I Am Absolutely Certain, Without a Doubt, That “The Doc” Loves Me! I Think…

(Head-up….this was from a draft I had written a long time ago but never published.  The below story happened in MAY! Much has happened with The Doc and I since, but I had to get you caught up on a very important evening…)

Sigh.

I saw The Doc again.

I debated writing this blog because whatever unfolds from our interactions is always SO REAL and SO DEEP that it’s almost too hard to write about. But nonetheless…

It’d been a few months since we last saw each other.  That was after I politely told him to stop contacting me.  His random messages of “What’s up babe?” on any given Wednesday but with no follow through or plans to see me was too much for me to handle, so I thought “Outta sight, outta mind” should do the trick.  I needed to move on.  He had politely agreed, and didn’t argue.

For two months straight I tried my best to forget about him.

I failed miserably.

The Doc is EVERYWHERE and never far from my mind, as hard as I try:

I drive past a hospital or pharmacy – I think of him.

I hear a reference to Belize – I think of him.

Someone plays a reggae song – I think of him.

I travel to Terranea Resort – I think of him.

I meet someone from USC – I think of him.

I’m breathing – I think of him.

See? Bad.  I’d want to reach out but never did.

But then I got this freaking kidney stone thing that landed me in the ER and the whole fiasco really, really made me miss him.  And it gave me a really, really good reason to reach out to him.

So, naturally, I did.

I emailed him, gave him a quick run down of what landed me in the hospital, and told him I’d love his feedback and opinion on whether or not I should take these two prescriptions they gave me. (I hate taking pills, if I can help it.)

He emailed back right away and said he was leaving for the airport for a meeting but that he’d call me when he got back later that night.

He did call.

He was meeting his boys to play basketball so he only had a few minutes, but he gave me great feedback and said we’d catch up more later.

A few text convos and a week or so later happened.

Fast forward…

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to a second date I had planned with Mr. Marketing.  As much as The Doc is…well, my unavailable soulmate in scrubs, I am also a very realistic person and am seeing and meeting other great guys.

Unfortunately, Mr. Marketing cancelled our plans due to family stuff that afternoon. Jerk! Dang it!

I was bummed.  Kinda sad, actually.  And I hate getting cancelled on last minute.

Actually, I’m being dramatic.  For two seconds I was sad.

I read his cancellation text and then immediately text The Doc.

“Happy Saturday!”

He responds right back.

“Happy Saturday to you, too, sexy lady.  What’s up on your side?”

Success.

I already knew two things:

1. He wanted to see me.

2.  He wasn’t busy that night.

Sure enough, I was right.  I really know this man.

Later that night, I brought myself and a tasty 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon over to his place.

cabernet-sauvignon-2009

I pull into his garage and recall how perfect our cars fit in there next to each other.  He’s in there doing laundry, which I can say is probably even MORE perfect of a scenario.

He gives me a huge, big hug and kiss on the neck.  His smile is enormous.  I’m sure mine’s bigger.  I’m SO excited to see him.

We make our way upstairs and he breaks open the wine.

The mood is light, flirtacious, fun.  It’s us.  It’s always exciting and we both haven’t stopped smiling or laughing for a good 10 minutes now.

He asks me what happened to my plans that night and I tell him (vaguely) that “…people cancelled and wanted to re-schedule…”

“People?” he asks, coyly, as he smiles a knowing smile.

“Ok,” I say. “One person in particular.”

I shake my head, he smiles, and we both know there are others involved here but that it was working out for the better with the two of us right in this moment.

I’ve always loved our honesty.

We catch up.  He tells me I look good, despite the kidney stone nonsense, and I get scolded for not drinking enough water.  He’s always giving me loving medical advice.

He tells me his cousin says hi.
I want to tell him to give his cousin my number so i can tell him to knock some sense into The Doc and wake up and smell the coffee here and realize I’m the perfect woman for him, but I don’t.  I just smile and think it’s special he mentioned that.

And then he tells me that he’s looking to buy another house in Belize.

“What?!?!” I shrieked.

To catch you up on something – he was against another bidder on a property there about 6 months ago, but he lost.  When he called me to tell me that he didn’t get it, I told him he lost that house because of fate.  I wasn’t in on it with him, and that we should buy our dream house there together. I was half-serious, and I’m sure he thought it was cute.

I told him I didn’t want to hear about this new one.

“Why not?” he asks.  “Because you’re not in on it with me?” He smiles.

Ah ha! He remembered.

Honestly, I can see this picture of us living in paradise painted so clearly in my head that I don’t want to hear about it unless it’s going to happen. So I ask him one question:

“You can tell me about it but ONLY if the answer to this question is “yes”…

“Ok, shoot,” he says.

“Will I ever see this house with my own eyes?”

