This time last week I was standing in the 31st St. parking lot. The remnants of fireworks strewn all around, paled by comparison to the sparks I was feeling. I was on my first face-to-face meeting with a guy I met on a dating app called Bumble.
After a morning walk along the lakefront, I decided to dive in and meet him au naturale with the hopes that he would be solely attracted to my heart. Baring no make up and letting my guard down, we laughed and talked for 20-30 minutes, an awesome follow up to hour plus conversations on the phone. What would normally seem like torture in July’s 80 degree temps, felt fine like a summer breeze. We “clicked.” Internet pun intended. We parted with the strong possibility of booking our next trip (meeting). A polite text, “It was such a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing your smile again…soon.” and a few more phone conversations later, and we were on our way. He planned our first official date. I moved through the week buzzing with excitement. Friday finally came and with a new hairdo, new dress, and new shoes in tow I arrived…only to go from floating like a butterfly to being stung, like a bee.
It wasn’t like he was Ivan the Terrible or anything. He was, and is a great guy. He brought a ray of sunshine through the window of this shelter-in-place summer. It’s funny how much more getting out of the hives of our lives means now. But masks aside, the line between boundary and barricade is indeed thin. What’s too much to ask? What’s too little to expect? Cupid must have a side hustle as a baggage handler with all that is carried from one relationship destination to another. So much so that I’m wondering if I missed love’s flight because I refused to check my own bags in. But the turbulence of being stood up left me feeling unsafe to move about, wondering if this was destined to only go one way. So I made a beeline for the nearest exit. The black box (cellphone) revealed that he was willing to meet a few hours later, but I feared that the way this thing took off is exactly how it would land. Flattery may get you everywhere, but who wants to travel with just peanuts? I want, and I’m willing to give– first class. My head held high, my heart slightly worse for the wear, I must keep my eyes on The Captain…and believe that my Honey is out there…somewhere.
“They (God’s Words) are to be desired more than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the honeycomb.”
Psalm 19:10
