A woman I had never spent even a second with in mutual physical presence.
Also a woman that would fly in Tuesday night, drive with me to Peoria on Wednesday, stay through until Sunday, and drive back to Chicago to leave on Monday.
That is a pretty significant first date commitment for a woman. I have a tremendous amount of respect for that sort of courage. Either she really liked me, or was batshit crazy.
I am excited and relieved to report that she is both courageous and sane. And 5’10”. Take that gross, short ladies! You gross!
Standing at the bottom of the escalator in the airport, I became nervous waiting for our first interaction.
What if the spark that definitely existed on the phone wasn’t there in person? I was worried that we would be spending five and a half awkward days and nights together. And sleeping in different beds. And I just washed the goddamn sheets! Well, the sheets in the master bedroom. The guests in the second bedroom will never know the difference.
As she descended the escalator and our eyes locked, my anxiety dissolved. She was every bit as beautiful as I had fantasized about during our phone conversations. Without the full body leather one-piece.
Then my anxiety came roaring back. What if I wasn’t attractive enough for her? Yes, readers, even super amazing looking people such as myself are worried about looks. I know, it’s silly. I’m chiseled in everything fantastic.
She greeted me with a solid full kiss. Which made it awkward as I had to navigate over to baggage claim with an erection. I’m a rightie by the way. No, wait, leftie. I just checked.
Once we got in the car we did what you all wish you could do on a first date. We assessed each other’s physical stature verbally.
“So, am I handsome in person?”
“Yes! Are you disappointed in me?”
“No, you’re beautiful. Great job!”
She uncomfortably mumbled, “Thanks… ” not quite sure how to take me congratulating her on her appearance.
We held hands the rest of the drive home. Two hands on the wheel is neither necessary nor romantic. Be a man.
I don’t want to get into sordid details except to say that we engaged in much of the Kama Sutra’s first sixteen positions that night including that one with the double headstands and patchouli oil.
Obviously I’m kidding and would never reveal any, if there had been any, physical interaction descriptives.
Truthfully, I just wanted to spend intimate, quality time with Jessica, to hopefully further our connection. You can’t really start a relationship with sex in my experience. Plus, the best sex often arises naturally from the progression of connection.
Women, of course, know this. I’m still learning.
We had a lovely first evening and awoke the next morning and both went to work for a few hours. Her firm has a satellite office in Chicago.
I picked up Manny’s to eat in the car. Manny’s Deli is my favorite lunch spot in the entire city. It’s a Jewish deli that specializes in corned beef and pastrami. And for some reason, chop suey. I guess Jews love that crap.
We ate on the road, and wolfed down the sandwich. She used a fork, which secretly impressed me. I picked up my half of the pastrami and corned beef combo and ate it with one hand. Then, we shared matzo ball soup. In the car. Whilst driving.
Yes, I said “whilst” – it’s better than “while.” Don’t take this away from the British. They need it.
We arrived at my parents’ house three hours later. My sister and mom were out running errands, although I’m not exactly sure doing what as we ordered Thanksgiving dinner from the country club.
My father greeted Jessica with a solid hug. He loves hugging.
By the way, the best part about being an adult is kissing women on the cheek that would have rejected me in high school when I see them now. I never miss a cheek-kissing opportunity.
In the next several days, we visited four of my friends at their parents’ homes, went to a jam session in one of my buddies’ basements, attended a big party, celebrated my mother’s birthday, and played Rummikub, our family’s favorite game.
Jessica fit in perfectly with our family. My friends seemed to really like her, and my each of my family members gave her a rave review.
She also did that awesome “helping out” thing that you hope your girlfriend does when you bring her home. Nothing impresses a mother less than a chick who never offers to help with the cooking or dishes. I dated one of those once.
We drove back to Chicago on Sunday, had Chicago-style pizza for lunch, and relaxed. For dinner, I met out two of her friends, and had a nice sushi and barbecue meal. Don’t ask. It was good.
Monday morning, when I drove her to the airport, we sat most of the way in silence. This was a huge week, with lots of emotion, intimacy, insecurity, and romance. It was like cramming a few months of dating into five days. Hard to process.
I felt sad when I dropped her off. Not devastated, but very morose. I already have my ticket for the upcoming New Year’s Eve, but this was still loss. This new potential relationship was flying back to Atlanta.
Even though it sounds like this is going super fast, it really isn’t. We’re both talking about our feelings and making sure we give each other the appropriate space. I’ve pushed relationships in the past, and it never works. You have to partner-up, and find someone who is on the same emotional page. I believe we are. I’m excited for my future with Jessica. Our future.
However, if she dumps me, I’m totally going to start nailing my readers. Get your jerseys on, scrubs!
Actually, I paid, but it was her idea.
In my profession, which is managing Chicago real estate agents, I am constantly recruiting.
Many firms simply do a terrible job of supporting their realtors and leasing agents, and I am always reaching out asking if they would be interested to join our firm.
I try to schedule one to two interviews a day, spending an hour with each recruit.
This morning, halfway through my first meeting, the woman I was with asked, “Hey, I’ve never been to Manny’s Deli. Want to do the rest of our interview there? ”
I’m lucky to be around the corner from the best deli in all of Chicago. If you’ve eaten at Katz or Carnegie in New York, you know the value of an amazing Jewish deli.
Since it was only 10:45am, I wasn’t ready for pastrami or corned beef on rye. I ordered matzo ball soup and she did the same plus a knish.
And then I forgot to eat the rest of the day.
I really just get so busy, I have a hard time remembering to eat at work. If I don’t schedule it, I often times just don’t end up eating anything.
It’s not just forgetfulness, however. There’s clearly a disconnection from my body going on. I am working on this with my therapist.
I have protein bars in my desk, so it’s not like I eat nothing during the day, but it’s clearly not enough.
Today, aside from the soup I had at Manny’s, I only ate two protein bars.
And here’s what happens.
By the end of the day, I’m obviously wiped out. But it’s more than that.
I start to get emotional.
You know that one friend who, every time he gets drunk, turns into a sobering mess of, “I love you! No, I mean I really love you!”
For my group of friends, this would be Brian. We all make jokes about how many beers it will take until Brian starts crying and telling us we’re the greatest guys in the world.
Now, lest you think I am making fun of Brian, I am not. Personally, I’m touched to hear this sort of thing. I wish I had the courage to show such vulnerability.
But, since I don’t drink, and the Western world doesn’t generally associate emotion with masculinity, it’s difficult for me to share at this level.
That is, until I stop eating.
By the end of the day today, I was consumed with gratitude for some of my agents. I even called a few and left voicemails telling them how thankful I was that they worked with us. I was drunk on low blood sugar.
Now, the real work is to figure out how to get to these feelings without starving myself. And then to have the courage to say them aloud.
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