I could have blown it in the final text. As I neared Tim’s place for our second date, I typed, “See you shorty.” Luckily I caught the error and added an essential ‘l’ to amend things to “See you shortly.” Perhaps soon is a safer word.
And, yes, I did get lucky. Oh, not like that, you gutter
thinker. I was simply fortunate to have a lovely seven-hour date. Still, got
your mind in the gutter? I’ll tell you it ended with some kissing and me
getting literally weak in the knees. That’s always the sign that I’m into something good. (Just so you know, there will be no more kissing and
telling from me in the future should more dates occur. I’ve never been that
kind of guy.)
Heck, there were good signs prior to the shorty-averted
text. On the ferry ride over, I texted to see which of my suggestions from
earlier in the week seemed appealing: farmers’ market with his dog joining us
or a stroll on Granville Island. His response: “How about both?” Plus a smiley face.
Forget the TV
show; this is the ultimate glee.
Texts, however, do not compare to face-to-face. There is no
opportunity to edit before sending, no chance to pause for thirty seconds to
come up with a witty reply. How could I keep this man interested through
something so elusive as a second date?
As the date progressed from farmers’ market to long seawall
walk to Granville Island to False Creek mini-ferry to lunch, I kept bracing for
goodbye. That’s the old lack of confidence bubbling up. Surely, he’s done. Lost interest. Come to his senses. I would go from
Happy to Bashful as I anticipated The End. And yet on we’d go. Still the doubt
lingered. Maybe he’s feeling guilty that
I keep missing the next ferry sailing. Canadians can be incredibly polite.
During our late lunch, things deepened. The conversation went
from interesting information sharing to a discussion of values, past mistakes
and disappointments along with new hopes. It was an intimate conversation that
I sensed even the wait staff picked up on. Something was truly clicking. We
were vulnerable and the attraction intensified. Something good could become
something great.
There is a catch. Always seems to be. As we finally stood at
my car, we talked of the next date. Tim said, “You’re off to Seattle next
weekend, right?” Ah, yes. But that was only partially correct. I’d mentioned
that I am taking the train there, but hadn’t mentioned that was only the first
leg of my trip. From Seattle, I fly to L.A. and then to Ottawa. I am gone for
the next six weeks. I’ve been itching to get away for months. When I’d booked
my flights, there was nothing for me here. I wanted to spend every moment of my
summer vacation somewhere else. It never dawned on me that Tim would become a
possibility.
And so another factor of time gets added to the mix. I know
the If it’s meant to be line and,
really, six weeks is a mere blip in the long run (should there be a long run).
Nonetheless, it is unfortunate. No one wants that kind of gap between early dates.
It is what it is.
For now, I have a second date to savor. That’s a glorious
thing.
