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.

 

End of a Flirt Era, a Zap of Loneliness

Even when I made the car appointment, I felt a little off, like I would be wrong to expect this trip to be another round of “if onlys” from Cute Car Place Guy. I felt off, ashamed, exposed—all emotions too dramatic for an errand. Driving in Monday morning, to get the oil change done and have them check the weird noise the heater’s (I mistyped “heart’s) making, I had such a sad feeling. Shame mixed with loss and sleepiness. The heater had been making a noise, but of course it wasn’t that morning!

It was the first time in years that I didn’t see Cute Car Place Guy smiling and beckoning me to pull in. He was nowhere to be seen and they assigned Valentine and me to the new guy, who was admittedly also cute. I felt like I’d been found out, like I’d gotten in trouble.

When CCPG DID appear, he called me by my given name, which is not the name I go by. Nothing like realizing I’m not a main character (Of course I’m not!) in this person’s life, or even a guest star! We got a chance to chat as we usually do, though. He always starts with “Staying out of trouble?” and of course I have been, a little too much lately!

It turns out, he has separated from his wife, the wife he’s been complaining to me about for years. Typing that makes me realize it’s actually pretty reasonable to feel a bunch of shame about this! I’ll change that to “remorse” but still! We’ve been hitting on each other for like five years of his marriage! Gross!

Then, it felt for the rest of my wait like he was avoiding me and like I should be avoiding him. I felt too loud and very not-charming. When I got the too-high bill, I wondered what was wrong with me that I’ve been having the car serviced at the dealership for almost ten years?! There’s a perfectly good and less-expensive place so much closer to home!

I’m kind of committed to the whole Boyfriend Material thing, and this guy is not, and could never be, the right one. The whole vibe is just…gone, and that’s probably a good thing.

It makes me sad. It was a kind of love, him looking after Valentine and me, being there with the discounts (Were they, though?) and almost always game to ruffle my feathers and buoy my spirits a little bit. Sometimes even bringing up the original ask-out/thank you note I sent him in…2019? Something like that?

Is it because of Luke Daines that I associate car-care with affection? Remember when he replaced like ALL the insides of Lorelai’s Jeep so she could keep the original body?

One of the cute guys at work offered to install a new heater motor for me (On top of all this, the sound still sounds!) so I’m currently squeeing and overthinking about that! The idea of handing him my keys fills me with fizzy forbidden bubbles.

Anyway, the end of a flirt era—what do I do with this? When a relationship ends, there’s a protocol, pictures to scroll through. A playlist I’ve been curating my whole life! I guess what I do is write this blog post and feel sad and lonely for a while.

I stand by my earlier-this week sanguine magnanimity, but for a few days I’m just kinda freaking out. I think the CCPG fantasy filled a bigger need than I thought it did. I think I held out a stronger hope that it was a slow-burn meet-cute than I wanted to admit to. I’m afraid there’s just NO ONE, that this dating slump will collide with age 50 this coming year and I will never touch a man again!

At the same time, letting go of what isn’t, recognizing where I really am and what I really want, makes room for the right things to happen. The open door of new possibility does feel a little bit good.

Knotty Thursday: Boa Knot and Emo Flirting

 

Did you know Fire of Love is narrated by Miranda July, the patron saint of artsy broken hearts? What a perfect movie, wish I'd gone to see it when it was playing at The Song Sender's movies! Last night I sat in front of this latest in a string of beautiful sad movies and halfheartedly learned my weekly knot. I had personal harness time too, but that was just for me to know the details of.

These weeks post-breakup haven't been all sad movies and melancholy self care! It's February, my carversary, so I had to bring Valentine in to get inspected by the Cute Car Place Guy. He's still as bad an idea as ever. ("Look, if you want me to come by, I'll come by," said this married and definitely not poly heartthrob/jerk-to-his-wife.) But being all "Oh my heart's all broken, will I ever find love again?" and having him be like "Of course, you'll be fine! You're a strong, beautiful woman." made all the heartbreak a little easier to bear.

