Blue Ribbon Work Crush, Part Three

Three words, “no april fools” and then nothing.

I’d known I had to ask about the “smokes often” of it all. My hope was that it didn’t mean cigarettes, juts weed. IT NEVER MEANS THIS! But he’s my ******work crush****** and so beautiful so I had to at least try. Should I never have matched? Maybe? But I’m glad I did because I like this silly story.

Maybe I was too businesslike or cutesie or boilerplate or presumptuous when I asked him the cigarette question. Or maybe he just smokes, or maybe no answer was my answer for any other reason in the universe! If this were a stranger, I’d have felt pretty neutral about deleting the convo after a few days. Instead, I kind of…strived.

Spring is the perfect excuse to look extra cute, show a little more leg at work than usual. I posted a kind of Feeld-y lingerie pic on my regular dating app profile, hoping that might move the needle. When I wrote the first draft of this paragraph I felt a little judgey towards myself about the picture, but there’s something so tender and sweet about wanting him to just see me. I hope he did see that red lace. I hope he took a screenshot and put it in his hidden folder. Oh and a bad little part of me hopes he shows that hypothetical screenshot to the other guys at work.

The blue ribbon here is really for me, being so totally overflowing with fantasies and, at the same time, almost totally profesh! It’s almost like I have a sense of self-preservation.

The striving went on for a week or so, until one night when I had a beautifully hot hookup with a dreamboat who left a little too quick. That combination of satisfaction and melancholy opened me up enough to get a little bit honest with myself—Blue Ribbon Work Crush was the one I wanted, but he was probably a smoker and DEFINTITELY wasn’t a good texter-backer. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t what I wanted.

I wrote him a note on our now-feeling-cursed dating app thread. I think it was a pretty good end-of-thread message. I apologized for my maybe-businesslikeness and was maybe a little too flowery about how great I think he is.

“Okay cool, I think you’re a nice person too.”

*dies a thousand deaths*

I’m not sure why it’s so devastating to be called a “nice person” but I hate it SO much. I cried, ended the thread, and realized it was only ever gonna be a flirtation. 

Probably, we're both just flirts! Some days I like thinking over every minute detail of what we say to each other, some days I feel mortified and ashamed if I pay him a little too much attention. Today, I’m tired of it and ready for something real.

But as I’m feeling the loss and muddle and awkwardness and BOREDOM, I also want to acknowledge the everyday gift of what has happened, the free-of-charge joy this not-quite-connection has brought. I liked the cute guy at work! He was attracted to me back! Huzzah! I’m proud to be walking away with a minimum of fraughtness. Learning and growing! I might be getting somewhere.

Blue Ribbon Work Crush, Part Two

I had (still have) no chill every time I pass BRWC in the hallway. I always feel compelled to sing out his name or give him a little present.

My department had a whole week of feasting right before Christmas break-- which was wonderful except alllllllll the diet talk that came along with it. If I could wave a wand and make food talk cease to be a small talk topic!!! Anyway, there was an amazing coconut custard pie and I brought him a piece, all wrapped up un foil with a fork and napkin on top. Gave it to one of his teammates to pass along, which in retrospect seems hurtful! Teammate deserved some pie too!

The next day, the last day before break, I looked all over the building trying to give him one of my fancy gingerbread cookies. After that dizzy afternoon, I kept resolving not to chase him! There’s a reminder on my Finch app that says “Do my best about cute people,” because “Don’t fawn all over ___________” seemed too high to aim.

The car got fixed up unfraughtly, and the gentle flirting kept being the icing on the gingerbread cookie of any given day. Sometimes, there was a moment—like when I told him to high five better next time. Like when he told me in a hopeful/bonding tone that his car has lots of stickers on it too.

There was one such moment the day before Easter vacation, a little bit of a blink-and-you’ll-miss it D/s glimmer between us that made me decide that, if the moment came, I was gonna ask him out before the end of the day. There have been several moments like that, that I didn’t end up taking, usually because he was standing around with a bunch of dudes, but sometimes just because I didn’t want to.

Two days later though, a thing happened—he “liked” me on one of the dating apps! OMGGGGGGGGG! Even though he had a “smokes often,” I matched him and said “Hey pal!” and then three big grin emojis.

Seriously, who does this happen to?! I know a “like” is the smallest move possible, but still! He made it! The person I was daydreaming about all this time! The cutest guy at work! Liked me back!

And then my unhelpful brain was like, are you sure? Look at what day it was when he matched: April Fools Day. Several scream emojis!

When he didn’t respond for a few days, I went ahead and asked. “Ohno is this match an April Fool?! If so I will have to schedule some time to be mortified!

(No one I obsessed about this to had ever heard of this as a kind of April Fools prank, so apparently I should have slightly more confidence.)

