So my first real crush and I set up a date the week before Valentine’s Day. He lived in a larger town about 45 minutes from me (whereas I was living in a town of just over 900 people with nothing to do) so I drove there to meet up with him for the date. We decided on dinner at a cozy little steak house and then a few games of pool at a popular sports bar. Dinner was great, the conversation was easy. We talked, we laughed, and we talked some more and then I totally schooled him at pool! (Ok, my rendition may be a little different than his, but I’m the storyteller here so we are just going to run with it.) As the night ended we held hands on the way back to the car and drove back to his place. (Stop. At this point I should probably insert a little additional history… Not everyone knows this but my BFF has an older sister that is my husbands age and who kept in touch with him after high school, so around the time I was about 18 or so we were partying in the same circles with him and my friends older sister… And there was a fast and furious romantic encounter that is still a little fuzzy for both of us but occurred, none the less. ((Yes, yes. I’m aware that this only further illustrates a lack of “appropriate” behavior on my part and that I was obviously the “wild” one in the group. Dually noted.)) Anyway, I was always smitten with him and we had this lingering bit of a spark already…

So we went in, sat on his couch for about ten minutes with his little dog that was growling and snarling at me the entire time… Super romantic, right? Actually it was really awkward/scary/frustrating/bizarre/annoying. And I remember thinking that this was the weirdest end to a date that I’d ever had. Hmmm, second thought, probably not. But this was NOT the end I had hoped for. So I decide it’s time to go since I still had a 45 minute drive home, and he walked me out to my car and I opened the drivers side door, leaned in to put my purse in the passenger seat while simultaneously rolling my eyes in utter disappointment that there wasn’t even a hint of a goodnight/goodbye smooch on the horizon, and BAM! As I turned around he snatched me up against him and laid it on me! It was the most amazing kiss I think I’ve ever had. I was in heaven. And he was in serious danger! I tell him now that he has no idea how close he came to being taken advantage of that night. For real. And then we said goodbye and I got in the car and drove away, never to return again. Not really. But I did go home. And the whole way I had a smile plastered on my face so big that I felt like a crazy person.

Over the next few weeks we talked on the phone, planned a couple of more dates that never actually happened, and then eventually it just plain fizzled out. He basically told me one day that he thought we should just call it good and leave it at that. He justified it with, “his new promotion, so busy at work, too far away, not fair to you, blah blah blah.” And I totally didn’t buy into that crap. (See, I am super stubborn and strong-willed and I feel like if you want something, you make it happen. And to me he was just being an absolute weenie-head.) So I left him alone. He didn’t call or text me anymore and that was it. I decided that he was a complete flake-ball and that I was glad I had found out so soon into the relationship instead of later on down the line after I had invested a lot of time and energy and emotion into it. And I figured there was some other girl where he lived, or that he didn’t like our kiss as much as I did, or that he just wasn’t attracted to me after all. You know, the normal stuff women think when a guy flakes out – because women are relationship-doomsday-preppers, always anticipating the very worst and mentally building ourselves up for these kinds of situations so that they don’t take us by surprise and completely crush us when they happen. And I moved on with my life.

Just before the one date I actually had with flaky, I had started going to these volunteer organization meetings (because I am also a “yes” kind of person and have a hard time turning down opportunities to help. Ugh.) Anyway, the meetings were interesting and there was a lot of really nice, good people there and it gave my son access to some great role models, and it was a safe place for us to hang out, free from any drama. I met some new people, got to know some people I already knew a little better, and they really seemed to appreciate us being involved. It was fun, too. My son was having a blast helping out and the group made him feel really welcome and integral to what they were doing, so it was good for him too. So we kept going. Plus it made it way easier to forget about flake-ball. There was this one guy there, that my son had really grown kind of attached to, and it was reciprocated by the man. He knew that my kids dad was not in the picture, other than to cause as much chaos and scary, unwanted ridiculousness in our lives as humanly possible, and I think that was probably a factor too, but he just stepped right into a mentor role with my son. I thought it was great and kind of sweet until my son called the man ‘dad’ one day. And I totally freaked out. But the guy didn’t freak out and he just rolled with it like nothing. He had two older boys that were just grown and so he wasn’t shocked or upset or weirded out like I was. And after awhile we started hanging out outside of the volunteer group.

