Drive-Thru Relationships

I’ve been in love once. Twice. Okay three times. Who knows. Clearly this, um, lack of understand shows I know all about love and what I’m looking for, right? So let’s talk about what I have learned.

There was a spark of something in San Francisco that opened a new chapter for me and I really wanted it to go further. Had all the indications that it might look good dressed up in a suit. iCan’t do the long-distance thing, so it fallowed.

Flashback to the holidays of 2012. I met a guy online (I’ll never use that site again!) and I was interested in seeing what would blossom. And after our first date, we dived straight in–but not literally, so stop thinkin’ nasty. It was phone calls everyday, meet for dinner every other day, and then it happened. He called me ‘baby’.

I let it slide on at least eight different times, but after a while, I couldn’t take it! Something in me was screaming, “This is too much too fast and I HATE ‘baby’!” I had to tell him this.

But I tried to play it smooth, though. He was closing the car door and said, “Have a safe drive home, baby.” I reopened the door, got out of my car, and said ever so slightly to his chocolate face, “I really, really don’t like that. Can’t you just call me Rhonda?”

He argued at me for a couple of minutes. I listened. But deep down I felt a huge knot growing in my stomach; and it was saying I don’t feel the same way about you.  

A few days went by, Christmas came, we exchanged gifts, I made plans for his birthday, and then somewhere along the way our communication fizzled. The calls were less frequent. The morning gym pics stopped. And through a disturbing tone in his voice while on the phone one day, I stepped foot into Chipotle just as he muttered the words ‘maybe this isn’t working out.’ The end.

Of course we’ve had the occasional Just Friends phone call/text here & there since then. But it’s really over! Lasted all of a month. And I’m okay with that…partially. Here’s the thing: I can honestly say that I’m content with just dating and not being in a relationship. When you commit to someone, you have to give them all of you. Or at least enough of you to actually begin building a foundation. I don’t think I’m ready to do that.

I like being me. At the end of my 13hr work day, I want to come home and sit in the corner of my couch under a quilt with some pita chips + hummus and watch the first two shows on my DVR. In silence. That’s what I do, it’s how I unwind. Do I want to cuddle with you in bed & listen to your crappy workday stories? Or gain unnecessary weight eat some heavy dinner (over candlelight blah blah) just because you haven’t eaten since breakfast time? Or rip off my clothes and jump on top of you? Not all the time. And FYI, in a so-called ‘relationship’ there’s a lot of ME being sacrificed for US. Fuck that. I ain’t ready yet.

I look forward to wearing too-tight clothes to a lounge and have *clearing throat* gentlemen gawk at me. I get excited each time I go to the gym simply because there’s always a new hot guy on the weights. I love to flirt with a cutie at the gas station. All these indicators let me know that I’m just not ready.

So until next time, unless I land an extra value meal on my next drive-thru relationship, let’s all cross our fingers in hopes they don’t forget the cheese on my chicken sandwich. Swiss cheese.

Advertisements

Golden Gates And Egg Drop Soup

It’s your typical, bustling Tuesday afternoon in downtown San Francisco. Seventeen pedestrians on every corner, horns honking at bikers in the intersection, and lines for lunch out the door. I’m smarter than all the downtown lunchers because I call in my order 20 minutes in advance, plus I don’t bike. Score!

As I strolled into the closest Chinese buffet, I stood in line behind at least 3 other “smart” people who phoned their order before me. Crap. So I’m stuck in line after all. Just as I get ready to have a bitch-fit about why my Egg Drop soup isn’t ready (don’t they make it in the morning then just scoop it from a bucket anyway?), three handsome men get in line next to me. Let’s call them Bachelors #1, 2, & 3.

Bachelor #1 looks about 28, 6’1″, and caucasian. If you know me, then you know I’ve been wanting to date a White guy for a while now. I heard they’re obsessed with natural-haired Black women, and well…you get the point! But this guy wasn’t making the cut, not smooth enough. Bachelor #2 was handsome, looked 34-36, but I could already tell that he had whispered something to Bachelor #3–the one making eye contact with me. He was my type: wide shoulders (gets me every time), great smile, and the haircut Beyonce sang about. I saw #2 giving #3 these little signals, ya know, the she’s-cute-but-I-can-tell-you-like-her-more glance? Homegirl caught it, and Bachelor #3 was probably gonna approach me.

Bachelor #3 looked 30-33, a bit more handsome than #2, and wasn’t as scrawny as #1. Plus he went all in for the 3 entree special like me! I love a guy who likes to eat.

So I batted my eyes at him a few times while trying to figure out what I would say to give him some “I’m single” aura. But I had a really stern look on my face since my damn soup still wasn’t ready. I came up with this–

Me: Do you come here a lot?

Him: (laughs) I was just about to ask you the same question. Actually, we do, we work close by.

Me: Oh right, I work close, too. But I usually don’t have to wait on my food. Like, ever.

*blah, blah, small talk*

Him: So do you have a number where I can reach you? Or, here, I’ll give you mine and you can text me.

GOT HIM!

After the initial text where we established names/numbers, I was confused on what to do next. Clearly, we’re both now back in the office barely busy, but I usually prefer a phone call over texting on a first encounter. Can’t call. At work. Fast forward to the first time I did call him (let’s just say ‘later that day’), we were able to set up another lunch date. Now I feel special. And I like Bachelor #3 because he’s thinking like me…or has something more important than a dating life to fill his evenings with. With my luck, I’ve probably snagged yet another woman’s husband for the ___ time this year.

I was looking forward to this date. I wore leggings & made sure my toes were non-ashy. If it’s one thing I’ve learned in male/female relationships, guys can’t say no to a woman in leggings. We opted for a cheap fulfilling meal (aka Chipotle), but when I asked him where we were eating, he said, “Follow me.” WHAT?! This guy actually planned something in advance? Alright Ashton, I’m already ready for you to jump out with the cameras.

We strolled to a nearby park that, oddly, I’d never seen before. I didn’t tell him, but I was completely opposed to dining outdoors because downtown San Fran smells like pure ass. Around every corner. Seriously. But whatever. We grabbed a bench, he stared at my thighs (#winning), and I began to yap about my excitingly stressful job. Then he told me some things, and we had basic sweet conversation. It was quite refreshing to not have to pry decent communication from a guy…we’ll talk about that another time. After a slight pigeon attack and some unruly dog smells, it was time for us to split. And the verdict on Bachelor #3 is: iLike.

But before we parted, I told him that I was only in town for work & would be leaving in a few weeks. Insert his sad face. Now here’s where things got interesting. From then on, our communication was based on the fact that I won’t be here for long, “so we’ve gotta speed things up a bit.” Hold on brotha, where the did Sweet Convo Guy go? Is that my cue to pull down my pants or simply plan a dinner/movie date? I’m confused….or am I? In real life, I basically want the same thing he wants anyway, right? Sooooo what’s REALLY wrong with speeding things up?

Fast forward to our next date, and then another, and then…well if I told you everything, then I wouldn’t be a good girl because we don’t kiss-n-tell!! But I will confirm that wearing leggings gets women in trouble. After a while, he’s going in for a feel. Or maybe a grasp. Or maybe I should just stop typing now.

%d bloggers like this: