2:10 The Nurse
Um. WOW.
Update: one week in, and I've fallen hard for her.
Update 2: close to two weeks in, and I'm doubting that there will be any more dating stories that don't involve her directly. That might be mostly hopeful projection, because it is still technically very very new. But, holy shit, I'm happily enthralled.
Update 3: aaaand now I'm terrified of losing her, before even actually becoming anything beyond theoretical. Hearts are stupid.
Update 4: she shared her PhD thesis writing work with me. It's a special kind of vulnerable intimacy that I treasure. Now all I can think about is all the things I wish I could share with her.
Update 5: she appears to have let herself fall in love with me, too.
All is right with the universe. And interpersonal chemistry is a wonderful healing magic.
[DEEP BREATHS] OK, perhaps a more readable telling of this chapter is in order. Please stand by.
DISCLAIMER:
My original and intended interpretation of the title "Nurse" is the Canadian (English Commonwealth) version, which is the respected front-line medical professional with the hands-on technical knowledge for dealing with patients and are the backbone of healthcare.
It has come to my attention that another, possibly American-centric view of "Nurse" is more about a sexy servant. While I think being a skilled professional is indeed sexy, I did not mean to conjure images of tight white costumes as being the primary element of the description.
The Beginning
We met online, and chatted, and things ticked along in a pleasant way. So pleasant that we agreed to meet in person...
The First-First Date
The day after arranging to meet the next Sunday - 6 days away, The Nurse pinged me to say that she was having a rough afternoon and wondered if I would be interested in meeting for a drink.
Hell yes, I would be.
As is my modus operandi, I suggest the slow-paced low-threat experience of a McMenamins. Well, that was what we defaulted to, after the place she had suggested turned out to be closed. Being me, I showed up slightly on the early side. So I got to watch her manifest in person from the awkward position of being seated at a bench watching the door. She was visible through the window stalking in a purposeful fashion up to the entrance, and once inside she spotted me and sashayed over to claim a greeting hug. Impression #1: brash.
Before she had arrived, she had given me instructions for a drink she would appreciate having waiting for her, which I had fumbled my way through with the bartender. She sank into the oppose bench, and thanked me wholeheartedly for the drink. Impression #2: knows what she wants.
Part of the reason for this surprise early encounter was that she had a hard afternoon. And she opened up about her current life in a very disarming and honest way. Which lead me to reflect a similar set of insights about my life. This lead her to the reactions of, "holy shit: you're a hot mess" quickly followed by "we're going to stay just friends for a while". Which stung to be friendzoned so immediately, but I had a profound respect in both her insight and her candour. The friendzoning typically happens after an interminable phase of hopefulness, and I had been chafing on that prospect.
Even so, we hung out and laughed and had a great conversation. And, at least from my side, there was definitely a big, fat spark that I could feel. I really liked her.
The Late-Night Embrace
We've been texting non-stop, which I adore. And a couple nights later, while I'm alone at the Chestnut house with the kids, she's been out with her crew and overcome with a need to be held. To which I remark that not only do I have an ongoing deficit of being-held-ness, that I would gladly give her a friendzone-class hug.
So she catches a Lyft from where he crew is disbanding, and pauses by the Chestnut house out on the street. I go out, say hi, and give her a good hug.
My fields of expertise are almost entirely outside the realm of physiology, but based on that hug I have a deep and profound appreciation for the existence of human pheromones. It was a very, very good hug.
When we pulled apart breathlessly, we mutually agreed that the friendzone depended on her leaving immediately. After she was safely ensconced in another Lyft, we frantically texted each other "holy shit". "Yeah, we have to be mindful of that. Streetfucking could totally have happened there." "Yup!"
And I made the first entry on this page. "Um. WOW."
The Bike Ride
The modality of our texting took on a new dimension of accommodating our chemistry, while also trying to mindfully navigate the potential hot mess aspect. The Nurse suggested that we wait to even kiss until we had done something more substantial together - like, say, a bike ride. Obviously, I immediately arranged for our upcoming nominal "first date" to be a bike ride - borrowing Gnarthaller's spare bike and the GarTaco.
