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I became even more concerned when the first Wednesday came and went and Chad wasn’t with his buddies at the beach. My binocular searches confirmed that. At my current rate of beach-watching, I’d be a certified rescue team member at any moment.
Where was he?
When the second Wednesday came around, and after seeing him exactly zero times on the beach on any day, I became worried. Did he get a new job? Did he go back to Columbia, South Carolina? Did he get back together with his ex? All those questions haunted me and tore at my insides.
I’d never felt these emotions before and knew nothing about how to assuage the fear and uncertainty of whether he liked me. I thought we’d had awesome sex, and that we felt close before, during, and after the fact.
I reached for my phone and dialed Emergency. And by Emergency, I meant Marla. “So, still nothing?” she said, picking up on the second ring, no hello, no catch up on life, chat.
“Not a thing, Marla. What did I do wrong?” I asked. I wanted to puke after asking her the dreaded ‘what did I do wrong’ question. Of course, it had to be me to blame. I’d built Chad up so much that he couldn’t possibly be at fault, or a scintilla less than absolutely perfect for me.
“Calm your puss down, Cole,” she soothed. “Take a deep breath and let’s examine this.”
“I’m sorry,” I sighed, lying across my sofa and staring at the ceiling.
“You are just not accustomed to the dating rituals of the regular folks, dear,” she began. “You’ve never been through a slow waltz. Sometimes when you’re trying to land the big fish, you have to be patient, honey. And you, my dear, sweet, teenager of dating, are exhibiting no patience.”
I could almost kick my legs like a six-year-old boy while listening to her. Marla was right. I had no experience with this game called ‘pursuit.’ I’d first seen Alan at Central Park. I smiled and sat on a nearby bench. Alan came over directly and sat beside me. “You’re handsome,” he’d said. “You need to take me out on a date,” he’d said. I did, and he never left. Well, not for a bit, anyway.
“Dating wasn’t like this with Alan,” I whispered, still trying hard not to kick my legs against the cushions and wail like a baby. “He said he wanted to be with me after four days.”
“And look where that got you,” she sniped, sipping on something.
“Is that wine?” I asked, checking my watch. It was eleven in the morning.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” she replied. “None of your business, Narc. Let’s get back to mystery boy.” She took another drink of something and paused. “Okay. So, you fucked him,” she began. “And then nothing, you say?”
“It was a fun time had by all,” I insisted.
“So says the man left hanging,” she argued.
“Marla!” I whined. “I’m serious here. We liked each other. I’m sure of it.”
“So, have you tried calling him?” she asked.
“Well, no,” I admitted.
“Why is that, Cole?” she pushed.
“I dunno,” I answered, sounding exactly like a sullen boy whose mother questioned why he was naughty.
“Honey, listen to me.” She drew in a long breath and then slowly let it out. “I know you have no dating experience. I keep forgetting about that even though you’re in your late thirties.”
“Mid,” I stated.
“Whatever,” she dismissed. “Basically, you are a teenage boy. There’s no way around it. Outwardly, you’re über successful, a gorgeous hunk of a man, but you have no game,” she stated.
“I don’t want to play games, Marla.”
“Hush and listen,” she said. I was about to argue her point, but decided she was worth listening to. “By game, I mean experience, maturity, street cred, you know, those sorta things. You’re a newbie, honey, and that is okay.”
“It is?” I asked, trying to follow.
“But here’s the tough love part, sweetie,” she said, pausing for me to grunt or confirm that I was listening. I made a noise of understanding. “You are thirty-seven, and you are a highly successful man that people admire. However, inside you’re a babe in the woods, honey.”
“I feel worse than that, Marla. Like I have no idea what I’m doing or even attempting to do,” I confessed. “Honestly, I hurt inside and Chad hasn’t even said no to me or told me to go away yet.”
“Exactly!” she enthusiastically agreed. “Not yet, anyway.”
