#maybe someday I’ll meet someone in person from a dating app and they won’t go nope definitely not them

[themostfinalofpams]

Cockblocked by my anxiety once again

[retrievablememories]

matched | ten (m)

title: matched pairing: alien!ten x black!reader genre: sci-fi, angst, fluff, romance, smut summary: the quest for love leads you to a new dating app with a slight twist—and straight into the inbox of someone who’s light-years out of your usual dating pool. word count: 9.7k warnings: familial conflict, strained parental relationship, mentions of cheating, prejudice/discrimination based on species, body modifications/alien biology, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dom!ten, photography during sex, cumshot, squirting, some spanking a/n: as always, i lose all impulse control whenever i get a ten request so i have finished this sooner than i expected

i decided to lean more into the romance plotline than stress too much over the realism of the science-fiction elements with this fic, so there are some inaccuracies/impossibilities...but that’s fiction for you 🙃

AM 2074 (After Migration)

You are lonely.

Your last breakup did not end well, to say the least, and you haven’t dated for a while since then. It seemed like a smart move—a safe one—to shun all romantic relationships until you felt ready again. At the beginning, you were glad to be alone for a while, to regroup and rediscover yourself worrying about another person’s opinions on everything you did. To not have to deal with someone else’s drama.

The toll of not having companionship is gradually getting to you, though. Even if your last relationship was a mess more often than it wasn’t, you still long for those good moments, like going on night dates on the weekends and sharing pillowtalk into long hours of the early morning. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed those things until all the emotions of it crashed down on you at once.

Your friend Malika claims to have a solution for your loneliness. Now, sitting at this outdoor cafe, you’re simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear what she has to propose, knowing her track record for silly plots.

With twinkling eyes, she looks at you and says, “You should try a dating app.” She clasps her hands together and puts them on the table like she’s made a grand announcement. You absorb her words for a few moments, looking out at the street across from you and watching cars—some hovering above the asphalt, some driven autonomously, and many still with human drivers—pass by.

You eventually sigh, your shoulders slumping. “That’s the big solution you called me out here for? People have been using dating apps for decades, that’s nothing new.”

“Exactly! The fact that they’re still popular even in 2074 is proof that they work, Y/N. You can put yourself out there and talk to dozens of guys without even meeting them in person. If one connection doesn’t work out, you don’t have anything to lose, and you don’t have to see the guy ever again.”

“Maybe I’ll lose my sweet time and patience during the process, though.”

Malika shakes her head and types something into her hologram pad, then holds it up for you to see. The hologram displays a dating app called matched—it reminds you of what Tinder was supposedly like before it became eclipsed by more advanced platforms, though that happened years before you were even born. “This one is kinda new, but it’s gotten popular fast and has good success rates. I’ve tried it before and met some nice guys. Give it at least one chance before you hate on it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know...there are always so many weirdos hanging out on those apps. What if I meet someone who keeps a collection of severed alien tentacles in an icebox in their house? Like that one guy who showed up on the news?”

“...Really?” Malika rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Stop getting in your own way and just take a risk for once.”

You shake your head at her optimism. “I’ll do it because I know you won’t leave me alone about it, but don’t expect me to find some great love story on this app.”

--

Once you download the app and start making an account, it becomes pretty obvious that this isn’t just a regular dating platform.

Choosing your gender and age preferences is normal enough, and you pass through those screens quickly until you get to one that gives you two new options.

➤ Species Preference ❐ Human ❐ Extraterrestrial

Whoa. Aliens? An alien-friendly dating app?

You weren’t overly familiar with the mechanics of dating apps, and you certainly didn’t consider that ones allowing aliens might’ve existed until now. It had been 15 years since the first contact with aliens was established, and a little less than a decade had passed since aliens began migrating to Earth and taking up permanent residence—and vice versa.

Humans had little problem with accepting aliens’ technological adaptations and claiming them as their own, though they were far less welcoming of the aliens themselves. That resulted in strained interactions between the two species, with aliens trying their best to assimilate and humans questioning their every motive. As far as personal relationships went, interspecies mingling between humans and extraterrestrials was still fairly uncommon—something that only people who were considered to be on the fringes of society participated in. There were “normal citizens of society” who built relationships with aliens, but many of them also kept it solely as a kink or fetish to be done only in the dark.

You decide to check both options. It feels a little scary, like diving headfirst into the unknown, but you are open to it either way. You’ve interacted with aliens before, both as kind acquaintances and near strangers, and they’ve always been relatively normal in the grand scheme of things—beings trying to survive and make a life for themselves like anyone else. Certainly not plotting how to take over Earth as many people have speculated. If they really wanted to, they possess the technology to have done that ten times over already.

You take a while trying to come up with a clever bio and spend an even longer time mulling over which pictures of yourself to choose, but you eventually complete your profile.

The first few matches you make are not very successful.

Whether it’s human guys feeding you terrible pickup lines or alien guys who can’t make it past the language barrier—or who ask you to move back with them to their home planet after two days of talking—you don’t see any potential love interests during your first two weeks of using the app. 

You’re not sure what kind of skills Malika used to make multiple good matches, but maybe you need to interrogate her so you can sharpen your own. So you decide to do exactly that.

“Don’t give up on it just yet. Just be yourself—which also means not being afraid to cuss someone out if they come at you crazy. Some of these dudes lowkey like the mean girl shit, though, which is kinda weird.” Malika speaks from the shimmering translucent mirage of your hologram pad as you walk through the park one afternoon. She couldn’t make it out to meet you today, but you managed to snatch a moment to talk to her even if it couldn’t be face-to-face. “You probably shouldn’t expect to find a boyfriend in the first few days—”

“Girl, I don't think anyone was expecting that. Duh.”

