Past, Present and the Future
I have always been a believer in never looking back. The past is there for a reason, so I tend to leave the past in the past. However, there are moments in life when the past suddenly becomes your present and even might become your future.
It certainly got me thinking this past week when someone from my past, out of the blue presented himself in my life again. I was sitting at my desk this past Monday, working and saw that my phone was telling me that I had an email. I looked at my inbox and there it was…my last ex. No words in the subject line. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to click on it. The last time I saw him was last year when I had to sign some papers on an investment we did together and it was finally out of our hands. I swore that last visit was going to be our last.
As I clicked on and read all it said was, “Hey kid. How are you?” He used to call me “kid” as a term of endearment. I sat back, took a deep breath and refilled my water. When I returned to my desk, I responded with, “Hi. I am good, thanks. How are you?” Our banter with work, life, etc. went on for a few more emails and finally he asked me what I was doing the next day. He wanted to meet for drinks and possibly dinner. I didn’t tell a soul that I agreed to meet him the next day. I wanted to see for myself if he had changed, I know that I certainly had changed. We have been broken up now for six, going on seven years.
On Tuesday, I wasn’t nervous. I actually felt confident. He always had a tendency to be very punctual and of course, work was running late that day for me, so I was a few minutes late. He was having a beer at Brickyard over on Ninth Avenue. There he was, sipping on a beer and playing with his phone. He also didn’t seem nervous at all. He offered me a seat and he was never a man that was about the words, so I knew I was going to have to take the driver seat on this one. I chose not to drink at first because I really wanted to have a clear grasp as to why we were both sitting there. After polite conversation he mentioned he was hungry and so we went to this little Mexican place right next store.
Margaritas were ordered and now I was ready to get down to business. I learned that he is still working in finance and that he is now contemplating on buying an apartment. He is going to be a first time uncle and is very excited about it. After the work talk, the family update, it was finally time to ask the inevitable question that all exes ask each other once they see each other again. Are you seeing anybody? I went first and told him that I was single. He told me that he is also single. In fact, he hasn’t dated anybody really since we ended. I was shocked by how much he was confessing to me. This was man that only cares about the Mets, Giants and the Rangers and here he was telling me across the table that after I left him; that I had I destroyed him. I told him that was the past and we don’t need to focus on that anymore. We are here having a good time and let’s just pay attention to that.
Toward the end of our meal he did something that he has never done, even when we were happy and in love. He grabbed my hand and held it into his and said, “I know I wasn’t good to you. We went fast in our relationship and I never even treated you to a real first date. Would you like to go on a real first date sometime?” Who was this man that I was having dinner with? It took my by surprise and I had no idea how to respond. After I took a much-needed sip from my margarita, while he was still holding my hand, I replied with, “I would like to go on a real first date with you. I can’t guarantee you a second date but I would like to try a first date.” He smiled, kissed my hand and said we should wrap it up. I walked him to 50th and Ninth Avenue and we kissed. It felt familiar. Nice and odd all at the same time. We kissed one more time and he said, “Ok. Let’s save this for our real first date.” He walked away and I stood for a second with a look of confusion. Back at home, as I washed my face, I heard my phone alert that I had a text message. It was from him. It read, “I had a good time tonight. I am looking forward to our real first date.” I went to bed that night in a calm state.
Coincidentally, that week I was scheduled to meet a guy I had been chatting with from OKCupid. He seemed rather interesting, in fact, when he messaged me he said, “I have seen you around Hells Kitchen. You are always out and about. You look nice and proper.” I wasn’t sure if “proper” was a compliment or not but I took it to mean something positive. We had decided on meeting on Friday night at one of my favorite wine bars. When I woke up on Friday morning there was a text and it was from him, canceling our date. It is bad enough getting up in the morning but to receive a text like that before you even have your coffee…that is just down right mean. He said he had friends in town and needed to pay attention to them and that he will contact me to reschedule. I just responded with, “Ok.” To this day, I have not heard one word. Luckily for me, I had friends that wanted to have dinner with me so that night instead of meeting a new guy; I met some wonderful old friends.
On Saturday, I was to meet another guy from OKCupid. This guy was extremely attractive. So attractive, that I actually was nervous to meet him. He lives in the West Village, 43 years old, works for the government and seemed to really have his act together. We had been exchanging messages all the previous week and finally had settled on meeting on Saturday in the late afternoon. That morning I got up, did pilates, laundry and even ran five miles. I wanted to be energized and looking good for this date. We had been texting all day long. He was funny, witty and even charming, if one can be via text. He finally suggested we meet at his place for an afternoon drink. I told him that since we never actually met that meeting at his place is probably not a good idea but that I was open to meeting in his neighborhood for a drink. He agreed and said he would get back to me in a few hours.