And without missing a beat, he says, “Sure! Why not?”

I get all serious and say, “Yeah, ok. Whatever.  I don’t invite myself to places that I’m not wanted…”

He corrects me.  He’s serious, too.  “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

We’ll see.

Anyways, he tells me about this amaaazing property on the tropical blue waters of the Caribbean Sea.  I picture him, me and a hammock and I go into dreamland again.  This fairy tale is amazing, isn’t it?

Back to reality…

We talk for another hour cuddled up on the love seat, have the TV on in the background, laugh, catch up on work and careers, and finish the bottle of wine.

It’s getting late now.  Time to go to sleep.

We head upstairs, a now familiar trek. I mean, we’ve known each other for awhile now.

Sorry to let down you about any juicy, racy, sexy details, but the rest of the night is literally a PG situation – we sleep/cuddle and nothing else.  About 90% of the night he’s spooning me.  He’s even affectionate in his sleep! Perfection.

I wake up early in the AM to the sound of my phone buzzing.  It’s a new message on OkCupid.

The Doc is turned over and snoring.

I check it, cuz, hey why not.

Side note: At this point, for those of you following this never-ending love story of The Doc and I who are all like, “What the heck is she doing?? Why’s she holding out for this dude? He’s clearly not into her the same way…” Well, just hold it one hot second.

I’m not in my 20s anymore.  I’ve worked in the dating and relationship space for years and know many former clients or friends who are relationship experts, authors, speakers, therapists and more.  I’ve learned a ton and feel pretty healthy in my choices.

Besides, if I WAS all into him (and only into him) I wouldn’t have been excited to check my dating app notifications while snuggled under his 1200 thread-count sheets while he slept beside me.  :) I’m optimistic, yet realistic.  Big difference.

I check the message.  It’s from a new guy.  Cool.

I also check my texts.  More late night messages from others who are pursuing me.  Cool, but I don’t respond.

The Doc is still sleeping but I do kinda have a guilty conscience so I put my phone back on the bedside table.  They all can wait.

I’m fully awake now and it’s about 8am on a Sunday.  No going back to sleep for me, so I lay there and look around.  His master bedroom suite is so familiar to me and I’m always amazed at how neat and orderly it is.

The pile of books on his bedside table include “The 5 Love Languages” and “What On Earth Am I Here For?” by Rick Warren.

I know what he’s here for!!!!

Unbeknownst to him, the answer is clearly for him to find me, fall in love and live happily ever after.

I’m WISHING that it said that on page 42 or something and all he’d have to do is stumble across it eventually.

But it doesn’t, so I’m left to let the Big Man Upstairs handle the timing or outcome on this one.

An hour or so passes by and FINALLY he stirs awake.

He leans over and kisses me gently on my head.

“Good morning.”

I smile.

I tell him “Hi…” and that I should get going soon.

Honestly, I have no plans, but never want to overstay my welcome, and also I recall him saying he had plans to meet his mom for lunch. #perfectson

But I did not expect what would happen next to happen.

For the next THREE HOURS, we laid in bed and talked.
(TALKED, people! I swear to goodness.)

He didn’t want me going anywhere.  I was officially trapped on this cloud.

But seriously, the stuff we talked about was deep.  It was real.

Real deep.

It didn’t start off that way.  In fact, it was our usual catching up conversations.

Conversations that couples have on lazy Sunday mornings who are conquering life together, as a team.

He caught me up on his work, his less-than-amazing boss, his recent accomplishments and his busy travel schedule lately.  Meetings, conferences, speaking engagements. He’s killing it out there.

I’m so proud of this guy.  He’s a star at his company and is looked to for knowledge and expertise that guys 20 years older don’t have.  His intelligence, drive and ambition is one of the most sexy things about him to me.

The hours tick by and we’re still cuddling and talking in bed.

We’re both in the comfortable space we’ve become accustomed to.  He stops for a moment, kissses my forehead and says..

“Hey.  Don’t ever stop talking to me like you did again, ok?”

He’s kinda sad, definitely serious.

The Doc has actually communicated something that he wants from me.  Fascinating.

I feel bad now that I did spend the last few months ignoring him and cutting off all communication.  I guess the guy noticed.

I agree and tell him I’m sorry and then tell him that as hard as I FRICKIN’ TRIED, I couldn’t stop thinking about him during that time anyways.  My plan had backfired.

Then The Doc tells me I’m never far from his mind.  He’s always thinking of me and praying for me and wishing me the best.  Always.

Well, dangnabit.  I had no idea.

We end up basically professing love for each other.

Not the “Let’s-get-married-tomorrow” kind of love, but the “We-really-care-about-the-lives-of-each-other-here” kind of love.  It’s one I’ve not ever experienced.

