I Thought He Was the One That Got Away

The lease for my starter place in Delray Beach, Florida was up on Sunday, so I planned to spend the weekend moving. I didn’t ask anyone for help in classic Virgo (and Claire) fashion. When I moved to The Sunshine State from the Land of 10,000 Lakes, I only brought the things that fit in my car (and I drive a compact car, for the record). How much stuff could I have accumulated in six months? Certainly not enough to rely on another human to do what I could do just fine. The task was turning out to be bigger than anticipated, and I was starting to stress the fuck out. I had already made three trips in my car and had so much stuff left to move. There was always something else to grab at the store, and cleaning was taking twice as long as I thought. 

I sighed, then set my shoulders straight, gearing up to give myself a pep talk. “Okay, Claire.” A self-pep talk must be done out loud. “You gotta go in order of most important things — the stuff you’ll need first, like bathroom crap. Then -”

My phone interrupted my inspirational strategizing with a text:

Hey, stranger

“Daniel?” We met at a bar and had a strange night together over a month ago. We’d texted a little the next day, but there'd been nothing once he returned to his home two hours away on the other side of Florida. I got deep in my feelings, but not because of the lack of communication— that had barely registered with me. He was my first one-night stand, which is probably strange considering I was 36. Everyone acted like casual sex was no big deal and normal. If that was true, why did I feel so conflicted about it? What was wrong with me? I’d shut my phone off and isolated myself from the outside world, letting my hyper-critical overthinking consume me (so very Virgo). After two days, a couple of friends from yoga class came to my place and banged on my door. I promised not to go full hermit again. 

And now, Daniel was texting me… so maybe it wasn’t a one-night stand anymore, and all my feelings of shame were unnecessary? 

The only way to respond to a “hey, stranger” text is with “hey there.” He told me he was in Fort Lauderdale for the weekend and invited me to hang out. I scanned the boxes that needed to be unpacked and the stacks of clothes begging to be organized. I ran through a mental checklist of what was left to bring to my new place. Magically, twenty more carloads seemed much more manageable than a few moments ago. I agreed to meet him. Sweaty with no makeup and jacked-up hair, I had some serious glamourizing to do. And unexpectedly, some packing.

“Bring a swimsuit and an outfit for the beach tomorrow.” He instructed. “And maybe something to wear out for dinner.” 

I moved at lightning speed, but he was impatient. 

What’s taking so long? You’re shaving, aren’t you?

OMG I am not

 (I so was)

I threw on a simple baby blue ribbed midi dress, hastily packed, and drove to meet Daniel at his friend’s place. 

He came outside to meet me.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He smiled at me like I was a Christmas tree surrounded by a mountain of presents with his name on all of them. He was handsome as fuck in a fitted T-shirt with sculpted, tan biceps I just wanted to touch. 

“You invited me.” I giggled nervously. 

“But I still can’t believe it.” He put his hands on my hips and eyed me up and down like he was trying to decide which present to open first. “Let’s get your bag and go inside. Jared’s not home right now.”

“That’s probably good.” I met Jared the same night as Daniel. Jared had been into me and was pissed that I only had eyes for Daniel. “Is Jared gonna be mad that I’m here?” 

“No. He’s dating this girl now. He’ll be fine.” 

Once inside, Daniel pulled me into his arms and kissed me. There was an unexpected desire and longing in his kiss. Holy shit. He’s happy to see me. 

“What’s wrong?” He stopped. “You seem tense.”

“No.” I gave a shaky breath out. “I’m-, I just wasn’t expecting to see you again.” Omg what the fuck am I saying?  

“Why didn’t you text me?”

“What was I supposed to say?” I scrunched my face at him. It’s not like we’re neighbors and could just meet up. 

“Hey, stranger.” He gave me a crooked smile. “Just like I did.”

“Well… hey, stranger.” The corner of my mouth curved up to mirror his smile.

He bit his lip and smirked. “Hey there,” he whispered against my lips. Then he grabbed my hair, tilted my head back, and kissed me in a way that made me grateful his muscular arms held me so tight because my knees were untrustworthy. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

A little later, I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for my legs to stop shaking to take on the arduous task of standing up. Damn. He was really happy to see me. His excitement was way more than I expected, and I couldn’t understand it.

“What have you been up to? Gone on any dates?” He came out of the bathroom. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Here.” I tossed it to him. “No dates, but I’ve been talking to one guy.” 

“And he hasn’t taken you out?”

“No. Seems like he only wants a pen pal. It’s weird.” 