“I’m saying, just give it time!”

“Okay, but listen. You didn’t tell me it’s also for aliens. Have you dated one before? You never told me!” You lower your voice then, not wanting anyone nearby to eavesdrop on your conversation and hear that part. You feel kinda bad for even thinking that way, but it’s hard to shake the stigma associated with interacting with aliens.

“Yes, and it was the best sex I ever had, but maybe I’ll tell you about that later.”

“Sis. Don’t withhold tea from me!”

“Someday when you’re not literally standing in the middle of the park, okay?” Malika shakes her head, smiling.

“Don’t forget about it, either.”

“I won’t. And you know what to do if you find a guy. I want to be the first to know!”

“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it, though.”

You decide to spend some more time on the app after that conversation instead of just deleting it like you’d planned to initially. And one day, you get another new match that catches your eye out of the many others.

“Ten? Like the number…?” Besides the interesting name, you immediately see that he’s an extraterrestrial. From the Sommu race, as it says in his bio.

You click on his profile.

You’re a little surprised by how pretty he is, which isn’t to say the other aliens you matched with were all hideous. But he doesn’t have tentacles coming out of his face or two sets of eyes, either. The most noticeable thing about his alienness is his blue skin.

“Likes...dancing, art, music, okay so we have an artist type here...dislikes...fruit. Huh. That’s...interesting.”

The pictures of him on his profile are all deliberately artistic, as in they aren’t just some half-baked selfies he took with a hologram pad. You grow increasingly curious. It’s safe to say he’s either super into himself or just appreciates the art of good photography, and you figure there’s only one way to find out. You decide to take the first step and message him.

➤ Nice pictures :) 

You don’t know when or if you’ll get a message back, since he’s not online when you send it, so you try not to get your hopes up too much. Maybe you should’ve tried to come up with something more cool and funny—nice pictures?—but you try to remember Malika’s advice and roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no point in getting stressed over a dude you don’t even know yet.

You eventually get a reply back from Ten.

➤ thank you 🙏 are you into photography too? you have talent for taking beautiful photos 

You giggle quietly to yourself; another line, but it’s definitely one of the tamer ones you’ve received. Why not see where this one goes?

The first conversation you have consists mostly of the regular getting-to-know-you talk, such as your personal interests and favorite things. You get him to talk more about his photography hobby, which he’s eager to tell you all about—as well as his penchant for art.

To your optimism, you and Ten quickly get comfortable with each other. You soon forget about all the other potential matches you have, but those don't matter much to you anymore. So far, you’ve connected the most successfully with Ten, which means you’re more than glad to stop spending your time reading boring messages from guys who’ve only pretended to have things in common with you.

Things go so well, in fact, that he asks you to meet in person not long after you begin talking to each other.

For your first meetup, you decide to meet at a park nearby—the same one you’d been walking through the day you were talking to Malika about that very dating app. You and Ten have talked through the hologram pad on multiple occasions, so you’re more reassured that you’re not starting from scratch with some faceless being. Still, the thrill of seeing each other in person for the first time is undeniable.

“Y/N?” You turn your head at the sound of your name, and you see Ten walking towards you.

“Ten!” You give him a smile, waving at him. You feel a little more nervous than you usually would on a date, though you can’t tell if it’s the good kind of nervousness. You mostly chalk it up to not having been out with anyone in a while.

Ten’s just as pretty up close as he was in the photos and on camera, if not even more attractive; he’s breathtaking in the light of the sun. His hair is styled nicely, meticulously-place strands curling over his forehead, and his clothes perfectly outline his slim body. He looks pleased to see you, his lips curving into a coy smile.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” he says as he outstretches his arms to you. You hug him, but not without a questioning glance on your face. He is warm and smells good, like juniper, which almost makes you forget about your question.

“Warned you about what?”

“How you’re even more beautiful in person.” He says this at your ear before pulling away, and it makes the back of your neck bloom with heat.

“Oh, you’re laying it on thick.” You giggle nervously, shifting on your feet.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes, let’s go!”

You leave the park to go to an aquarium nearby, which is the biggest one in the city. You find out quickly that Ten is easily fascinated by the wide range of creatures there. Despite living on Earth for a few years now, he hasn’t seen a lot of them until now.

You walk through the blue-lit hallways together, surrounded by water everywhere you turn. You observe the different animals up close and from far away, reading information about them from the signs beside their tanks.

“What the hell is that?” Ten says through laughter, looking at the squished-up mouth of a stingray as it floats in front of the glass, baring its pale underside to you both.

“It’s a stingray!”

He scrunches his nose up. “It’s ugly. But kinda cute, too…”

You both end up staying at the aquarium longer than you expected, with Ten wanting to see practically every animal they had on display; plus, you got to see some you weren’t familiar with before either.

After visiting the aquarium, you go downtown—which is otherwise known as food truck central, where you can get pretty much anything you’re craving. This area is always quite busy this time of evening, especially on the weekends. Food in hand, you and Ten end up walking through a few of the quieter back streets where there’s not as many people—streets where the closely-packed buildings give way to the grassy yards and paved roads of nearby neighborhoods.

“Should we talk about our families now, or is it too soon?” you say jokingly. “You know, that seems to be the only thing we haven’t mentioned after talking about everything else under the sun.” You’re not entirely sure why you bring this up while knowing your own relationship with your parents isn’t great, but you are curious to hear about Ten’s family.

“I don’t really know mine,” he replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feel a little bad about it, thinking there was definitely a reason why he never mentioned the topic.

Ten looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. Sommu never form close bonds with their parents or siblings.”

You give him a curious look. “Why not?”

“Well, we aren’t born or raised the human way,” he explains. “Our parents have a bunch of us at once, raise us for the first couple of years, and then go off to reproduce again and continue the population.”

