Since I gave Mr. Tinder my number, I’ve woken up to great stuff. Funny stories he thinks I might like, updates about the political debates and pictures of him out hiking somewhere wonderful. Daily good morning wishes, frosted with a compliment or three.
I never text him first…. or last for that matter. He responds instantly any time I do. I remember now how to play all these dumb games and am all too aware that I’m completely in control of this situation. I don’t love that, but I’m trying to.
He takes a walk every day just to enjoy the ability and beautiful view. He’s really, really nice. The kind of bone-deep nice that I am. The kind of nice that bores the hell out of me, if I’m going to be honest. I’m trying really hard to want this for myself, in hopes I’ve finally learned something from all the hard lessons I’ve waded through.
Part of me is sad at how attentive and interested he is, because it illuminates how little I’ve ever gotten in return from the man I’ve been pining for.
Mr. Tinder texts me early and often.
T- Any exciting plans this weekend?
J- Just a hot date on Saturday night.
T- I can’t wait…. but that’s it? That can’t be it. I’ve only “known” you a couple days and I know that can’t be right.
J- Well….I’m canning marinara and pears, too. Want to learn to can?
T- I’d love to actually. I’d may only be in your way but I’m a quick learner and I can reach all the stuff up high.
Yikes. I love a pretty face and he’s cute. I am particularly struck down by a certain man’s devastating smile… but intention slays me more than anything. I’ve spent a year begging for 5 minutes to spoil a man who could barely acknowledge me, so it’s refreshing as hell to be pursued intently by an interested charmer of a man with all of his shit together.
A man with a plan is the man for me. Not that I have a huge interest in teaching him to can vegetables, I’m more stunned by the realization that he wants to hang out with me. I’m embarrassed by how foreign that feels.
Tonight is our first date. He asked me if I’d be uncomfortable if he brought me flowers. I said no and he asked for a list of my favorites.
Now here’s where I decide if I’m going to be a spoiled brat or a doormat. I can tell him I love sterling roses. They’re lavender and $12 a dozen at the grocery store. I LOVE them. Or I can tell him the truth. I love tuberose and gardenias. They’re my favorites. They’d cost him over $100 if he could get them at all, and I have one blooming in my kitchen right now.
So I tell him roses… and make it easy.
Old habits die hard…
He pays attention to what I say and asked how the Dumpling was. She’s been sick all day and I’ve been unavailable, which can bring out the worst in men, too. He’s been cool.
Ignoring the similarities between him and he who shall not be named is impossible. It’s why I swiped right and impossible to ignore if you met them side by side. They look related, but the similarities stop there. Mr. Tinder is a checklist of what I want in a man. I may have chosen him because he looks like the man I can’t get over, but I think I may have stumbled across a boyfriend.
He’s already asked for dates #2 & #3.
T- Will you have ice cream with me on Sunday afternoon?
J- Uhh… that’s awfully brave? What if it goes terribly and we have another date to get through?
T- No worries, I like ice cream enough that it’s still worth it.
J- I do love their coffee ice cream.
T- It’s a date then. Forgive me if I’m being too forward. What I know of you so far is amazing and I’m not going to waste an opportunity to have you in my life.
He sent me a message on his way to bed.
T- I can’t wait to have dinner with you tomorrow.
J- See you then 🙂
I’m heavy hearted but determined to get over this enormous burden. Reluctant only because I’m loyal to a fault and far too hopeful when it comes to believing in happily ever after.
As much as I want to read my favorite book over and over again, I’d never have found it in the first place if I hadn’t had the courage to try new things and explore different pages.
Here’s to new stories with much happier endings.