And yes, it’s not the one I’m exactly looking for, either.

I do feel amazing, however, and protected and special, and….loved, in this moment.  I try to hold onto it for as long as possible, knowing that as soon as I get up out from under the crisp white down comforter we share, it’ll be back to reality.

And back to my OkCupid and Tinder messages.

Strangely enough, I’ve come to appreciate both situations.

We spend a bit more time together in bed (still only a PG situation) and then it’s time for me to leave.

As I head to my car in his garage, we’re both smiling.  He kisses me one last time, gives me another big hug and I’m on my way.

I drive all the way home with a smile….and a peace in my heart.

 

Mr. Architect – Will you build me a house?

Apparently Plenty of Fish (POF) doesn’t let you send someone a message if you haven’t at least uploaded one picture of yourself first.  THIS kind of a rule is amazing.   Online dating is so much better when there’s pics.

Yet Mr. Architect found this out the hard way when he came across my profile and immediately wanted to contact me.  (He later tells me how and why he initially reached out.)

Seeing as how he’s a very private guy, he didn’t want to upload any pictures.  However, he saw me and wanted to contact me, so up a picture went.

Operation: Talk To This Girl, began.

First, he added me as a Favorite.

I ignored it.

Big deal.  Tons of people add me as a favorite, but never do anything beyond that.  Plus, your profile’s pretty blank, dude.  Not interested.

A few days pass.  He then sent me a message:

“Good morning…”

That was it.

So, naturally, I ignored it, also.

Not because I’m a snob, but if that’s all you’re going to give me in your first message, I’m not interested.  It’s not my job to create your profile (or conversation) FOR you!

Besides, after the hundredth first-ever message from guys like: “Hi.” “Hey there.” “What’s up?” “Hey beautiful.” “How are you?” ….I want to stab my eye with a pencil. Where’s the originality?!

Points for someone who knows how to communicate! Yes, even online, it’s a stretch nowadays, and someone who can string together more than two original sentences is already sexier than the other “Hi” guy. Ugh.  Kill me.

A few days later, this guy who had actually listed his profession on his very limited profile as “Sales Professional”, decided to give it one more shot.

He finally sends:

“Hello,

You’re gorgeous and I think you’re just stunning! And I’m sure you’re bright and put together as well, and I would love to talk sometime, or if you’re up for it, even meet……I’m a 6’4″ architect ~ funny, bright, cool laid-back guy who is also very fit.

You can check me out via my website (insert his company website here) and or contact/email me on FB.

Cheers,
(insert his first initial, last initial here)”

NOW we’re talking! I loved the extra info. And a girl LOVES to hear she’s stunning and beautiful.

I was listening…

I loved the mini-pitch of who he is (an architect, huh?), and that he gave me extra links to look up (ie – stalk) him online.

Winning!

So, naturally, I stalk.

Before I even consider responding, I jump to his website.

Oh! Very nice! I see pics of his portfolio from some projects he’s worked on and I’m immediately impressed.  I see the same picture he’s uploaded to his POF profile under the “About Us” tab for his Residential Design firm.  A lengthy bio explains not only who he is, but that he specializes in the Classical tradition, with special emphasis on American renaissance period between 1880 – 1930.  He’s LEGIT!

I remember that I had listed “Interior Design” as one of my interests on my POF profile, because this stuff fascinates me.  I’m immediately intrigued.

So then I stalk him on Facebook, and after jumping over to my FB app to type in his name, I find we already have 10 friends in common here in Los Angeles.  Whoa! That’s gotta be a good thing, right?

So I respond to this very patient man’s message and let him know how glad I was that I didn’t have to stab my eye with a pencil (j/k).

I loved his note, told him I was interested and then gave him my digits.

I ended my note with:

“PS – If this works out, will you build me a house?”

Joking, of course, and a few hours later I receive a text from him.  He announces who he is and that yes, if this works out, he’ll build me a house. :)

I smiled, took a quick trip down Fantasy Lane to pick out some fabulous drapes, beautiful paint choices and shiny slabs of granite, and then went about my business.

Next step: a phone call. After that? A date…

I’m a Sucker For a Suit

Last night I was invited to a fashion show. My friend’s clothing line for kids was being featured on the runway and she offered me a ticket.

The show was great and afterwards we mingled with others at the VIP cocktail reception.

My friend introduces me to two gentleman she had met earlier – both wearing suits.

Now in LA, it’s RARE to see a man in a suit. The lifestyle is so casual here that it’s not unusual to see someone in jeans on the red carpet. Dressing up is an exception in Los Angeles so I looooooove seeing a man in a suit. (Blame my lawyer ex-husband who got me hooked on picking out ties. My weakness.)

