As I am sitting on the plane, ready to take off for Denver after my spontaneous birthday date, (https://notmyguys.com/its-me-not-him/), I open Bumble. I see someone so attractive, who wrote something, on his profile, so perfectly aligned with my heart, that I swipe right. We match and I message immediately saying that I am already leaving San Francisco and am sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet. He messages back asking why I had been in town, and then I head home.
As I am walking through the Denver airport, with so many feelings about flying to California to meet a stranger, I get hit so hard on the side of the head by a faulty glass door in the Westin hotel. I burst into tears from the pain, but also all of the welled up emotions from all of my years of trying. And hoping. And trusting. Only to once again meet a guy who wasn’t my guy. Questioning if the experience is worth the effort sometimes.
That night, while all my family and friends are relieved that I am home safely, and I am icing the bump on my head, he begins messaging. While I am mentally beating myself up, he sends a text that says: “I give you a lot of credit for giving it a shot. Like you, I’m a believer in the great love story.” Our messaging is exactly what my tired heart needed. Messages like, “you seem to have a natural beautiful presence about you.” While I have gotten much better at not future tripping, it is becoming increasingly difficult to not wonder if he is the reason for my quick trip to San Francisco. Had I not gone, we would not have matched. Had I not turned on Bumble before takeoff, I would not have seen his profile. It was all feeling fresh and magical.
We started having FaceTime dates and phone calls. He was adorable, intelligent, and fun. We started talking about how we could meet. He had a business trip on the east coast coming up and looked at options for a layover in my city. When he confirmed that he had indeed switched his flight, it all felt so sparkly and exciting. Here was a guy making an effort. Making things happen.
It was pouring rain the day of his arrival, and I arrived at the airport with heart racing at least an hour before his flight was due to land. Checking my makeup in the bathroom mirror, pacing around with excitement. Even sharing the story with those around me who could tell that I was excited. The flight kept getting delayed due to weather. They were circling and he was sending texts from the plane. With each text, his exasperation grew as his excitement lessened. Was this a sign? I could tell that he was questioning his decision.
His plane got rerouted, landing 5 hours later than initially scheduled. I suggested that he Uber north while I drove south, to a halfway point. McDonalds off the highway. So that is where our first meeting happened. Fluorescent lighting at a fast food restaurant on a rainy and snowy night. The drive back to my place felt weird. Like this isn’t how either one of us pictured it.
He was cute. A bit more formal than I had pictured, and even judged the wine I had gotten, saying it wasn’t his favorite. There was no ease. No sparkle in real life. It just felt weird. And I kept thinking: What did I miss? And this isn’t how I pictured it. And, worst of all, I wondered if he was questioning if I was worth the effort.
Note to self: you are ALWAYS worth the effort.
Would it have been different had his flight not been delayed? Not sure. I think the wine still wouldn’t have been his favorite. He would still be more formal than playful. He would still live in California. This experience did help me recover from my birthday trip and once again supported the overriding thought in my head, that you never know. I would rather know than wonder. And who knows what part I played in his story. Maybe it made him feel good to know he was the guy that flies into a city to meet a girl. I totally get that. I have been there. This was a better story than the birthday story, just not the best story. Still holding out for that. XO