A few days later, came his three word, no punctuation reply:

“no april fools”

Blue Ribbon Work Crush, Part One

Does everybody walk into a new job and wonder who’s gonna be the Cute Person there? This time, I didn’t even have time to wonder. He was right there when I walked in on my first day last August. A different department from mine! Carrying heavy things! And so exactly my type: handsome in a lighthearted way, tall as me, dark-skinned, locs.

I found a way to say something to him that day and every day since, feeling completely ridiculous after every interaction. He flirted enough to spur my imagination, and firing up the fantasy machine about somebody at work felt scary and delicious.

(And reminded me of Mr. Makeout Music and Lady Work Crush, those cute harbingers of sobbing and job-quitting. I LOVE my current job, top two of all time, so caution is wise.)

Speaking of machines and warmth, after a few months of chitchat, I knew he was a car guy, so I asked him for advice when Valentine’s heater started making a weird whirring noise. And! He said! That it was just the blower motor and if I ordered one online, he would put it in for me! POSSIBLY THE CUTEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO ME. Or anyone.

I asked my coworkers about it and the office leader said “Ms. ________, not everything is a Hallmark movie.”

She wasn’t entirely right, my life is always very romcom, but she had a point. The fraughtness of what if he doesn’t do it right? Or what if I ordered the wrong part? Or if I did order it and he never had time to put it in? And how were we supposed to get in tough about it—did I need to *gasp* ask for his number? I didn’t know my post-Christmas museum trip was gonna get Covid-ed out, Val needed to be ready.

I’m learning how to keep fraughtness to a minimum, so I think I made the right choice taking the car in to the new post-Cute Car Place Guy service station. I was grateful that Blue Ribbon Work Crush had explained to me what I needed!

But I wonder—if I’d let him do me that favor, would we have gotten to know each other better? Would we have been able to try each other out in a way that would have been more organic than what did end up happening? Was I too cautious, too closed off to chance and hope and fate? Probably not, but it’s a very cute “what if” to walk around with.

 

Mr. Long Distance Is a Dear, Part Four

 

I loved laying there talking with him, playing with my nipples, and talking some more. When I asked to see all of him, he very sweetly said he wanted to save that for in person. He said that a few times, but I guess eventually the horniness won out. He angled the camera up from under his dick and oh fuck yeah, it was a profound beauty.

His cock was a fat cone of goodness, angled up and rock hard. I wanted to taste the salty tip of it. I could imagine myself riding it for days and nights, maybe for actual ever. I liked watching him play with himself, the way his thumb squeezed up and down his shaft. His warm face smiled down on me.

I asked if I could get out my trusty big pink rabbit, and of course he agreed. I was watching his face when I came, and he came not too much later. I’d like to have seen the evidence, but I’m definitely glad to have been looking into his sweet face as he got off.

He said goodnight pretty quickly then, but texted with praise, just as we’d agreed upon that afternoon. It’s not as good as snuggling, but it meant a lot to read his kind words, and then read some more in the morning.

But that weekend, I had a trip just a little bit longer than the trip to his place would’ve been, and the reality of our distance sunk in. I took stock of all the spoons I have to gather for any given trip and how much I need to take care of in my own life, and realized that it wouldn’t work.

I spent so much time being lonely during The Shy One, I didn’t want to set myself up for loneliness, for another form of unrequitedness. I wanted to celebrate Mr. Long Distance for the big life he is in, and do the same thing for myself.

This is my home. There are literal millions of men in this city. I had an even-cuter-than-his-picture breakfast date yesterday, a local and sweet and beautiful guy who brought roses. (I hadn’t remembered my favorite brunch place was flower-shop adjacent!) Still, as I type this through, I feel wistful for Mr. Long Distance. And grateful. And a little back-tracky. Matches go by fast, my heart moves slow.

Mr. Long Distance Is a Dear, Part Three

 

The night of not-in-the-mood, Mr. Long Distance and I had a lovely text chat instead of our planned sexytimes. “I just want to see your beautiful face,” he said, but I asked if we could type it through instead.

I was so touched by the way he reacted to my confusion and stuckness, how openhearted and patient he was. Even though (spoiler alert) I ultimately decided the distance was too much, my heart feels so comforted by Mr. Long Distance.

Once the mood returned, I asked if we could try our video sexytimes date again. Thursday at 9, we decided, two Thursdays ago by now.

Before he called, I put on a little bit of makeup and my Easter-blue lingerie. I climbed into bed and got all cozy under the weighted blanket before he called. When I opened the FaceTime, I just LOVED seeing him. His smile is truly so special, open and warm and joyful—just the face you want to see when you’re ready to get naked over video for the first time.

“Let me see you,” he said, not dommy but definitely hungry. I snuggled down into the blankets and said “not yet!”

We caught up a little more, ranging from pillow talk to logistics.

“Would you ever move to________________?” he asked, his voice a little feverish.

“Uh, no. I love (my city) so much, I never want to live anywhere else!”