You’re startled at that. “Just for a few years? How do you survive?”

“We age faster...both physically and mentally. We become independent around 4 or 5 years old, and we can live without our parents.”

“That’s...definitely very different.” You try to wrap your mind around that information, though it’s difficult. Even with your not-so-healthy relationship with your parents, you couldn’t imagine having no family whatsoever at such a young age. You also can’t even begin to comprehend what it’d look like to be taking care of yourself at only 5 years old, fast aging or not. “But, you said a bunch at once...how is that possible?”

“We are formed inside things like eggs. It’s not like your form of childbirth. See?” And you become flustered when he lifts his shirt up to show his lack of a belly button, right there in the middle of the street.

“Uh, wow.”

“The human concepts of ‘family’ and ‘relationships’ are...very new to me.” He seems a little embarrassed to admit this. “That’s why I, um, joined a dating app, for more experience...I was told I need to learn to be more…” He searches for the word. “Im...pertinent?”

“...Empathetic?”

“Yeah, that.”

“So, did that come from a previous partner, or…?”

“Yeah, I’ve had two relationships since I’ve been here.” He seems wistful now, maybe a little sad. “They didn’t work out well. Maybe we were too different.” Before the mood can shift too far into negativity, Ten turns to you with a soft smile. “But maybe that’s not the kind of thing you want to hear while we’re on a date.”

You shake your head and smile. “I don’t mind, it’s interesting to know about.” More than interesting. You want to ask him a hundred more things about what his life was like when he first got to Earth. “Anyway, you can never have too many new starts in life. Let’s enjoy this one.”

--

At the end of your date, Ten walks with you back to your place. It’s almost midnight at this point, with you both walking all the way back from downtown. You’d drawn more than a few skeptical stares over the course of the day, but you both did your best to ignore those and just focus on each other.

“I’m really glad we got to go out today, it was fun,” you say, hugging your arms to yourself to shield against the cool spring breeze.

“I think I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” he agrees. Ten smiles wide then, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, and you have to do a double take. 

“What—”

“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget everyone doesn’t have this...” And when he sticks his tongue out, you see clearly now that it’s split halfway down the middle. Sort of like how a snake’s would be. “D’you like it?” His expression is wicked when he asks this, and a strange heat sweeps through your body.

“Wow.” You cringe at your lackluster answer, but that’s the only thing you can muster up at the moment, too busy internally questioning yourself. You’ve seen body modders with split tongues in documentaries and on the internet, but it’s never appealed to you like this before, and you don’t know what to do with that new realization.

“It’s okay, it takes some getting used to.” He gives you a smile that might be called innocent by anyone else, but to your eyes it’s quite obvious he’s proud about making you flustered.

“Getting used to...yeah, I’m sure.” There are about 15 different questions you want to ask him about that, too, but you aren’t going there on the first date.

“So...can I expect to see you again?”

“Of course.” You smile again at the hopeful note in his tone. “Just let me know whenever you want to go out again.”

Before Ten leaves, he places a hand on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. It’s a simple and short kiss, but it still makes you blush beneath your brown skin.

You wave goodbye to him from your doorstep as he goes, feeling like you’ve finally done something right for the first time in a long time.

You’d taken a chance with dating an extraterrestrial, someone so different from yourself and your species, and you figured it would be a new experience. Obviously. What you did not bet on, however, was the idea that you’d fall for Ten so fast.

After three months of dating exclusively, you feel like you could say you love him, which is frighteningly quick for you; though you don’t tell him this yet.

You’ve decided to bring him to meet your family. The idea frightens you, because your parents have never been very receptive to the aliens’ migration. But you are still holding out some hope that maybe they’ll realize all their assumptions were wrong, and that you’ve found a nice man who you love and who you’re sure loves you just as much. Whether he’s human or not shouldn’t matter.

You manage to set a date when all your schedules match up so you can bring Ten over to your parent’s house. Ten is nervous—more nervous than he was when you went on your first date—which you find a little surprising. You’ve gotten used to him being the one who you can lean on, who always seems to know the right answer.

“Do you think it will go well?” he asks, his tone implying he’s not confident of the answer.

“I hope so.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring and squeeze his hand.

When your parents open the door, there’s visible surprise on their faces. You’d already told them your boyfriend was not human, which drew doubtful responses when you first said it, but they’re acting as if they never knew that information—as if this is the first time they’re seeing an alien, period.

“Um…hi, mom, dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ten says, though his own tone is overly formal, like he doesn’t know how he should speak. “I’m Ten.”

Your parents pause for a few moments longer. Finally, the awkward quiet is broken. “We thought you were just messing,” your dad says, though he steps out of the way to let you both come in, if a bit reluctantly.

“I—no.” You’re uncertain how to respond to that, though you don’t feel optimistic about what it entails. Your mother doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at you and Ten like you’re both strangers who’ve just waltzed in uninvited. She goes back in the kitchen to finish dinner once the door is closed, not saying anything to either one of you, and you already feel a cold pit settling in the bottom of your stomach.

Your dad sits in the living room with you and Ten, and another awkward silence ensues as your dad gives a stiff smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He clasps his fingers together and pulls them apart repeatedly, like they’ll give him the answers for what’s going on.

“This is just a fling, right? Of course you won’t be staying with this ma—” Your dad almost says man but then stutters, thinking maybe the term isn’t appropriate since Ten isn’t human. He makes a vague gesture to fill in the space of the missing word.

“It’s not a fling,” you say, feeling like you’ve had cold water poured down your back. You’re sitting straight and still on the couch, and it’s not comfortable, but you’re too tense to move. Ten is almost equally stiff beside you.

“Y/N, we just want you to make good decisions for yourself.” That’s what your dad says out loud, though the look in his eyes finishes the rest of that sentence: And I don’t think this is a good decision.