“That is fucking weird. Why are you still talking to him?”

I shook my head. “I dunno. It’s sort of amusing, I guess.” 

“Sounds like a waste of time. Let’s go get a drink.” 

We took the golf cart to an Italian restaurant. My body was sitting at a table on the outdoor patio, drinking wine with Daniel, but my mind was in a panic room. I made no effort to stay in touch with Daniel and instead kept communicating with a guy who was lazy af. Why? As if on cue, a text came through my pen pal. I smiled as I read the text. 

Daniel’s voice interrupted me.

“Who are you texting? Is it that guy?” 

“He just texted me.” I shrugged.

“You are actually texting him while you’re out with me?” His raised eyebrows screamed, “Fucking really?” at me.

Oh shit. Does he want to actually date me? Is that why he’s so excited to see me? “I didn’t respond.” I slipped my phone in my purse. “Nor am I going to because I’m with you.” 

“Okay.” He was still pouting. I spent the rest of the evening trying to sweeten his sour disposition. My phone remained hidden in the depths of my purse. I went out of my way to ask Daniel about his daughter, family, and work. He was happy to answer but didn’t reciprocate. He finally lightened up after some heavy PDA that was more fitting for two people totally in puppy love rather than two people who had a drunken hook-up.

I woke up early the next morning. Daniel was total shit at snuggling, so I laid wide awake, staring at the ceiling while he slept with his back facing me. Without any warm fuzzy cuddles clouding my brain with dopamine, my thoughts got on a more stressy train. I moved all the bathroom stuff yesterday, so I’ll do clothes and office things next. I need to put my new desk together before Monday. What time was that Zoom? Shit. I need to check my calendar. I looked over at Daniel. He was in a deep sleep, which could last for hours more. There was no way I could stay in bed doing nothing for hours, waiting for him to wake up, especially when I had so much to do.

I decided to leave. 

“Hey.” I gently shook his shoulder. I had already stealthily dressed and packed my bag. “I gotta get going.”

“What time is it?” he grumbled from the depths of the pillow his face was smushed into. 

“Seven thirty.” 

“Oh my God, go back to sleep.”

“I’m moving this weekend, remember? I have a lot to do.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t hire someone. That’s so dumb.” 

“Well, I didn’t.” I sighed. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk later.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to go out again tonight.” 

“If you want to do something more low-key, you can come to Delray.”

The half of his eye above the pillow looked me up and down. “Yeah, that could be an option.”

“Okay, let’s talk later and figure it out. Get some rest.” 

We didn’t see each other that night or the rest of the weekend. After a couple of weeks of stilted text conversations, I grew frustrated. Why would he give me shit about not texting him and then be so short with his responses? Who has a hissy fit about another guy texting a girl they’re not even dating? It’s not like he had done anything to lock me down. Maybe he was mad about the text or the fact that I left. And how could he be mad I left to finish my move? Everyone knows moving is a royal pain in the ass. These thoughts ran like a news ticker in my mind for days. No matter how I broke it down, reanalyzed, and scrutinized the details, I kept reaching the same conclusion: I had fucked it up with a great guy. 

On a walk with my neighbor and friend, Isabel, I lamented about what a dumbass I had been about Daniel.

“Claire, I’m gonna tell you something.” Her arms pumped briskly, and she gazed ahead in concentration. “If you really liked that guy, you never would have left. Move or not.”

My brisk pace slowed as the weight of her words hit me. I suddenly remembered everything I didn’t like about Daniel, like his reaction when I told him I used to be a pharmacist. “You left all that behind? That’s so dumb.” Or even worse, his reaction to my leaving my marriage. “Wait. So you and your ex owned a fifty-foot boat, and you left? What’s wrong with you?”

The way Daniel stated his opinions and judgment as if they were facts bothered me, especially since many of his viewpoints were criticisms of how I lived my life. I didn’t want to try explaining myself only to end up frustrated and misunderstood. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of my ex-husband. And if I wanted to get petty (which, of course, I did), he had one of the stupidest tattoos I’d ever seen. What 41-year-old man still has their high school football number branded on them? I get he was young and dumb once, but not anymore! Get laser tattoo removal, or cover it up with something cooler. Not to mention, he owed me five orgasms, and I knew he was never going to pay up. 

I looked at Isabel. “You’re right. I don’t like Daniel. And I don’t care how much money he makes or how hot he is. He’s an asshole.”

“You didn’t screw up anything at all.” She smiled. “You’re good.” 

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “I am.”