His name was Dylan and we met at a neighborhood event. It wasn’t even my neighborhood, I had been invited by my best friend to do a basement tour in her quirky neighborhood in Baltimore. I was excited to meet all the people in her neighborhood.
And this one in particular caught my eye. He was handsome, like straight out of a romance novel about a hot, muscular Irish guy. But he was quiet and a little reserved in this environment where everyone had big personalities. I didn’t mind, but it did feel a little harder to connect to him.
We ran into each other a few times on the house tour and finally he asked for my number. We met up on the Sunday after Thanksgiving for our first… hang out? I never know if these things are dates. It’s like feeling each other out- do I like this person enough to do more than a drink? We did, and we hung out and then made out in the parking lot.
Thank goodness he was a good kisser, because talking wasn’t always easy.
We dated for about a month. We had enough in common that there was plenty to talk about. But it never felt like conversation got very deep. But we loved music, and we could talk about it, listen to it, and watch it together. Between that and a solid physical attraction, what more do you need for a month?
The beginning of the end was one night when we met up with friends of his at a bar. I was so attracted to one of them, but I am a lady and I know my boundaries! Until we started bantering. And it was like ping pong back and forth, and we couldn’t stop. It was good natured, but it was the kind of connection that I didn’t have with Dylan.
And it became even more clear when we all relocated to an impromptu bluegrass jam around the corner. It was evidently clear that he had a similar type of chemistry with another girl. Well, that does it.
Strangely, it didn’t end that night. Actually for whatever reason we were still incredibly attracted to each other physically and we slept together that night. The next morning was so awkward I wished I could turn back the clock and sneak out while he was asleep.
And that right there sealed our fate. Neither of us called the other one ever again. I wondered about him from time to time, especially because it was great sex. I wouldn’t mind revisiting that. But when things can fade away gracefully, without pain or anger, it seems like it is a better idea to just leave it be.
Ever had one of those? A guy that ghosts but it actually feels like the perfect exit?