Well, it’s been over a week and it’s safe to say that I lost any opportunity of proposing to elevator hottie. Oh well, I’m probably not ready for marriage yet anyway. At least I’m ready to start talking to strangers. Talking to strangers in Manhattan - what a fantastic and sensible idea. If I end up dead in a gutter somewhere or married to a Republican, I’m blaming you guys.
The whole elevator incident got me thinking about timing. If I had got on two minutes later, I never would have seen him, and my day would have been boring, void of all inappropriate fantasies involving bamboo huts and a strategically placed banana leaves. No but seriously, isn’t romance really all about timing?
I was very open to excitement and the thrill of passion when I met Andre, my last boyfriend, in an art class that I had almost dropped off of my second semester’s schedule. The universe was open to the option of our union, we both moved at the same pace and the whole courting process was more harmonious that Boys 2 Men acapella.
Currently in my life, I’m not exactly open to danger and heart-palpitating drama with a man. I’ve done it, I’ve gotten gray hair from it, and most importantly, I’ve learned that a relationship can still be exhilarating without the ghetto fights and movie-style making up. Although, that type of making up – I don’t think I’ll ever be done with that.
I’m ready for a grown-up relationship with a grown-up man, though it may not come along today or anytime in the near future. And by a grown-up relationship, I don’t mean lock-down. I don’t mean shoved up each other’s asses and living together and engaged. I’m talking about trust and relaxation. My career is getting more and more of a hustle and I want someone who will be my vacation. Comforting and fun, like shots at the pool bar (hence the above picture I took in Jamaica last year).
Anyway, speaking of sensible guys, Shawn, the super-hot gym guy who ended up being a doctor called me yesterday and asked when we’re going to go out again. I haven’t seen him for at least two months and completely forgot all about him.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” I said after a little polite small talk. “Did you get married or something?”
I was dead serious. He was hot, brilliant, sweet and 29. He was M.I.A. for two months; I figured some lucky chick had snatched him up. I wouldn’t even be jealous – there was something about him that made me wary. He was too pretty or something.
“No,” he laughed, “Not that I know of. Work has just been kind of crazy.”
Not the wisest answer but let it slide. Work probably was crazy, although I don’t really see how being a freakin’ doctor is crazier than being a writer.
Bottom line, we’re going to go to a jazz lounge by my apartment this weekend. He’s a bit flaky though, so I’m not keeping at as a tentative. My back up plan? Sweet, luscious sleep. Oh yea, I’ll shamelessly sleep in on a Friday and/or Saturday night if I don’t have pressing social commitments.
Time is a tricky thing. I liked my two month break from Shawn because I wasn’t really interested in getting to know him back then and now I kind of am. All this even further solidifies my theory that when you don’t make decisions on your own – they often get made for you. Which means less work for me, and with vacation constantly on mind, less work is never a bad thing.