(That’s not strictly true, I might not need to live here forever, but let’s just take a moment to appreciate the life I’ve made in the ten years since my divorce! My friendships, my business and other work, my neighbors. There’s even a Unitarian Church I can turn to when grief arises! A life.)

Unhelpful geography aside, the chitchat got me ready to lower the blankets. It felt good to move aside the lace of my nightie and slowly, lazily touch my nipples as he watched. I found a way to prop up the phone so he could mostly see me and I could have the use of both of my hands. I picked up the phone and put it above me so he could see my whole rosy, pleased self. I wanted him to see all of me.

“Get rid of the panties,” he said after I pulled them aside to reveal (at least, I hoped he could see) my soaking wet clit. I reluctantly complied—I love the feeling of pulled-aside undies. But if he wanted to see everything, he was going to see everything.

Mr. Long Distance is a Dear, Part Two

 

Since The Shy One, I’ve been kind of frozen as to whether or not to have texting preferences. I’d rather a within-a-couple-hours reaction than a left-on-read. I’d rather know what time a date is than wing it. I think those wants are okay, but I still have TSO haunting me with his “How long am I allowed to go without texting? I’m not trying to be mean, I just want to know what’s going through your mind.”

(There was a lot that had been going through my mind, but most of all it was the fact that he’d recently endured “a little bit of malaria” and I hadn’t heard from him much for a few days.)

(It had been about eight hours that day in late January 2023, for the record, which isn’t long and also is. If I hadn’t been honest about being worried that day, would we have somehow made it? Still bargaining I guess.)

(Made what?)

(I’ve started going to Codependents’ Anonymous meetings, they’re helping with this particular spiral. And others!)

The day, Tuesday-before-last, when I was supposed to have my sexy video date with Mr. Long Distance, he got busy with work stuff and didn’t confirm the time, so I wasn’t sure if we were still on. In the meantime, I was working on a poster for our city’s Trans Visibility Day tribute to Nex Benedict. I’s also listened to one too many episodes of Talking Backwards, a Twin Peaks recap podcast. Now that I’m typing this, I realize I was just too vulnerable and sad to try such a new adventure that evening. It’s maybe just as simple as I wasn’t in the mood.

Which, whoa, I could have just said!

Instead, when the not-confirmed time arrived, I found myself sobbing into my thousand-piece puzzle, just stuck in a loop. Should I tell him I just like clearer communication, especially since we’re so far apart? Do I wait til we know each other better to mention it? Do I just say goodbye now so I don’t find myself later in love with someone who’d hiss “Why? Why are you crying?” at me in the middle of the night.

To be clear, aside from a similarly cute accent, Mr. Long Distance is not like The Shy One at all. He’s bolder and more transparent, more grounded in his life, in his creativity, and in his skin.  He definitely didn’t have anything to do with the grief that was bubbling up.

When the time came to chat, I guess I just was the mess that I am. I told him I was confused about whether we were on for our date or not. I let the feelings leak out in some pretty embarrassing texts, but bless him, oh BLESS YOU Mr. Long Distance, he hung in there.

 

Mr. Long Distance Is a Dear, Part One

 

I usually try to just hit on people who are within a half-hour or so, but the algorithm gets me sometimes. Sometimes I can’t resist hitting on someone who’s far away. He’s creative, he has a warm and welcoming face, and we even have a couple of friends in common.

The warmth was just as warm in his texts. I was so charmed that I didn’t even notice him telling me he’s allergic to cats! And I’m up to three now! I’m amazed I’m getting any writing done at all, with a kitten in the house!

Mr. Long Distance and I had a Facetime date, and his smile was so arresting that I stopped working on my puzzle! He gleamed at me. He teased, asked thoughtful questions, and made me giggle. His life fascinates me so much—there is absolutely nothing sexier than a guy who has a lot going on!

I was thinking he was about two hours away, far but not unheard-of for such a catch! But in reality, it’s like four hours. And he doesn’t drive. And the train makes his tummy hurt. But he could fly! It was such a nice fantasy, the long distance love affair that Get Up Kids songs are made of!

Even after he reminded me that he wouldn’t be able to stay with me when he visits because of the cats, I was still IN. He’s so easy and sweet to talk to. He made me cute-nervous, not that anxious performance-y nervousness that that plagues so much of my dating life. Instead of jumping out of my skin, I felt grounded and peaceful. No dithering, no hustling for attention.

“I’m bored, entertain me,” he said one afternoon when I was packing up for work. I sent him a fairly-chaste-but-lacy pic from the Hidden Folder and just sending it filled me with energy and hope. So I asked him if he’d like to try for some sexy video time the next night. He said yes!

I’ve never had sex over video chat before! I’ve made videos for myself before, and once for that guy who ended up telling me I was bad at virtual sex! So I was nervous, but also curious and so turned on! I knew just what I would wear, Easter blue. I did my nails to match. I felt glowy with possibility! I really hoped his dick would be as beautiful as the rest of him. Spoiler alert, it was!