I get a message from him a few hours later, saying he is in the mood for Thai and suggested we go to Spice over on Eighth Avenue at 7:30. Perfect. A little dinner, drinks and while getting to know this Mr. West Village. I get to the restaurant on time and he isn’t there just yet so I tell the host that there will be two of us and she sits me down. I decided not to get a drink just yet in case Mr. West Village wasn’t drinking that night and I didn’t want be known as “The Drunk.”
After ten minutes and still no Mr. West Village, I decided to order a white wine because I didn’t want to hold up the table, as it was getting busy. Thirty minutes go by and now I am onto my second glass of wine and not one word from him. I text and even called…no answer. FIFTY MINUTES go by, three glasses of white wine later and now I am not only tipsy but I have finally realized that I have been stood up. I get the waitress to bring me my bill, I pay and I wonder around. I thought about crying but refused to give this man or this situation any tears. However, my feet took over my mind and I wound up in the West Village. My friend that was scheduled to meet later that night still was at work, so I found myself at a bar where I know no one would bother me and I would feel slightly good about myself. I went to, The Monster.
As I sat down and ordered vodka with pineapple juice, I observed the room and it was all the regulars. Older men singing Judy Garland songs by the piano, more older men trying to hit on young guys that barely speak English and then there was this normal looking guy that ended up sitting next to me. By my second vodka/pineapple I was starting to feel good, even moving around to someone singing terribly to, “All That Jazz.” Finally, the guy that was sitting next to me, asked me what was wrong and why I was here all by myself. I should have lied and said I was waiting for a friend but I was far too vulnerable, so I told him all that had happened to me. He was really sweet. He told me that the guy that stood me up was a jackass and that I deserved better. It was just what I needed to hear and so came another round of cocktails.
This guy was really endearing, he went on to say, “Just so you know at some point tonight. I will be putting my hand on your knee and also, will probably end up trying to kiss you.” Again. Just what I needed in my current mental state, so, he did just what he warned me he was going to do. I did notice that this guy never went to the restroom. We were downing drinks fast and I was peeing like a racehorse but he didn’t go once. As soon this thought came into my head, in walked a bunch of young German woman. They were models; they were at least six feet tall, beautiful and looking to have some fun. Their English wasn’t that well off and so it was hard to understand. All I got was that they wanted to dance at a discotheque. I mentioned that downstairs in this bar that there is a place to go dancing. It was at that point that the guy I was making out with now said he needed to use the restroom.
I could not believe my eyes when he got off the bar stool…he was hands down the shortest person I had ever seen!!! I want to say he was at best, 4’11” and that is being generous. I wouldn’t say he was a dwarf but he sure did give the dwarf name a good run for his money. It was right about then that my friend whom I was to meet showed up. Thank goodness he arrived, when the guy came back from the restroom everyone was ready to go down stairs to dance. My entire body language changed and even my friend said to me, “Wow. That guys is little and were you just kissing him when I walked in?” I had no words, for my actions or myself. As we got downstairs to dance there was literally no one there but the DJ and us. I had to get out of there and I needed some sort of distraction. As the guy and the tall German models were dancing, I warned my friend that as soon as there is any sort of opportunity to leave, we are busting out of here. As luck would have it, no sooner that the words of us leaving came out of my mouth, we heard the models shrieking. We all looked down and there were three cockroaches scurrying across the dance floor. That was it. That was our ticket out. I grabbed my coat; my friend and we exited and never looked back.
Yes. It was rude to just leave this poor guy who for the past hour or so was making me feel better about myself. However, I just didn’t want to be stuck there the entire night avoiding someone trying to jump up and kiss me. As my friend and I walked back to Chelsea, that is when I got a text message from Mr. West Village saying, “Sorry we couldn’t meet up.” Was he kidding me? I responded with, “You are so rude and inconsiderate. Please don’t contact me again.” He STILL did not take the hint and said, “What? What is the problem?” I was stunned that he was acting so immature. This is a 43-year-old man. Get it together. I never responded, this guy was screwing around with me and it wasn’t funny at all. He finally took the hint and never contacted me again. After the fact that the entire day and night was a bust, I felt so exhausted and deflated that I walked my friend home and took my ass to bed.
Yesterday I woke up and decided that while Friday and Saturday were huge failures that I wasn’t going to let it get me down. I managed to make the most out of my Sunday. I ran my errands, did some writing and even meet a friend for some afternoon cocktails. I wasn’t back 100% but I was certainly feeling better.
Which leads me to the present state. I have no idea what today will bring or what the future holds or if my ex will become part of my life again. However, I do know that I have my friends, family and the city that will always be a part of my past, present and my future.
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