Your Naughty-but-Nice Neighbor
May 1st I visited a lovely man in his hotel and I spent part of the visit crying. I have never done that before, never cried on a date. (I should be more specific, since I have certainly cried on romantic-partner-real life-kinda dates, just not on a paid date.) Even almost 3 weeks later, I am finding it hard to be glib about the experience.
Now before you get upset, let me assure you the fella did nothing inappropriate or unkind in any way. For some reason, the start of the date, when we were first sitting and chatting with one another, felt very awkward to me. It isn’t automatic that the two people in this situation will ‘click’ right away, and a little awkwardness is understandable, but something else was going on here. He looked sooooo much like a man I knew . . . a man I loved . . . a man I still love. The dark, wavy hair; the beard that made him look like a lion; the barrel chest and solid, expansive belly; and his voice — that English was not his first language. Here I am with a man I have just met, a stranger, and I am feeling oddly comfortable, nostalgic.
His face, his body, his voice . . . during the course of the visit, I am feeling disoriented by the similarities, dizzy from my mind jumping from now to then and back again; from this one to that One. By the time we were naked I felt awash in love and then loneliness, at-home and home-sick all at the same time. I hid it as best I could, but I was crying. Sad, quiet tears for the One I can not be with. Finally I excused myself to use the bathroom and sat there trying to figure out how fast I could get out of that hotel room. The man I was with now had NOT received my undivided attention . . . he came to his release, but . . . it wasn’t my finest hour! Maybe I should just get dressed and go. I wont even take the money, I will just leave. I could do that, but then this poor guy would think he had done something wrong, or that I was a weirdo . . . and it would leave him feeling awkward. That just wont do! He deserves a relaxed, pleasant, present companion.
I washed my face and stayed. We visited, talked, even played some more. I tried not to think about the Other guy, but focus on the one in front of me. He is from out of town (from the same town as the Other, in fact) so I don’t think I will hear from him again. Of course, I wouldn’t blame him if he comes to town and doesn’t look me up. That might be better for me anyway since I would like this first to also be its last.
We may not ALL have hearts of gold, but we do all have hearts.