It became a sort of “dating-by-default” kind of situation. It was very easy, very simple, very low pressure, very safe. And I was great with that. The man was good as gold to my son and we really did become great friends. We respected each other, we had fun together, and everything was a three person adventure. We went and did stuff all together, we even took a “family” trip… It was good. It was also kind of …. Hmmmm. It was almost like he was dating US. Which sounds nice for a single mom and a young boy that wanted a father figure. But it wasn’t really a relationship like I normally think of when you say ‘love’. He loved my kid, and my kid loved him. And we really liked, admired, and respected each other. We had a great time together. But it was more a relationship of ease. It was easy. And I kind of liked it that way. There was absolutely no hidden agenda, no unspoken expectation or obligations, no miscommunication, no drama. It was nice. And then, all of a sudden it got really complicated.

One day, out go the blue -nine months later- I get a call from Mr. Flaky asking what’s been going on. OH, REALLLLLLLY???!!!….. I can’t even begin to tell you how surprised and kind of pissed off it made me. So I politely tell him, upfront so that there was no confusion there, that I was seeing someone else and that technically I was ‘unavailable’ – and I asked what his intentions were? He asked if it was serious? I told him not really, but that if I was seeing him, I would offer the other guy the same courtesy of being upfront about the situation. And then he proceeded to tell me that I had to break up with the guy. Excuse me?!?! Who. The. Hell. Do. You. Think. You. Are. (Mouth agape.) I was flabbergasted. I explained that he was being rediculous, and that it had been nine months, NINE. MONTHS., since I’d heard so much as a peep from him, and that he was a total flake and that there was absolutely no way that I was going to dump this really nice guy that had done nothing wrong and who I was completely happy with, for a flake-ball. He then described how he planned to marry me and I fell down on the floor in a fit of laughter. Not really. But I kind of wanted to. Because he was a total jerk and I was head over heels for him and I was not about to just let him just waltz back into my life and break my heart all over again. But I didn’t tell him that. Because that would be dumb. So instead, I told him not to call me again and we hung up. End scene.

Over the next few weeks me and Mr. Easy still hung out and I told him about the weirdo that I had one date with that wanted to marry me after a nine month hiatus from the face of the earth, and we laughed about it because “oh my gosh, he is obviously out of his gourd crazy!!” And flaky would call or text and I wouldn’t answer or respond and I just kept trying to not react and to just let it fizzle out for him again like it eventually would. But it didn’t. He kept calling, and he kept texting. And I kept ignoring him and telling him to stop being a stalker. And in the middle of all this I was dealing with some major drama (like my sons sperm donor getting shot – yes, SHOT – during a burglary). (See, I warned you that I have had some wild and crazy life experiences. You’re starting to believe me now, aren’t you?) But he just kept on being super in love with me. So just before Thanksgiving, I’m sitting in my living room with my son and Mr. Easy, and I realize that I really REALLY wished it was flake-ball there with us instead. And I felt awful. I felt like I was being an idiot and that flaky would never work out and he really was a raving lunatic and that I was just as ridiculous for playing into his game. I pushed past the thoughts and tried not to let my mind wander anymore. But it was hopeless. I eventually broke down to my mom, telling her how I was feeling and she said, “Forget about Flake-Ball and just move on!” Not really. She actually told me some really wise, sage-wisdom kind of stuff about what the heart wants and God’s will for our lives and fate and second chances and having to see for myself what was going to happen. She’s very smart.

So the next time flaky called, on Thanksgiving Day, I gave him every reason I could possibly think of as to why a relationship between us would never in a million years actually work out, including the fact that he had never even met my son (which is a really big one!), who I affectionately refer to as ‘The Warden’, because he’s super stingy and protective of me especially around men, because “You are NOT dating my mom, regardless of who you are or what your actual purpose of having any sort of contact with her might be.” And flaky told me how he would make it work and that he’d been praying about it and he just knew that I was supposed to be his wife. So I told him that I would pray about it too. And I did. But first I called Mr. Easy and told him that the wacko guy that wanted to marry me might not be so wacko after all and that I really felt like I might have some unfinished business with him. And he understood and agreed to step out of the picture. It was really scary. Terrifying, actually. But I had to find out for myself what was going to happen. So I told flaky that task #1 was for him to come to my house, the very next day, and meet The Warden. Because that was going to either make or break him. And guess what? He agreed to come. To Be Continued.