In LA,  if a guy’s in a suit, he’s either a banker, a lawyer or lives in Beverly Hills. Just my experience. :)

Sure enough, this one guy I had my eye on lives in Beverly Bills.

We chat, we flirt, we play the “guess my age” game with all four of us and then clink our glasses together to “cheers” to us all looking wayyyyyy younger than our actual ages. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for the good genes.

I’m loving that this one guy is 49, but looks and acts like he’s in his 30s.  I love he’s from the Dominican Republic but raised in New York and an NYU grad.  Oh. And that he’s wearing a suit and tie ensemble that probably cost that of a good mortgage payment. I’m not mad.

My friend tells the two guys what I do for a living and Mr. Armani asks me if I also freelance on the side. I tell him I do sometimes and he wants my card. Awesome. He gives me his.

We talk more about us both being single parents, how much we love our kids and what position my son plays in football.

The time passes, we’re having great banter and we kinda drift a few feet over to have a more private conversation. He tells me stories of what REALLY happened with Kobe Bryant and his scandal,  what his famous actor friend (who he won’t share his name) gave him for his 47th birthday, and a few of the film and charity projects he’s involved in.  So Hollywood.

We’re chatting and laughing away and then the shocking moment of the night happens. He says something about being in trouble as a kid and I laugh and say I was grounded my whole childhood, too. He just looks at me and says, “I know you were.”

Um, excuse me? You weren’t there. How did you know that? We just met! What the what?

He answers, “OH, come on. You’re a rebel. It’s all in your eyes…..”

Dang! I’m so busted here, because it’s partly true, although I’ve been playing the professional, classy woman role all night. People tell me all the time I have these eyes…but how do they see this stuff??

I’m literally shocked, and smiling, ask how he could possibly know that (all the while maintaining my innocence).

“Please, I read you like a book right away. What’s that line in Jerry Maguire?…. Oh yeah, you had me at hello.” :)

I’m now blushing yet intrigued and luckily his friend walks over to say he’s got to get going.

Mr. Armani and him came together so he gives me a hug and asks what I’m doing this weekend. He tells me we should get together, and since I live just down the street from him it’d be easy to do. He tells me his travel plans for the next week and says we’ll figure something out. I tell him that’d be great. And they head out.

So now I wait for him to be a man and make a move. Yes, I’ll wait – not with baited breath, but with a vision of me strolling through his walk-in closet….full of ties. :)

Facebook Is a Snitch (upDATE: Mr. Can I Get A Vowel)

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve turned into a Private Investigator and gone to social media to find somebody to stalk,… err, I mean, look at.

We all do it.

And with new dates popping up faster than the Orville Redenbacker popcorn machine at the movie theater, I’ve got to find extra info on these boyz STAT, yo!

Remember Mr. Can I Get A Vowel?

Well thank goodness he’s missing a vowel in how to spell his name cuz he was the ONLY guy on Facebook that came up in my search. How convenient!

He’s still texting me everyday, calling me “baby” (Btw, what is that with guys? I’m not your baby until we’re exclusive! Do you know how many people’s “baby” I am?? It’s getting watered down.  Ugh.), and he’s tried to see me again (I already had plans that night) .

Let’s see what this guy’s REAL story is…

His profile? Pretty barren and locked down. Most recent profile pic was from 2011, and it was one of the same ones from his dating profile.

I couldn’t see or learn anything else, really. I flipped through a few old pics in an album on the red carpet with his brother, the guy in the NBA. Meh. Whatevs. Nothing too shocking. No women in his pix, just a bunch of guy friends. He still looks good, though.

But THEN… I see it.

A picture on his timeline from 2011, a selfie of a woman he had tagged as “my friend.”

She’s a pretty Asian girl and right away I remember him saying on our first date that he has a crazy, Asian ex. Whatever that means.

So naturally I click through to her profile and lo and behold, her current default profile pic is both her AND Mr. Can I Get A Vowel all hugged up together.

Further, her cover photo is of him and her at a zoo.

Busted.

I dig deeper to find the dates these pics were taken. Turns out, it was awhile ago but she had just re-uploaded them a few weeks back. I can read a public comment thread and see her tell her aunt who commented on how cute they are together that she “loves him very much!”

Hmmm.

Either they just broke up recently and she’s not quite ready to let go of their 3+ year relationship, or they’re still together.

Either way, I ain’t the one!

Too messy. And as I told him, I’m looking for a more serious relationship. I couldn’t expect anyone to be ready to jump right back into one.

I ended up questioning him about it. He said he had already “explained” the situation me. (No, playa, you didn’t. I’m pretty sure I would have recalled that info.)

So I told him I ain’t the one, and he said he wishes me the best and that I deserve the best.

Yes. Yes, I do.

Vanna, out.

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