“I am,” you insist. “I don’t need to be told that over and over again.”

“Me and Y/N are happy together,” Ten explains, and your dad seems a little shocked that he’s decided to speak.

“Do you truly think you’re what she needs?” your dad asks. You’re not sure what makes you more angry; the question itself, or the fact that he keeps his tone non-accusatory and light, as if he’s only asking something like where do you work? Like the answer doesn’t matter because he’s already made up his mind.

“As long as Y/N wants to keep seeing me, there’s no reason to stop our relationship.”

A sound of displeasure comes from your mother in the kitchen, and your skin prickles. Your dad nods to Ten’s answer, but he does so in a way that conveys he just wants this conversation to be over rather than consider anything that was said.

You deeply regret not leaving straight after that failed discussion, but you soon find out just how bad it can get once you all make it to the dinner table. Your mother is chillingly silent for the first half of the dinner, acting like neither you nor Ten exist, while your dad attempts to make awkward small talk about how things are going.

There comes a point where you can no longer handle the cold sweat and the nerves, and you put your utensils down. Not that you had much of an appetite anyway.

“Why won’t you even talk to me?”

Your mother glares. “You can’t guess? What kind of question is that to ask?”

You falter. You don’t know why she always does this to you. Ask ridiculous rhetorical questions that you both already know the answer to. Now you must sit here and explain why you asked like it isn’t already obvious.

“I’m visiting after I haven’t been here in a while. With my boyfriend. I thought...I don’t know. The least you could do—” Your mother shakes her head at the word “boyfriend,” and you already know everything else you said went in one ear and out the other.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just stay with Christian?” she interrupts. “He had a decent job, came to see us often, and was NOT an alien.”

“But he cheated on me,” you say, a sickness rising in you.

“That’s what men do sometimes, Y/N. You deal with it and move on. You’re supposed to be strong—fix whatever is making him do it.”

You and Ten exchange a tense look, and there is clear confusion whirling in his eyes, but you don’t say anything to each other. “That relationship is over. I’m trying to do something for myself for once, not whatever you think I should do.” Even saying those words makes you internally recoil, unsure of what the reaction will be, but you don’t take them back.

“You may be an adult but we’re still your parents. Frankly, you need to be with a man of your own race and species—not this blue Martian here. How would you even have kids?”

Ten gives a humorless laugh, like he wants to respond but doesn’t want to make the situation worse or offend you. “You know what, I should just leave,” he says abruptly, rising from his seat.

You get up quickly after he does, but your mom slams her hand on the table. “Y/N, you better not walk out of here.”

You feel defeated and exhausted, like you always do when dealing with your parents and their objections to every single thing you do, but you decide not to give in this time. “Stop treating me like I’m still a child, ma.”

“What does being an adult matter when you still act childish? Don’t come back here crying when this doesn’t work out. I’ve already warned you more than enough.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” 

“So now you think you know better than me, when you couldn’t even keep a man the first time around.”

“This is hopeless,” you sigh, feeling wounded and angry at all these cheap shots.

“Y/N, please just listen to your mother for once…” your dad interjects, but you try your best to ignore their protests as you grab your things and follow Ten to the door. You can still hear your mother’s angry complaints as you close the front door behind you, though you’re surprised—but grateful—that neither of them attempt to follow you outside.

The ride back home is uncomfortable and mostly quiet.

“I’m sorry, Ten,” you say, feeling like you’ve been frozen from the inside out despite it being nearly summer. You’re near tears when you speak. Ten shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“It’s not your fault…” he replies weakly, though his words aren’t very persuasive to either of you.

He still walks you up to your door when you arrive back at your place, trailing slightly behind you. The night air is distractingly humid, wrapping around the both of you like a physical thing. Neither of you know what to say to each other.

When you get to your front door, you turn to look at him. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I should’ve known...” 

“I wanted to come,” he points out. “You didn’t make me do anything.” Ten’s tone isn’t outright harsh, but the words are noticeably sharp. Maybe he realizes it, because his face softens as if he’s said something wrong.

You nod. It’s as if there’s a mountainous gap between you two that you just can’t cross right now. “I get it.” You say this almost mindlessly, because you’re not sure what you’re getting, exactly. Your hand rests on the doorknob. You don’t want to end the night on this awkward and painful note, but neither of you are making any progress with this lack of a real conversation. Maybe now isn’t the right time to try to talk about it.

“I think...I’ll just go home tonight.” You expected he’d say that, but the words still make your heart hurt, even if you don’t want them to. He looks like he might say something else, but he just gives you a small nod before starting off.

“Ten…” You don’t know what you want to ask of him or tell him, if anything, but his name slips from your lips like it’s something you can’t keep inside.

Ten stops for a moment and turns back to you. He steps closer again, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, his eyes hold you in place.

He mumbles, “I’m not mad at you,” before leaving.

More than anything, you want to know how Ten is doing, but you’re too ashamed to contact him for the first couple days after that mess of a night. Maybe he thinks you’re just like your parents and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. His reassurance at the door wasn’t enough to soothe your worries, and you end up tearing yourself up internally over it—repeatedly recalling the warmth of his lips and wondering if that’s maybe the last time you’ll ever feel it.

Similarly, nothing but radio silence comes from his end. He doesn’t respond even after you finally muster up the nerve to send him a text—a short text, but still a message all the same—and you fear he must really be done with you.

On Ten’s part, he does have one justification for it; he’s preoccupied with dealing with the avalanche of unpleasant memories and emotions that incident resurfaced. Everything about what your parents said and how they looked at him reminds him of his past and ongoing struggles with trying to assimilate on Earth.

