Change.
When I agreed to meet with Mr. Ex, in retrospect, there were no expectations. Other than a hot meal. Although I did make some assumptions.
- He’d be wearing jeans, converse sneakers, and a button down shirt.
- A 50% chance he’d be late picking me up.
- A 75% chance something with work would impact our evening and push back the 7pm kickoff time.
- We’d eat dinner at either my favorite Greek spot or a local Cuban cigar bar we’ve frequented many times.
- I’d filter through empty promises.
If I had bet my unemployment checks on this hypothesis coming true, my piggy bank would be busted.
Thirty minutes beforehand, he confirmed that the scoop up time was still OK with me. Normally I’d meet him outside and hop in the car, but he said he’d come inside. “Hmmm…interesting, he is being very formal.” When I opened the front door in my jeans and sleeveless pink top, he stood there with a smile in a full suit. This really threw me for a loop because we had a running inside joke that he was always under dressed and I was always over. He handed me two dozen red roses. I love flowers. Thankyouverymuch. After putting them in water we headed downstairs and I was the first out the door.
I looked to my right and see another guy in a suit, standing outside a black stretch limo. Eloquently, I gasped “Oh shit.” I scooted inside to red rose petals on the seat, Dave Matthews is playing, and notice a long black rectangular box with an unfamiliar logo on the floor.
Within seconds I went into panic mode. Code Red: What is he doing??
Quick assessment — Ok. Point taken. Clearly he is trying to make an impression and romance me to no end. While pouring champagne and sipping on my very first taste of Dom, I observe he is wearing a silver ring…the one I gave him years ago that was engraved on the inside but rarely made an appearance because he doesn’t wear hand hardware. I also sniffed a familiar scent — my all time favorite cologne that makes me melt, Le Male. As the songs continued, I realized that every single one played a role in our history. I commented on the personalized music and he said the CD was for me. Now although I was quite taken back by the grand gestures and thoughtful attention to detail, I also recognized that the “things” wouldn’t negate our rocky history.
He explains that we’ll ride around the city until our reservations @ 7:45, at Morton’s Steakhouse. I’ve been there twice before, both times with him. The last was New Years Eve a year ago and we had gotten into a verbal scuffle. Which actually is very unlike us, but it was the beginning of what would be our relationship’s demise and times were tough. Mr. Ex went into a speech about the evening’s theme to the tune of Obama: Change.
“I arranged the limo, wore a suit, came to your door, not to try and be flashy, but as a metaphor. I’m different now. I wanted you to see this change.” He was visibly nervous and even had sweat droplets on the top of his nose. He continued giving me insight into the agenda, picking Morton’s to try and replace the sour taste in my mouth from our prior experience. And the reason he reached out to my sister was to get my parent’s number — to ask for forgiveness, explain his laundry list of poor decisions in the past, and ask for their blessing…if I gave him the thumbs up to do so. After cruising around the city skyline and enjoying two glasses of bubbly, we arrived at dinner.
Without rehashing our dialogue verbatim, in short, he talked about what the last year has been like without me. How he sees through a different lense now. That his Peter Pan costume is hung up for good. That today, he literally can’t conceptualize what his fear of commitment was. That he was a fool. That he was honored to have me sitting next to him. That he wants to get married, to me. That I’m the One.
There was so much talking, our filets got cold. We discussed our past relationship, trust, forgiveness, family, friends, 5 year goals, 10 year goals, children, religion, dating, lessons, dreams, and our ridiculous connection that even a fire hose won’t put out.
We hopped back in the limo and that is when things took a turn. He grabbed a manila folder and had “some things he wanted to share with me.” It began with a printed out email from 2005. I had written it to him, while going through a difficult time and was thanking him for support and encouragement. He read it out loud along with the attachment I had included with Life Laws from the Dalai Lama. Every single point directly reflected back to our dynamic. Then he read a poem he had written for me years ago. Then recited a full page of specific commitments he’d make, in order of priority. Then read two more pages of memories.
Finally, he ended by pulling out two plane tickets from his suit jacket, looked me in the eyes and asked if I’d go with him to New York City this weekend…”where it all began.” About seven years ago we jetted there in December, had the time of our lives, and got snowed in for days.
I should have worn waterproof mascara.
Next we headed to a popular outdoor holiday display on steroids. Richmond has a conference and hotel center that is covered with a kagillion lights on large and small Christmas trees as well as dozens of decorated deer. We strolled through the visual dessert and he kept snapping pictures of me, then yelled to a couple across the walkway, “I love this girl!” They cheered. I laughed.
We stopped in a few bars around town and continued our conversation. Although I’m skeptical. Although I’m scared. Although I’m consumed with doubts. I can honestly say that in the 3,000+ days I’ve known him, I’ve never ever seen the extraordinary level of sincerity in his eyes, demeanor, and voice.
I have a dialogue date set with God over the next few days to discuss my next move. In the meantime I’ve pressed pause on the dating challenge until I sort things out. When I reached out to tell the Quarterback about my change in the dating playbook, he said [without even knowing that I actually do refer to him as this] “I get it. He’s your Mr. Big.”
