23 May 2016

Feeling Reckless & Loving It

You're not going to approve. I'm just telling you right now. You're going to bury your face in your hands and sigh, deep from within your soul, at how disappointed you are in me.

I don't care.

Shortly after my stint on OkCupid, which was, again, full of nothing but regrets, Mr. Alumni asked me out for drinks. I put him off, claiming business and trying to make up my mind if I should ignore my gut instinct and give him a chance anyway. And then he asked me out a second and third time and as much as I admire persistence, I finally turned him away.

And then I re-downloaded Tinder. Which convinced me that I am slowly becoming asexual because I was not attracted to ANYONE in that bottomless pit of men.

So then I downloaded Bumble and was reassured that I am, in fact, a sexual being because there were lots of men on there whom I found attractive. Thank God.

Of course, of the numerous men I found attractive, several did not earn a swipe-right based on misogynistic or otherwise douche-y "About Me" sections. Then of course there were the ones who actually replied to my messages (as a refresher, Bumble is very similar to Tinder in structure, but requires the ladies to message first or the match expires in 24 hrs.). Of the ones who did respond, one or two got deleted for making inappropriate comments about my being a flight attendant ("So do rich people feel entitled to smack your butt?" "Wow. Bye." Delete button.) And of course, of the ones who made it past that point, so far exactly one has actually invited me on a date. But I'm leaving today to go on vacation, so I told him it would have to wait until I get back. He seems nice enough. We'll see. He owns two chocolate labradors which means he can't suck at life too much.

But prior to matching with Mr. Dog-Lover on Bumble, I was starting to feel a little reckless. And I was trying very hard to be sensible. Trying so hard, in fact, that I messaged Mr. Suburb and struck up a conversation with him that lasted for a couple of days.

(Yes, I know. I haven't gotten to the part you're not going to approve of yet. Just bear with me. We'll get there.)

That conversation was nice, but ended yet again with him not actually asking me out. (To be fair, he just left for a hunting trip with his Stepdad.) Which left me feeling still more frustrated and still more reckless.

I actually ran into Mei & David on Saturday while I was out having an iced coffee and enjoying the beautiful weather with an old sorority sister. I introduced them and added "they were the ones that introduced me to the guy from Wheaton I was telling you about."

Hint hint, Mr. Suburb. I have no doubt that it will get back to him that I was telling a friend about him. I even plowed ahead boldly when David lit up and wanted to know what I'd been saying about Suburb. "Just that I think he's nice but he still hasn't kept his promise to ask me out to dinner, darn it."

Mei was delighted. David wanted me to straight up tell his friend to take me to dinner, but as Mei pointed out, "No! He needs to ask her! You need to tell him to ask her!"

Which was kind of adorable. And anyway, although I doubt it will work out given the distance, I would still enjoy some quality company and a night out. I'm tired of being sensible. Being sensible has a tendency to mean you're sitting home alone on Saturday night.

Which leads me to the climax of the week. I was on a work layover in Vegas, sitting by the pool and sipping white wine. The last time I was in Vegas was the day after my first date with Mr. Charming. (Yes I heard that groan just now. Pipe down.). I was texting him while I was there about the weather being too cold by the pool, and he recommended ordering a hot toddy (which, by the way, was a great call).

So there I was. With wine in hand, full of reckless abandon and a general "What the hell?" mentality, I ignored the fact that he's saved as "Don't You Dare Text Him" in my phone and messaged him.

<<<<In Vegas--which in a weird, roundabout way made me think of you. How are you?

Let's face it, it's been a month since I've heard from him, and I haven't been able to get him off my brain. No one I've met or spoken with since then has given me the same sense of chemistry or excitement. I was fully braced for the possibility that I would get no response, and I had armed myself firmly with the knowledge that even if I did hear back, he is not looking for anything serious.

And believe it or not I heard back in less than 15 minutes.

>>>>Does that mean you just think of me as a party boy?? Haha I'm great, super busy. What about you?

Which struck a brief conversation about the fact that yes, I absolutely think of him as a party boy, and I, too, have been busy with my roommate hunt.

The conversation fizzled out as all text conversations with him do because he is generally horrible at texting, but then, much to my surprise, I heard from him the next night, at 9:00 on a Friday.

>>>>Why are you having so much trouble finding a roommate?

Thinking this was a little bizarre unless he was planning to suggest someone to me [spoiler alert: he wasn't.], I answered that most people are not looking for an August 1st move-in date yet.

>>>>Oh yea August is way far off

Yes, Charming. Yes it is, you cruddy text-er, you. I explained how early my building management was asking for notice of our renewal.

>>>>That's weird

I said nothing. You have to give me something to work with, here, Mr. Charming. Come on.

That said, I felt slightly emboldened by the fact that he had reached out again. The next afternoon, between apartment showings and while talking to Mags, I made the rashest decision yet and asked him out. (Yes, shut up! You don't approve! No one approves! I don't even approve!)

He replied quickly, explaining he had tentative plans but he wasn't sure if they were going to come through yet.

<<<<Fair enough. Let me know about your plans. I can always find someone else who's free.

And I meant it, damn it. Not necessarily a date, but certainly a friend. Less than two hours later he asked how 6:30 would work for me.

6:30 is just fine, Mr. Charming. Just fine. I suggested a bar, something I'd allowed him to choose in the past. I refused to wear my hair down. I ignored the fact that he has a bit of a weakness for high heels and wore a cute sundress with completely flat sandals instead. And I felt great.

I also have achieved a beautiful sense of abandonment when it comes to him. I didn't greet him with a kiss like I've done in the past. People who fall off the face of the earth for a month do not get greeted with a kiss.

We hopped bars a few times. At some point he made a joke about my shoes (aided of course, by the fact that he's a head taller than me and I basically have to crane my neck back to talk to him), and I informed him that if he ever manages to ask me out 24 hours in advance, I will gladly wear high heels. Those are my terms, I informed him, in spite of his whiny protest.

And I wish I could remember what he said that inspired my retort, "Listen, of the two of us, I'm not the one who fell off the map for a month."

"Oh come on, we both work in the same industry. You know what it's like."

Of course I do, Mr. Charming. I do know what it's like, which is exactly why that excuse might work on a non-aviation gal, but will only result in the stink-eye and a scoff from me.

And you know what I like about him? He took it all in stride. He took my ribbing with good humor and time will tell if any of it went to heart. We argued about politics and it was fun. (For the record, I have never used the words "politics" and "fun" in the same sentence before. Ever.) We talked about travel plans and family and a few other things, and I had a great damn time.

…and then I made another poor decision that night that I had fully intended not to make. (I'll let you fill in the blanks. I'm sure you can guess.) and started feeling pretty foolish the next day. Until that evening when I got another message from him.

So you know what? I don't care what you say. I had fun and I don't regret a second of it. I've accepted that he isn't looking for a relationship. I won't pretend I'm not going to try to change his mind, but I also won't be surprised if I can't. In the meantime I'll keep my options open. Bumble is still on my phone and the weather just turned beautiful. 'Tis the season to meet somebody who will sweep me off my feet.

Truthfully? I'm really enjoying my reckless side.

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