For the sake of keeping it moderate, we went on the beginner route I usually ride with Simon. It's pretty out in the woods, and there is no denying the thrill of flowing through the trees. Sweaty smiles were worn all the way back to the truck.
Then I asked her if I could kiss her. And she kissed me, enthusiastically. It turns out that enthusiasm for being physical with me is the "move directly to go, collect $200" aspect for me. I mean, it probably is for most people. It's just that I was still not used to it. It was amazing. I was hooked.
We gathered up our hungers, and went to have lunch... at another McMenamins. It seemed prudent to start discussing with some more clarity exactly what we were contemplating embarking on, and had the proper S.T.A.R.S. conversation. It's a little scary to talk directly about these important-but-taboo aspects of connecting with people, but we weathered it well. Until The Nurse discovered how recently I had had sex with the ex.
Which caught me off guard, because I didn't think it was objectively particularly recent. But the problem was that it was nominally after the decision to get divorced. The Nurse found herself terrified of the possibility of me ending back up with S. Her heart was broken, and wanted to flee. And I had to leave her alone. But we stayed in touch via text all that afternoon and evening, wrangling the fears and worries. And eventually, with care and compassion, she found the bravery in herself to try anyway. I drove over to her place for a reassuring hug and kiss, and mutual agreement on wanting to continue exploring a relationship.
And with my heart thuddering, I went back to my laptop and made the first update. I was in love already.
Exploring Our Fit
We did our best to take things as slow and mindfully as possible. This was based partially on her fear of breaking her heart, but mostly based on my awkward acclimation of being free to become connected in this way.
It was beautiful.
We found ways to be together as much as possible, and had adventures. And were able to support each other, though the roller-coaster that is life's cruel joking way. And, holy tapdancing fuck, the sex. The raw, brilliant enthusiasm of it. And the delicate patience of it. Honestly, the relationship would have been completely satisfactory with just the sex. But it was so, so much more.
The Middle
The core aspect of the middle of our relationship was the concept of "having each other's back". For me because trust an intrinsic part of who I am and what I need; for her because she was starving for the ability to trust.
So we were naturally intertwined in every aspect we had room to allow. Long breakfasts in each other's arms, and countless walks with hands seeking each others. Late nights watching movies and tv shows laughing with each other, and finding ways to dine despite our mutual disdain of cooking. At every opportunity there was tenderness and reassurance. We were often busy with our separate over-full lives, and were patient with for each other.
A conversation of what we wanted of our shared future ran as a connecting thread through the months. It was an alternating scope of ambitious his-and-hers Porsches parked in luxury condominium, or simple pragmatism for whatever means necessary to focus on our loved ones and adventures we wanted to share.
She wanted more than I felt safe with - both in terms of plans and promises. But I love her and I trusted her, and it felt right to be brave and try. Spontaneous adventures to meet her family? Of course! Potential co-habitation? Yes, that would be smart and I grew to fantasize about never having to be apart. Blending our families? Yes, she had charmed me with tales of her crew, and I deeply wanted my children to meet this fierce-and-loving lioness. Matching tattoos? What the hell - I even designed something based on some of our secret love language. Marriage? Despite being previously sure I would never want such a thing again, I could not deny how much the idea was a warm spark that my fears could not extinguish.
The... Friend?
Then the accord faded away. Despite my ardent efforts, she simply grew too busy to spare time with me. My heart ached for weeks and weeks as I tried to just be patient and supportive. But when she finally asked me to come by, to tell me that she couldn't do it any more, I knew it in my bones before she even spoke. I hugged her hard one last time before she could speak.
And then she threw me back.
There are good, sensible reasons to explain it. I wish I could believe them.
I can feel this new-unchoosing aching through the seams of my kintsugi. The doubts make for dark reckoning of self-esteem. But the ultimate truth is that the pain is merely proportional to how important she is to me.
We assured each other that we still love each other, and that we need to remain friends - because of how much we matter to each other. Time will tell, but I will never forget her.