I have been savoring the memory of Friday night all weekend.
Stand Up Paddle-boarding was cancelled – due to high winds. We will need to reschedule. The weather had turned, it was cool and very windy, but we could still have a beach day, right?! I made several suggestions, and we both agreed we wanted to spend the time outside (cause its summer in the Midwest and so you play outside regardless of the weather). New plan – meet him at his place, we go get tacos from a tiny place I know of that’s not far from him, take it to the beach and picnic, then who knows.
I have to admit I was a little apprehensive about going to his side of town and even suggesting the tacos – because I know that Crazy Joe now lives in that area. And I know that he gets tacos from the same place. I know because he sent me a picture of the tacos asking me a question. Trying to talk to me. Saying he missed me. No thank you. I would like to NOT run into him, especially while out with a guy. Crazy Joe is so unpredictable, that I have no idea if he would ignore, or try to say something. Thankfully there was no sign of him at the taco place or at the beach – but I did scan the parking lot for his car.
The tacos were amazing. Dimples has lived here his whole life (with the exception of college) and has never been to this place. Totally not on his radar. Literally minutes from where he grew up. Granted it isn’t in the BEST part of town, but….. I’m willing the risk for good food. I talk him through the ordering process. They didn’t have the flavor of Jarritos I wanted outside, so we went inside to get those. I talk him into letting me pay the $2 for the drinks. Dimples always insists on paying. Which I realllllllyyyy appreciate the gesture. But I know I “make” like 4 times as much as he does. Its like Miranda and Steve. I’m only letting him take me out on dates I know he can afford, or I pay my way.
We get down to the beach and it is WINDY. Really and truly super duper windy. I was freezing. I had a crisis of outfit before I was leaving the house, but decided to just go in what I had “momed” in all day. A skirt and tank, and just threw on a cardigan. We eat, and chat. He got me on my Angels are the worst team in baseball rant (I’ll save that for another day), and so I asked him what makes him irrationally angry. He admits to road rage. Uh…. WHAT?! HA! I couldn’t help but start laughing. I said I was curious after he drove me somewhere, if he always drove like a grandpa or if that was for my benefit. He admitted that it was him trying to drive on his best behavior to impress me. He joked that now that I knew his secret, all bets were off.
After eating, we took a walk along the beach. then meandered up a trail, and through the park. The sun was setting, lighting the Cleveland skyline and it was truly beautiful. We had a great view of it all and as he put his arm around me I leaned into him, reached up putting my hand on his cheek and gently turned his head towards me so I could kiss him. We then walk back down to the beach to sit and watch the sunset. While we were sitting there I told him I was curious about what he thought when he got my number – like how he remembers it. He said he had no idea what was happening, but that the waitress just handed it to him. No info, just “Hey that girl wanted to give you this”. Ha! I told him the backstory, that it was a lot less planned out than what she made it seem. He said he would have to thank her, since I was still talking to him. I reminded him that it works both ways, and he’s also still talking to me. I told him that his quietness is sometimes unnerving since I don’t know what he is thinking. He told me sometimes he doesn’t know what he is thinking. I can relate.
When it got too windy to stay on the sand, we moved over to these oversized porch swings. We continues to talk. Or maybe I talked and he mostly listened. I pointed out clouds on the horizon with what I thought they looked like until it got too dark. As we were telling stories, I told him about the time I had a bad experience with Ambien. My advice, don’t take Ambien after having labor induced. You won’t actually sleep. Anyway, after the fact, I realize maybe its not the greatest story. In fact its a terrible story. Here I am, telling this guy about that one time I was in labor and my ex hates me so much he doesn’t come back to the hospital telling me “well someone should get some sleep tonight”. Dimples re-assures me that, no, it was a good story. He thinks I tell stories well – he says I give them “pizazz”. It was seriously the sweetest thing.
We head back to his, and he asks if I want to come up. I say yes. We sit on the couch for what feels like forever and also like no time at all. I learn a few surprising facts. Like, Dimples has a record collection! Mostly inherited from his parents, but still – like 6 crates of records! We chat for a bit and I finally lean over and kiss him. I pause, and tell him that he can kiss me whenever he wants – that would be ok, I said, I sometimes get the impression he is hesitant, but that he didn’t need to be.
Well….one thing led to another and I was quite late getting home to the babysitter. Oops. The two things that stand out to me the most, and make me smile when I remember, is the look on his face when he made his move. Pure lust. Like a cat about to catch his canary, just a slight smile as he moved toward me. The other thing, The way he turned his head away from me, ever so slightly, and whispered “fuck” as I touched him. Needless to say I’ve been basking in the afterglow.