They say it takes about half the time of the relationship to get over a breakup, but I'm not sure I want to wait five months to be slutty again! On the other hand, I AM sure I'm not messing with any husbands right now, poly or otherwise!

Heartbroken flirting is a new kind of adventure?

New Feeld profile--at least they know what they're getting?

Postscript to the Shy One

My heart has no sense of perspective about kind touch or attention to detail. It’s why I asked-out-then-befriended my massage therapist. It’s why I have had a crush on Cute Guy at the Car Place for SEVEN YEARS, ever since the first time he put my keys back on the key ring for me.

Kind touch and attention to detail are where all the swirly/woozy/glittery emotions about the Shy One came from, what makes him so hard to move past. Warm affection, carefulness, specificity. The first night with him, after the pretty ropes and lovely sex, in the cozy glow of peace and satisfaction, I leaned back onto him and he said “I love your body,” running his hands over my shoulders, my arms, my waist, my hips. Firm, warm touch, easily given—I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gotten a hundred girlfriends since we broke up in mid-May.

That first night, it was so easy to learn the Heart Link harness because A. He didn’t mind me rewinding a YouTube video a bunch of times trying to figure out the hearts! And B. He was so still! Excited and engaged, not impatient or judgey. Encouraging. Sweet. I don’t think too much about dad energy, but maybe that’s what it was.

The night of all the presents, our third date, after our month of sunsets, was one of the most powerful instances I’ve felt of arousal being intertwined with joy. He had the condom on and was ready to go in, but I told him to stop. Just stay there. Wellbeing fizzed up through me as he paused, hard dick resting on my vulva. I put my arms around him tight, kissed him, and felt the full force of whatever bond that month of mostly-chaste flirting had built.

It was a feeling of wholeness that, somewhat vexingly, still occupies my entire body. Any time I’m quiet and calm, I can feel it in my toes.

To paraphrase Lady Mary (spoiler alert!) when her suitors were closing in and she was still deep in grief over Matthew Crawley, I’m still full of The Shy One. It’s true that The Hipster jangled loose a lot of stuck desire and made me want to start a summer sex rampage like the hot kaiju that I am, but even as I move into this new stage of why-doesn’t-so-and-so-text-me flirtation/vexation, The Shy One is still with me. He’s not just in the limbo of my Feeld inbox, being all “This human has deactivated their account,” he’s in my soul’s inbox, in my whole heart. Both of those places are very crowded, but still.

That third date was the only time he slept over, and in the long process of saying goodbye, he sat on the floor next to the bed to hold me and kiss me while I was still under the covers. That morning was THE WHOLE DREAM, a distillation of why I started this blog in the first place, the CLOSENESS, the ROMANCE, the being adored. There was another time, on our second date, we were all wrapped up in each other, when he looked me in the face (I’m sorry but NO ONE was better at looking at me than he was.) and got still.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“Nothing. Well, I am thinking something. I like you.”

It’s hard to imagine any new feelings ever coming close to that, though there’s never any need to compare feelings. I know every connection is its own universe, every new match a fresh start, a new mystery.

Two days ago, I wished long-absent Mr. Sweetheart a happy birthday on facebook, the most low-stakes interaction possible, and to my delight, he reached out to say hello! We’re planning a catch-up Zoom! He was excited that I remembered his blog nickname, and I said “Of course I do! Once in the story, always in the story.”

So, dear Shy One, who is probably not reading this, same thing. Once in the story, always in the story. You’ll snuggle and read about history and watch your true crime shows and love and work and hopefully see flowers and think of me every once in a while. I’ll learn to let you go, to forgive myself for not finding a way to fit, but you’ll still always be with me. Your generous touch, your giggle, your expert tongue, your supercute butt; always a little bit mine. And my heart, slutty though it will surely be, will always belong a little to you. I’ll love you. Forever. That’s all.