He's date #87

No, I haven't reached that number yet (though I'm getting close)! Months ago, I mentioned the blog to a guy I dated while living in Africa. After a few chuckles, he was adamant about being #87. As he lives on the east coast, however, I didn't think this would actually happen.

Then, one day, we were g-chatting and getting a bit sentimental about the good ol' Africa days. He said that he really wanted to see me, and I agreed! We decided we'd reunite over a holiday weekend. That night, he booked a flight to Seattle! (He was quick to remind me that I had a lot of catch-up dating to do before he arrived; I succumbed to the realization that I wouldn't make it to date #87. Instead, the weekend was date #63.)

It had been over 2 years since I had last seen him and I was nervous to pick him up from the airport! Once reunited, however, it was as though no time had passed. We giggled, spoke Portuguese, and reminisced about taking bucket baths and killing chickens for dinner (yea, we're hardcore)!

We took advantage of every free minute the weekend offered--hiking/sledding with friends at Snow Lake, watching playful seals from kayaks on Alki, listening to bands at Folklife, eating meals at ethnic restaurants, getting drinks at bars in various neighborhoods...amongst many other activities. I created many more incredible memories with an amazing person! But, yet, I just wasn't really feeling it.

Maybe it was because I had set up so many expectations: Despite the 8 hour bus ride, we managed to see each other in Africa semi-regularly; undeterred by the 3 hour time difference, we talked almost every week; we have similar life aspirations and feel comfortable together. Meant to be, right?!

But I realized that, for some reason, this wasn't the person with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. And I think he felt the same way.

We still talk, though less frequently. I'll never forget him, or our adventures across different continents. But, the weekend gave us the insight that, perhaps our romantic flame had burnt out, and it's finally time to really move on.

I was his first kiss. Ever.

Well, not on the most recent dates, of course. After all, we're both 25 (only 1 day apart, actually). The first kiss occurred some 10 to 15 years ago (I don't really remember it, but he informed me of this fact). And over those years in middle and high school, we got to know each other more and more. We never dated, but I babysat for his brother, we skied together, took similar classes, went to the same parties, etc. We knew each other quite well.

So, when he mentioned that he'd be traveling across the country to do business here, I was excited to meet up! It had been about eight years since we had last seen each other. We talked for a few days, cementing our prospective plans. When we finally reunited, it felt so comfortable to "gossip" about familiarities--family, common friends, restaurants from our hometown, and classmates. We were able to bypass the awkwardness of the first (and often second and third) date.

As our time together continued throughout the week, it was evident that we both felt some kind of attraction...but neither wanted to be the first to say it. And so, we flirted playfully at dinner, danced affectionately at a club, and coquettishly conversed during our Mt. Rainier hike. One night, we even cuddled--but neither took the initiative to kiss on this occasion, over a decade after the first lip-locking. And so, after several days of fun, I left him at the airport. And we chatted and texted for subsequent weeks. The topic of our attraction came up and clarified that feelings were, indeed, mutual.

But he's on the other side of the country. So, we'll just wait for his next business trip out here (this month, actually) to see what happens. At the very least, we'll have a fun week together!