Even though he’s often very sure of himself and what he wants, he begins wondering if he’s “enough” for you. Maybe you’ve just been humoring him this whole time, or you’ve decided your parents are right and you’d be better off with another human. 

Those thoughts keep him up into the early morning hours, and he soon realizes he doesn’t want to let you go. In fact, he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if you decided to walk out of his life right now, and the idea of it makes him ill. Which makes him feel even more foolish for tuning you out.

Ten’s anxiety over losing you culminates in him standing on your doorstep again after almost a week of emptiness and not knowing how you were thinking or feeling—which has been killing him in its own way.

You’re not quite sure how to feel when you open the door and see him on the other side, but relief shoulders its way to the forefront.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“Can you please—”

You both speak at the same time, your words breaking afterwards. 

“You can talk first,” Ten says.

“Come in.” You let him in the door, and the words start spilling before you know how to stop them. “Ten, I-I’m...really sorry. I should’ve known better than to put you in that situation, but I thought…” Your words trail off. You don’t want to let him know just how desperate you still are for your parents’ approval sometimes. Even though it’s a fruitless case. “I just wanted it to go well. I want things to work now, for us. I really, really want things to work for us.”

Ten surprises himself with how quickly he moves to take you in his arms before the last words have even finished settling in his mind. He hugs you tightly. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he whispers, like he’s telling you something forbidden.

“That couldn’t happen.” You’re saddened he’d come to that conclusion. “But...it’s not fair for you to leave me in the dark, either. I want to help you...so would you please let me?”

Ten squeezes you a bit tighter, as if you might disappear from his arms. “I’m sorry I ghosted you...it brought back bad memories of how things were when I first got here. When people were more open about treating me like some kind of enemy. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” You tuck your chin into his shoulder and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his words. “Y/N, I’m not sure if I’m very good at love, or if I even know enough about it. Maybe the others were right and I’m kidding myself with something I’ll never properly learn. But, I…” His voice cracks. “I-I think I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Entirely overwhelmed, you answer his admission with a long kiss, cupping his face in your hands. His response to your kiss is automatic, the knots of tension unraveling in your embrace.

“I love you, Ten,” you whisper against his lips after you separate. Here and now, it doesn’t feel too soon at all; there couldn’t be a better time to say it. His expression is a lot of things at once. Relief, happiness, contentment...he’s blushing, but it shows up as a darker blue on his already blue skin. When he smiles, it turns his whole face into a picture of joy.

--

“I want to go away.” Quietly, you tell him this as you rest your head in his lap.

You’re both lying on your couch, the room dim and the sound of rain occupying the silence. A downpour started coming down soon after Ten got to your place. You’ve sat there just like that and listened to the rain on the windows for the past couple hours, not wanting to do anything else or separate from each other. You knew he wouldn’t want to go home, and you didn’t even have to ask him to stay.

Ten’s been petting your hair the whole time. The motion of his fingers in your kinky strands makes you sleepy, but now the movements pause at your words.

“Go where?” he asks.

“Away from all this. My parents hate me, and they won’t let me have any peace as long as I’m with you. I just want to go away for a while.” Despite you overflowing with love after finally getting your feelings out in the open, the thought of your parents’ disapproval has lingered steadily in the recesses of your mind. You close your eyes against the tears that begin to well up. Ten’s quiet for a few more moments, and then begins stroking your head again.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A few tears fall despite you trying to keep them in, and your eyelids flutter when you feel Ten’s fingers on your face, wiping them away. “Then we’ll go away.”

Ten’s homeland is a planet where the sun—or rather, a star called Proxima Centauri that’s much like the sun—is always out, no matter what time of day it is. There are days where it rains or gets cloudy, but night never falls and the star never dips any lower in the sky, always staying pinned in that same spot like a tack on a corkboard. That everlasting light throws your body clock off, and combined with this weird new form of jet lag associated with space travel, you are a mess for the first week or so after your arrival.

Ten makes a few jokes about fragile human bodies, but for the most part he tends to you as best as he knows how and tells you stories about how he grew up to get your mind off the discomfort. He feeds you these neon green drinks that don’t look like anything on Earth you’ve had before, and although they do make you feel better, you begin to think maybe you should’ve had a wellness plan before running off-planet.

You aren’t the only human who’s ever visited or even lived there, though, which gives you reassurance about adjusting to everything. By now, there’s a small population of human beings living here due to the interplanetary exchange initiated by Earth.

Before you left, Ten told you he had a small home in his homeland. You didn’t quite expect to hear this, since he’d been on Earth for a while now and had no family to return to. Though he’d migrated, he still expected to come back to his planet every so often, if only to visit. Now was as good a time as any.

Although many differences exist, the scenery is much like Earth’s; there are ecosystems with plants and animals and other living beings—like the Sommu themselves. Ten’s homeland is not filled with wall-to-wall technology like you’d expect an alien city to be, based on the small examples you’ve seen on Earth. You might compare it to the tropics back on Earth, with the Sommu yielding to nature’s rightful place in their ecosystem instead of clearing out whole forests or continually mining for resources. Ten is amused by your struggle to comprehend the newness and unfamiliarity of it all.

When you feel good enough to explore, he starts taking you to the beach often. It looks mostly like any other beach, but there are large coral forms that grow out of the ocean, reaching up towards the impossibly blue and constantly illuminated sky. Because there is no moon to guide the tides, the water is eerily still, the surface mirror-like—like a huge lake or pond that extends in almost every direction for miles. You’d almost believe it was a mirror if you hadn’t seen a bird-like creature skimming across the surface as it flew by, creating fleeting ripples.

You swim around a little in the still waters after Ten convinces you that you aren’t going to turn into a fish or something equally scary. He has to hold both your hands the entire time to get you to step in, and he doesn’t let go until you’re confident enough to explore the water on your own.

