I went to bed that night praying that Andy was OK to start
whatever he was starting with me and that he wouldn’t get home and come to
senses and realize that he wasn’t really ready for all of this or anything.
I fell asleep both worried and hopeful.
When I got up the next morning I rushed to the lobby because
I wanted to see him again because his taxi was leaving close to the same as my
shuttle and we got to say goodbye again and he insisted that he would be in
touch. He was so adamant about it and he hugged me so tight and he got in his
cab and I got on the bus.
I spent the whole trip home terrified that he would actually
call and even more terrified that he wouldn’t!
I am now officially in wait and see mode.
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