We met in April 2009.
We'd been chatting a bit over Facebook, mostly, and we had a lot in common: we were both from the Eastern Shore, went to the same boarding school, had lived in Nashville, were living in Atlanta. We both had old dogs who were like children to us. We both liked to run and do hot yoga. We both missed the beach. There seemed to be a lot of compatibility.
So on a Sunday in mid-April we met up for a drink. He picked me up. We extended drinks into dinner. As we walked back to the car I looped my arm through his, in a simple and friendly gesture. He felt like a buddy.
We made plans to go to a ballgame the following week. At the game, we were so entranced with each other that we failed to realize the game had ended and everyone was filing out. Literally. The stadium was half empty before we realized what was going on. The Braves were playing the Colorado Rockies, but I cannot tell you any more about the game, notwithstanding the fact that we were seated three rows behind the Braves' dugout.
He held my hand on the way back to the car. I felt a tingle of attraction. It surprised me.
We saw one another pretty regularly after that, but kept things pretty light. After the ballgame I stopped dating other people. I had been seeing 3-4 guys intermittently, and more as an exercise in not hibernating. But after having that strong connection/attraction at the game, I knew dating other people was disingenuous; I wanted to explore the possibility of a relationship with Matt, but I didn't want to go too fast or get too serious.
A month into the relationship we kissed for the first time. It was romantic. He had taken me to a party and as we left it started to rain (it rained on every single one of our dates for the first month). We laughed about how the rain had found us again and he swept me into his arms and gave me the gentlest of kisses. No throat probing or face-devouring; just a gentle, warm kiss. It was so nice.
We introduced one another to friends. I took him to 2 work functions, where he was delightful: charming my partners' wives and thereby making me less objectionable to them. I ironed his shirt for the events. He was kind and tender with me, always encouraging me to be proud of myself. He'd take care of me after a long bike ride, always concerned that I be properly fed, hydrated and massaged. One night after my first century ride (100 miles over the course of 6 hours in 90 degree heat) I fell asleep in his car after dinner. He drove around in the car with the windows down and beautiful music playing for an hour so as not to disturb my rest.
My sister came to visit. He chaperoned us on a wild night's adventure that included his carrying my sister into the house and putting her to bed.
We made plans to go away for a weekend over the Fourth of July. I remember his preparing snacks for the 3 hour ride. I remember his having chosen a special bottle of wine: Two Hands Angels Share; pink lady apples and some delicious cheese. He had asked me earlier in the week to buy myself a white dress to wear on the trip to Savannah. We stopped 30 miles shy of our destination in Dublin, Georgia, walked out into a beautiful field holding hands, he slipped the linen shift over my head, lay his shirt down on the grass and we made love. He was so gentle with me. He treated me as though I was precious.
That night and the next day we had a ball. The second night, though, Matt became very angry with me. We had been drinking so it's hard for me to recall exactly what he was angry about, but whatever it was I recall thinking "He is mad at me for something I didn't say and don't think. This is bizarre." I slept on the couch as opposed to the bed, as I refuse to be close to such toxicity. The next morning I got up first and showered, and began to pack. He thought I was leaving without him.
We spoke, reconciled, and made love. The strangest thing happened when we made love that morning. As we climaxed, I was looking down into his eyes, and they opened up into a deep ocean and I dived in. I saw this, I am not using a metaphor. His eyes opened up and I fell in. Of course this did not happen physically but it is what I experienced. It wasn't the physical pleasure, as I had experienced greater pleasure before then; this was something different. It was Olivia.
Several weeks later my period was late and my breasts were sore. I waited a few days and then finally checked: pregnant. I went to the store and bought four more tests. Yep. Pregnant. Matt came over after work, per usual that night. He knew I was late. I said, "I need to tell you something."
"You're pregnant."
"Yes."
"Is it mine?"
Wait, what? "What the fuck kind of question is that?" (We literally spent every waking moment not at work together)
"I don't know, it just seems like what you're supposed to say!"
"Listen, Matt, you don't have to have anything at all to do with this pregnancy or baby. I don't expect anything from you nor will I impede your ability to be involved."
"I want to marry you."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No, no. I am sorry about what I said. It was stupid. It's just like what you see on the movies, right? The guy asks if it is his?"
"No. I don't have any idea what you are talking about. Do you sincerely believe that I have been sleeping with someone else?"
"No! Are you?"
"Oh my God just stop. I am going to take a bath."
No comments:
Post a Comment