“Just focus on me, okay?” His smile is bright and shining against his blue skin, and he looks you directly in the eyes as he backs into the water, breaking the surreal stillness of it with his movements. “It’s just like the water on Earth.”

“Okay, okay,” you say uncertainly, gripping his hands and stepping in tentatively. The water does feel like any other water you’ve touched throughout your life, which helps you calm down slightly. His hands stay tight around yours as you get waist-deep into the water.

When you’re finally able to let go of him, he claps his hands more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for. “Yay, you’re a big girl now!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re not funny, Ten.”

--

On a bright afternoon, Ten lets you into a room of his house you haven’t entered before. You’ve passed by this shining white door several times, but it’s always remained firmly shut until now.

“What’s in here?” you ask as you hold his hand.

“That’s what I’m going to show you.” He laughs and pushes the door open.

You think it’s a darkroom at first, seeing nothing but dim light and the shiny surfaces of what looks like photographs as your eyes adjust. But when he touches his hand to a panel on the wall and the lights come on, you realize it’s not a darkroom. More like a small gallery for all his pictures.

The “pictures” are physical, but they aren’t like the old Polaroids or film photos that have begun fading out of existence on Earth. They’re small crystalline squares that play eternally-moving videos on their glossy surfaces—a bit different from the translucent holograms Earth adopted. You step further into the room to look at them. It’d probably take days to explore them all, there are so many. Different scenes play out as soundless movies, and when you look for long enough, you realize they’re split into different categories. Numerous events within a life.

Many are of the beach, other scenic places around his homeland, oddly-shaped buildings, and plants in colors that there are no names on Earth for. You step closer to one of the walls to look at the collection of images more closely. You actually do “recognize” a select few, linking them together with old memories Ten had shared with you only weeks ago. There’s so much happening in these small snippets of time, so many stories you haven’t yet heard, that you feel like you could look at them forever and not get enough.

“This is...something else.” Your words seem inadequate, but you don’t quite know how to express your sheer wonder.

“I could take some of you,” Ten suggests, from somewhere behind you. “I want to.”

You glance back at him. “Hm, yeah.”

“I’m serious.” Ten comes up behind you to clasp his arms around your waist. He tucks his chin into your shoulder. His lips are close at your neck, and you let them linger there. One of your hands goes to his own hand that’s over your waist, and you run your fingertips over his knuckles as you gaze at the photo wall before you. “I think you’d be the perfect muse.”

“You could do that.” You’re still entranced with it all, and you already know you’ve made up your mind to let him take as many photos of you as he wants.

--

The next time you go to the beach, Ten takes some photos of you standing near the huge coral forms—or at least as close as you are willing to get—and he laughs at your lingering hesitation.

Still, the crystalline photos he takes of you are the embodiment of perfection. When you look over them later, watching yourself twirl around and strike silly poses in the water, you can almost hear the sound of your laughter twining together and feel the warmth of a star that’s not the sun on your skin.

“What if we stayed here?”

You ask Ten this while you’re lying in his bed, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ceiling. The bedroom window is open to allow the breeze to come in. The ceiling of the bedroom—and every other room in the house—is more like an ever-changing reflection of shapes and colors than an actual ceiling. You might compare it to a mirror, like the surface of the ocean, but you think it’s much more complex than that. Sometimes you can see the distorted outline of yourself in it, like a funhouse mirror. Other times, you see the sky above.

Ten lies beside you with one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, and he turns his head to look at you.

“Stayed?”

“If we just decided not to...go back to Earth.”

He pauses for a few moments. “Is that a good idea? You have a whole life there...and your friends…” Ten doesn’t mention your family, which you are grateful for.

You sigh. Nothing like a quick injection of reality after letting your imagination get ahead of you. “We’d have to go back. I’d have to tell them goodbye. And sort some other things out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen right now. But, after I do everything I need to do on Earth...maybe I could migrate here.”

“That’s a big decision to make...and it should be yours to decide.” Ten pauses again, like he’s weighing his words. “You know I don’t have many connections on Earth…” In other words, leaving Earth and returning home for good might not be as big of a deal for him as it would be for you.

You sit up and look out the window, seeing how the warm wind stirs the trees outside. “I want to.” You say it almost inaudibly, your words nearly carried off by the breeze. You turn back to him only to find him already there, sitting across from you and looking at you closely. Your faces are only inches from each other’s as he searches your eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll do anything you want to.” Ten’s voice is earnest, like he’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked, and you believe him.

Resting your hand on his cheek, you kiss him.

This kiss is a little different from the ones you’ve shared before—more yearning. More desperate. You kiss like there won’t be enough time to do all the things you want to do with each other—to each other. His split tongue bumps against yours, caresses it, and it causes a shiver to go down your spine, like it always does.

You end up lying back on the bed again with Ten’s body crowding yours in, legs tangling together and hips pressing against one another’s. Neither of you have made a move to take the other’s clothes off yet, but then he separates from your lips for a long moment and studies your features, from your eyebrows down to your mouth.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your mouth drops open slightly.

“I want to see it.” He takes one of your hands and guides it up under your skirt and between your legs, pressing your fingers against your sex through your underwear, and you look at him with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets go of your hand, and you keep yours right where it is. You’re slightly nervous about his black gaze trained on you, unrelenting and prying, but you begin to move your hand anyway. 

Over your underwear, you press your finger between your lower lips, sliding between them and over your clit, and a little tremor goes through your body. You find yourself getting wet more quickly than you normally would with Ten watching you as you tease your entrance. You breathe a little heavier but make no sound yet. One of Ten’s hands reaches out for your ankle, though he doesn’t do anything other than keep his fingers there, a light touch that keeps passing back and forth over your ankle bone.

