It was Saturday night at 10 pm, and I was with the man I'd sent a rejection text to a week ago. Casual, we'd agreed, which meant that he hadn't been part of my weekend plans until a few hours beforehand, when I'd decided I wanted male company.
We walked through the open gate to Discovery Park and as far as I could tell, had all 534 acres to ourselves. At 40 degrees and cloudy it was a typical January night in Seattle. I'd never been to Discovery Park after sundown, and once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw the silhouettes of bare trees against the hazy sky. We slid down a sandy bluff 150 feet to the beach. The tide was low. No one was around.
Together we searched for branches and he lit a fire. For two hours we sat on a log bundled in our jackets, drinking wine from the bottle, watching the tide come in and the ferries shuttle back and forth across Puget Sound. He talked about how his mom read him The Little Prince as a child and ignited his love of books. After his father passed away she had a few boyfriends, but none of them worked out because "she's high maintenance."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, one of them bought her a new washer, and she was upset because it was too big of a gift."
I liked his mom already.
I liked him too, more than I did the first two times we went out. We shared a core value of simplicity that I'm having a hard time finding in men... I will never be wooed with gifts, fancy meals, or explanations of an amazing corporate benefits package. Let's lay outside, drink wine, and share stories.
The sex that night and the next morning felt easy and comfortable. We stayed in bed talking until noon, and his honesty and kindness impressed me. I, of course, made a completely inappropriate comment about how if we ever had kids their curly hair would be amazing, and he didn't totally freak out because I talked about our hypothetical offspring. "Did I just mention children that we're never going to have together to a man I've been out with three times?", I mused out loud. "Yes," he said, "but you're right. That would be some crazy hair."
I know that what I need from a relationship isn't there, but when I dropped him off at his south Beacon Hill home and missed him the rest of the day, I had a smile on my face because I felt something. If love is a continuum, a little bit grew.
We walked through the open gate to Discovery Park and as far as I could tell, had all 534 acres to ourselves. At 40 degrees and cloudy it was a typical January night in Seattle. I'd never been to Discovery Park after sundown, and once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw the silhouettes of bare trees against the hazy sky. We slid down a sandy bluff 150 feet to the beach. The tide was low. No one was around.
Together we searched for branches and he lit a fire. For two hours we sat on a log bundled in our jackets, drinking wine from the bottle, watching the tide come in and the ferries shuttle back and forth across Puget Sound. He talked about how his mom read him The Little Prince as a child and ignited his love of books. After his father passed away she had a few boyfriends, but none of them worked out because "she's high maintenance."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, one of them bought her a new washer, and she was upset because it was too big of a gift."
I liked his mom already.
I liked him too, more than I did the first two times we went out. We shared a core value of simplicity that I'm having a hard time finding in men... I will never be wooed with gifts, fancy meals, or explanations of an amazing corporate benefits package. Let's lay outside, drink wine, and share stories.
The sex that night and the next morning felt easy and comfortable. We stayed in bed talking until noon, and his honesty and kindness impressed me. I, of course, made a completely inappropriate comment about how if we ever had kids their curly hair would be amazing, and he didn't totally freak out because I talked about our hypothetical offspring. "Did I just mention children that we're never going to have together to a man I've been out with three times?", I mused out loud. "Yes," he said, "but you're right. That would be some crazy hair."
I know that what I need from a relationship isn't there, but when I dropped him off at his south Beacon Hill home and missed him the rest of the day, I had a smile on my face because I felt something. If love is a continuum, a little bit grew.
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