Now after much anticipation, I’m finally at the part of the story that is supposed to be the height, the pinnacle, the CLIMAX! This is the part where where I tell you how I fell for a person who I right-swiped on one night after listening to my horoscope who told me that I was going to meet an “exotic, sultry stranger.” The only problem? I didn’t know where to meet said stranger and desperately wanted to make it so. Where would I meet this stranger? How was I going to push my fate into the direction of the stars ASAP, because my stars did say that this was going to happen ASAP, didn’t they? So I went on the fastest, most instant gratifying app out there. I went on TINDER, because I didn’t have time to fill out a lengthy survey on Match.com.
It turns out, the stars were right in one respect. I did end up meeting someone sultry, but instead of rolling around with someone exotic, I ended up falling for a semi-lumberjack, a la Ray LaMontagne look-a-like named, B* who originated from the fine state of New Jersey.
And now that it’s finally time to introduce this man who is the star of this story, who is the stumble in the Six Date Stumble, I find myself at a loss. How do I describe this love affair without being generic….derivative? How is this story different than all the other stories that you, my beautiful readers have either read (via other stories, blogs, books, poems) sung to, watched on the big screen or experienced yourself?
The truth is – My stories about love and loss are not different. They are stories that we have all experienced. The difference here is my ability to hone in on the things I learned about myself from these men that I dated. I’ve found a way to translate this heartbreak into something more meaningful than a box full of “I Hate Hims”
Yet as much as I want to skip over this whole mess and get to what is my high point, the real core of what this blog is about, I know I owe it to all of you to tell the whole story and the truth (or at least most of the truth, because there is one really embarrassing detail about him that I’m dying to tell, but I’m not sure if it would be right, especially when my mom is reading……….)
In short, if I had to describe my first date with B*, it would involve every cliche that people use when they first meet someone whom they immediately connect with. Yes, I was thrown off by his “look” at first, but that didn’t stop me for falling for him the minute he said, “Jen, it’s B*.”
We all have that perfect date story, don’t we? Where were you? What were you drinking? What did you look like? What did he look like? How did you feel? What music was playing?
That perfect date where guy meets girl, guy and girl talk for hours, guy and girl have tons of chemistry and blah-di-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah that is forever described with phrases like, “We clicked”….”It felt like we knew each other”…”It was so natural”…..”The chemistry was palpable!!”
And that is what this date was between Jen and B*, two strangers who met via one of the most impersonal ways that two people could ever meet and who found themselves speeding past the awkward, fist date jitters into a circle of romantic cliches. He was sweet, kind and had a velvet voice that made me laugh with his storytelling and naivety. A laughter fostered by a natural chemistry that was sitting right by me as we teased and traded stories about our lives, while making up ours. Yes, we collaborated on our “How we met story,” because of course we were going to see each other again and neither one of us wanted to tell our friends how we met this great, new person on Tinder. We needed a real, romantic, genuine story that interlaced my love for reading and his love for biographies. After a playful debate, we decided that we met in the bio section of Barnes and Noble where I would tell him how I just got done reading a non-bio, “The Art of Racing in the Rain” after he asked for a recommendation that would end up leading us into a conversation about his dog, Isabella. We then chatted until the store was closing and then continued our impromptu date to a nearby pub where we continued our conversation. Jen and B* didn’t meet on Tinder. Jen and B* met at Barnes and Noble.
As the night wore on, we sat closer with his hand on my neck, his hand around my shoulders, his thumb twirling the ring on my finger and brushing my hair from my face.
“When can I see you again, he asked?”
Photo Taken By Me in Los Angeles
Catching up? The Full Story