You circle your fingers across your clit more insistently, your legs tensing as the pleasure mounts higher. Ten’s lips part as he watches you, a heavy breath escaping from his chest. The hand on your ankle slides higher up your leg, just below your thigh, like he wants to slide his fingers into the mix and take over, but he doesn’t make a move to do so just yet.

Finally, Ten reaches under your skirt to pull your sticky panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and leaving them somewhere on the floor. You want him to touch you again, the brush of his hands against your hips not enough, but he doesn’t grant your desire. “Keep going,” he says, leaning back on his hands, and you can see he’s growing hard.

You bring your hand back to its original place between your thighs, sliding through the wetness more easily and shuddering when your fingertips graze over your clit. You slide a finger into yourself then. A small moan slips out, and you close your eyes, but Ten’s fingers pinch your chin—not enough to hurt, but the sudden touch makes you look at him. “Keep your eyes open.” His thumb presses into your lower lip, and he stares at your mouth for a moment like he’s imagining sliding something hard and hot between your lips.

Ten kisses you on the lips again, and this time he trails the kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs on either side of his face. You pause in your movements when he reaches the junction of your thighs, and you watch as he grabs your hand and slips your finger out of yourself. He sucks the slick digit into his mouth, and you cannot tear your eyes away from him.

He lets your hand go and pulls you a few inches closer to his face, dragging you across the bed, and you can barely get your bearings back to sit up again when he slips his tongue through your lower lips. You moan, and he responds to that by repeating it again, catching your clit between the split in his tongue, and wiggling both sides.

“Oh Jesus...oh fuck.” Your hands go to Ten’s hair, pulling on it as you push your hips closer to his mouth, your back curving up. He is alluring tucked between your thighs like this, teasing and sucking your clit with his split tongue and prodding his fingers at your hole until he chooses to slide two of them inside.

His free hand keeps you close against his face as he eats you out, that wondrous tongue sliding against the most sensitive part of your body and making you gasp with boundless pleasure. Little droplets of moisture bead at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, your stomach tensing and releasing as you try your best to keep still.

He has to keep his grip on your body tight when you come, as you try to squirm away from his tongue because of how stimulated you are. He only lets you go after he’s satisfied himself with licking up all the wet that’s spilled from you.

Then he strips your skirt off for you, because he knows you’re not quite in a state to do it for yourself right now. He peels the rest of your clothes off similarly, which doesn’t take much time or effort to do; you’ve dressed lightly for the weather.

Ten looks at you lying beneath him on the bed, his gaze stuck somewhere between awe and lust. 

He slips out of his own clothes with a certain practiced ease. Yes, he’s really blue everywhere. He looks mostly human-like everywhere, too, except for the lack of a belly button. 

Ten kisses you deeply as he slips into you, and you clutch at his sides. He tries to keep his pace slow at first, maybe for your sake or to just savor how it feels, but he gives into the feeling of you squeezing around him and starts thrusting into you faster. There is already sweat sliding down to his jaw, though you think it might be because of the heat, too.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” comes out of you in a voice you hardly recognize as your own.

His pelvis sliding against your clit from the proximity of your bodies makes you curl your fingers into the strands of his hair, wanting to touch every part of him you can. His lips go to the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder, leaving little wet kisses behind as he wraps an arm around your waist and simply fucks into you, his shaft dragging against your walls.

He eventually separates himself from your neck, though it comes with some effort, to gaze at your face again. However, he finds that your eyes have drifted shut.

“Do you wanna come?” Ten asks, softly, gently, like you might break apart if he speaks too loud.

You’re a little winded from how he’s thrusting into you and can’t yet see the motive behind this question—because of course you do—but you answer with a shaky “I-I want to.”

“Then don’t look away from me.” His voice becomes harsher on these words.

“I…” Your lips move without any real words behind them as he thrusts into you harder, sinking all the way into you before pulling out to the tip. You want do what he’s just told you, but you find it difficult with the way he’s intent on burying himself into you, his eyes piercing into your own. “Mmm, I-I…”

You don’t know if you can, but the way he’s kindling your rising heat with each thrust makes you want to try very, very hard. Ten keep his hands on the sides of your face so you cannot look anywhere but at him.

The pleasure bears down on you more with each second, and you try to keep your breathing steady as another climax approaches.

“You’re almost there, come on baby,” he coaxes you, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth before slipping his tongue in again. The way you gasp against his lips and tighten around him signals him to your orgasm, and he sits back to watch it play across your face, smirking at how you moan his name desperately.

Ten’s continued thrusts make you shiver from the flood of sensations overcoming your body, and you whimper at his movements until he pulls out and comes on your abdomen.

Ten gives you time to recover after you come down from your second orgasm, though he makes sure to lay a few more enamored kisses on your weakened body. He gets off the bed and exits the room after that. You don’t bother to ask where he’s going, because you know he’ll be back anyway.

When Ten comes back, he has his camera with him. The teasing tilt of his lips never leaves his face as he points it towards you. He takes a photo of you lying on his bed nude, with the breeze coming in and rustling the tree leaves and your hair, your skin shining bronze under the light of the eternal star. Then he comes closer, making the bed sink under his weight, and nudges your legs apart. He takes more photos of your lower stomach glistening with sweat and his cum—and photos of him sliding his slender fingers between your thighs and bringing you careening into another bout of euphoria.

The camera is soon forgotten after you come again. Ten climbs fully back onto the bed now and pulls you into his lap. His dick is hard again, and the length of it nudges against your lower lips, making you whimper from how sensitive you still are. He shushes you with a kiss and lifts your hips so he can slide into you, his shaft nudging that soft spot inside you and making you grip onto his arms.

