Time and Distance Overcome

On Saturday, I went out with a man who I met a few years ago—when I was with Tyson. I saw him for only a few minutes when I got into town on Thursday—long enough to confirm that I was attracted to him and to begin to feel giddy at the prospect of hanging out with him more on Saturday. He is one of those people that I knew in real life for only a matter of hours spread across a handful of days three years ago. But we kept in touch in the strange virtual realm and when I learned he’d moved to Oakland, we made plans to hang out when I came to the Bay.

We met at his place; he picked up Thai for us, we talked about life paths and the people we knew in common. He mixed drinks of Orangina and vodka, we watched clips of Phil Hartman from Saturday Night Live. He read a story to me. We played each other music. We went to a couple of bars. He asked what I looked for in a man. The whole evening was spent flirting and seemingly evaluating each other for a future. The chemistry was great. As I write these words, my chin is still raw from his close shaven kisses.

And yet, the strange thing is that despite the fact that he’s good in person—not just on paper—I can’t imagine it going anywhere. Before we spent that time together, my imagination was running wild, as most women’s imaginations are wont to do. But now, nothing. I know that not every guy who I have a great time with will have love potential, but this is the first time I can honestly remember enjoying a man so much and not being motivated to seek more with him.

Is it some kind of maturity? Have I reached a point where I recognize earlier when things aren’t going to go somewhere? Is it because we live on different sides of the country? The best I can figure is that in the present, at age 30, with my last relationship a failure of distance, I've finally learned not to want the impossible. Or even the really difficult. All I know is that I left thinking That was really nice, but with no pining for romance, no familiar ache.