But since I have been lacking in the really great dates department, I decided to take what I could get.
So after schooling him on my favorite jazz lounges in the city, I looked at my phone and decided I needed to get my tired ass home, so I told L just that.
“I know you probably don’t give guys your phone number, but I’d love to catch a set with you when I’m back in the city. I mean, if you want.”
I nodded and laughed a little bit. And said nothing.
“Okay, so can I give you mine?” He bit his lower lip and squinted at me, testing the waters, which I found kind of adorable.
“Yea,” I said. “You know what? Take mine. I doubt you have the time to stalk me anyway.”
This time he laughed. So we did the number exchange thing, and then walked out the entrance, where his chauffeur-driven Benz was calmly waiting.
“Hop in, I can take you home,” he offered.
I politely declined. He then offered to hail me a cab, at which I informed him that normal people in the city did the subway thing. Then he insisted on walking me to the subway, which would have been cute except teenage girls kept stopping him and humping his leg (not literally, but you know what I mean).
I rode home deep in thought about what L and I had discussed in regards of relationships. He was single and intended on being single until he could find a woman who emulates the spirit of the strong, smart and soulful women (mother and sisters) who raised him. It made me realize that I am that woman, and if I was as comfortable in my personal skin as I am in my professional, I could very possibly find a man who I could really stand still with.
And in the wise sentiment of Bob Marley, I’d rather stand in love than fall any day.