A Dating Story: The Sushi Chef

Most people hate tax season. That changed for me a few years ago when I met a sexy divorced sushi chef at my accountant’s office.

Oh he was so adorable. I don’t know how else to tell you how adorable this guy besides saying that I actually entertained his small talk before I got my taxes done.

But here is where I made my mistake. We didn’t exchange information so what did I do? I went where he works and hoped to run into him.

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Oh I wish I could go back and tell that younger version of myself to chill out, be patient and let it take care of itself.

But he probably never would have found me and I wound up with some great memories and great sex because of it. #letsbehonest

So we had coffee that day and planned a date where he would take me for sushi at his favorite place in town. Less than an hour before the date he called and was incredibly embarrassed but his car had been broken into and they stole his wallet. He asked if I wanted to postpone the date because he wouldn’t be able to pay for anything. I thought about it and said that I still wanted to see him and try the sushi. (please repeat the above gif)

We had a great date, despite the warning signs. We went out again and afterwards we ended up making out at his place. And it…was…hot. Some of the best making out of my life. The kind where you just know you are in trouble.

And he knew it, too. Mid-make out he pulls away and looks at me and says “We are both in trouble. This is one of those things that will either burn really hot and fast, or this is the beginning of a fucking bonfire.”

I don’t mean to spoil it for you, but it just burnt hot and fast. I knew it at the time. We weren’t all that compatible and the more we hung out the clearer it became. But it was a hell of a lot of fun while it lasted that summer.

That was when I was a personal trainer and I wouldn’t be done classes until 8:30 and wouldn’t get to his apartment until 9:30, smelling sweaty and feeling tired. He would prepare me the best plates of cheese, fruit and vegetables. He told me stories about his day or about his travels and learning customs in Japan.

But there were cracks that would appear when we hung out. We just had completely different ways of approaching problems and life in general. He had an ex that he worked with and he seemed reluctant to let go of her. He was impatient. He was unwilling to come to me so I always went to him. I began to feel like he wasn’t making space for me in his life, I was being fit in around the edges.

He was fun, but despite the chemistry sometimes you get a poem instead of a short story or a novel. I remember him fondly, like many of my former flames. But it was meant to end, it was meant to have a short life.

Other than the obvious lessons to be learned from this, it is one of many lessons I learned about the beauty of letting go of something when it’s over. There is no need to hold on after it’s over. It was what it was, move on.

I’m working right now on not forcing things, go with the flow. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes I feel my old urge to chase the guy, to reach out to make sure he hasn’t forgotten about me. To remind him that I’m awesome.

But no one needs to be reminded that I’m awesome or even that I am here. Because I am here. And what they think (or don’t think) doesn’t matter. I’m awesome whether they remember that or not. I don’t need a guy to reinforce that, because I just am that.

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