I’m back from a trip to Dublin, Ireland. This is where Tiger Man and I decided to meet to spend some time together and get to know one another.
When I left Norway, I was convinced I wouldn’t hear from him again. But, to my surprise, I got a text after I landed on American soil. We texted daily ever since.
It’s so easy to be flirtatious and gooey with texts, photos, and even heart emojis (am I really 52?). I told myself, over and over, this isn’t REAL. But, did I listen to myself? Nope. Nada. Not a chance. I forged ahead with this romantic notion that we were inexplicably drawn to one another, and the fact that we lived a gazillion miles away only further cemented my belief in the romance of it all. Should I have been less gullible? Probably, but I went with the “life is short” credo, and hopped on a plane to Dublin, full of optimism.
When I spotted him at the airport, we greeted each other warmly, and decided to grab a quick bite, since we had some time to kill before heading over to our Airbnb. And this is when it happened, and IT remained my captor from the moment I was struck.
I had imagined so many scenarios prior to that moment, that by the time the moment finally arrived, I become frozen with fear and anxiety. I wanted everything to go so well, that the real me got lost behind a wall of uncertainty and utter blankness. I couldn’t even decide which groceries to buy when we were stocking up for the apartment. Where did I go? Why couldn’t I just let go and be the weird, witty and warm person that I believe I am?
I chose to hide my weakness instead of coming clean. I couldn’t bring myself to burden him with my demons on this grand plan for a third date. He was wonderful, and I believe the poor guy worked his ass off trying to maintain the conversation, make plans, make decisions, and entertain me, all while I gamely went along, teased him here and there, and tried to overcompensate with physical affection.
In the end, we spent four days learning a little more about each other, seeing a smidgen of Ireland, and making memories that I’ll never forget. When it was time to go, we kissed goodbye, I stepped on the escalator, and then turned around briefly to catch a glimpse of him one last time.
The adventure is over, I’m back home, and the communication seems to have moved from steamy and sultry to positive and oh so polite. Today was the first day I didn’t hear from him at all.
I can’t say I blame him.
This song is dedicated to Tiger Man. I don’t know what the future holds, for either of us, but I thank him for being a good sport, for my morning coffee accompanied by a single biscuit, and for the excellent DJ skills.