You’re too mushy and dazed to do anything but let him push his hips up into you while you cling to him, your head lolling back. Ten’s mouth goes to the open expanse of your neck, and he wets your skin with his tongue.

The kaleidoscope of shapes above you on the ceiling morphs into one glistening reflection, throwing the blurred shapes of your bodies back to you. It’s like looking through a dense fog. You’re a little caught off guard by it, and you stare up at your nude forms. Ten looks up as well to see the cloudy figure of you cradled in his lap, and he only grins and thrusts up into you harder and smacks your ass in reply.

He grinds into you while he has you sitting full on his dick, and you think he must have set off your internal “reset” button somewhere between landing slaps on your ass and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your mind is blissfully, amazingly blank. The only clear thing you can distinguish is how he feels in and around you.

When you come this time, it comes with a gush of wetness that makes Ten whisper several smug praises into your ear for being such a good girl and making a mess on him.

As you quickly find out, Ten’s refractory period seems to be nonexistent, while his stamina is overflowing.

Ten knows how to mix the pain with pleasure in a way that enhances both feelings, and you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced anything more perfect. One moment, he’ll say something romantic and fairytale-like to you before shoving your head into the pillow and taking you from behind in the next moment, pulling one of your arms behind you for leverage as he thrusts into you hard. You want him to do whatever he desires to you, and so you let him hammer into you until you think your hips and ass will be bruised by the next morning.

You’ve never knew that sex could be so carnal and so loving at the same time, but this is all of those things, and it makes you feel so full that you could split at the seams. You scream, cry, and moan more times than you can count, so enveloped by pleasure that it seems like the atoms of your body will simply dissolve from the intensity.

When you both finally become too exhausted to continue, it’s still daytime. Of course. But Ten draws the blackout shade forward and seals all the light out, and so you know it must be time to sleep. Time blends together here. Even if it’s not yet the midnight hour, it will be as long as you deem it so.

“Come here,” he says, and rolls you over on the bed so you don’t have to sleep in the wet spot. You grin in sleepy amusement against his neck as he hugs you to his body. “Let’s stay right here.”

You know he’s talking about sleeping for the next few hours, but you can also imagine he’s referring to your new life—one you’ll create together.

[datingintampafails]

Chapter 33: Robert*

Robert* reminds me of Peter*, in which, there’s confusion about names, the vibes are never quite right, and the date is pretty short. Though in this case, although we did talk for a longer time than Peter* and I did, the date itself was even shorter, a whopping 45 minutes.

Initially, Robert* likes me first on Hinge. His profile is not necessarily a slam dunk for me. He looks decent looking, though not my usual type, and has a chain bakery listed as to where he works. I like to think I am not a snob when it comes to careers, I’m pretty open-minded, but I do want to be with someone who has ambition and can have intelligent conversations with me since I am pretty well educated. Basically, someone around my level of thinking.

I decided to give the guy a chance and respond to his like by mentioning that I really like cookies at the place he works. He mentions that we could have a first date there and I responded by asking if he has dates with girls at his work often. He tells me he has only been working there a few weeks, so no. We legitimately talk about the different kinds of cookies for a while, then he moves on to ask me about what else I like. I mention my dog, then share that I space out and have trouble thinking on the spot and ask him about himself to see if it will also remind me of other things I like. He talks about seeing friends and playing video games, adds he “Doesn’t get out much.” Without missing a beat, he asks me what I’m looking for on dating apps. The dreaded question. I ask him to tell me first. My reasoning being, I feel like many men will cater their answers to what you want, instead of telling the truth. He writes me a long answer then gives me a TL;DR (too long; didn’t read) that is maybe ⅔ the length of the original message, so not that short, that says “going with the flow, down for a consistent [friends with benefits] or relationship, whatever happens, just not a one-night stand.” He announces it is then my turn to respond. I tell him I feel more or less the same, as his original longer message, but that I am not as much interested in the friends with benefits thing. Specifically, I say that with FWB, there needs to be an opportunity, or “nahhh.” I say that expectations only bring hardship and lightheartedly say I like to ask super important questions early in relationships, i.e. like my survey/application from way back when, and add “like cookie choices.” He asks me to clarify my opportunity or nahhh and says he is an open book and I can ask him anything. I explain my feelings more, saying that I don’t see the point of sticking around if someone is dead set on not wanting a relationship with me, as well as it is usually temporary and almost like a holding pattern. I ask my most important question, which is if someone wants children or not.

I get a slight argument back from him, regarding the FWB thing, saying that it can turn into more. I argue back, saying that it is still something that needs to be wanted, or at least both parties from the start can think “maybe someday.” He says this and that about the FWB, before answering my question. He says, more or less, he is open to it but it isn’t a necessity for him, however, he definitely doesn’t want kids right now. He asks me how I feel about it and I express I do not want them but would be open to adoption. He says that’s fine with him and quickly says, “Any other questions.” I am not meaning for this to be an interview. I say I do have a question, but that it is more of an open-ended/ statement that can be responded to. All I say for my “question” is the phrase “trump.” I also let him know I am going to sleep soon so we can continue our conversation in the morning. He does not like my question, that is that he says it is too vague and isn’t helpful for political discussions. I tell him that is my point, and that I am looking for him to express his feelings and that I can either oppose, agree, or somewhere in between. He says likely there would be all three. I go to sleep so I do not respond.

He greets me in the morning with a good morning. I greet him back, though I remind him I am still waiting on his opinions. It is a Saturday, so I also let him know I am about to present for a Zoom conference. He says he’s at a rowing camp and on a break from that, then asks me about my conference. He again requests that I be more specific than just “Saying one word.” I tell him about the conference, but regarding the political question, I send an eye-rolling emoji again saying that that is the point of the open forum, that I am looking for a blanket statement of his feelings regarding Trump.

He again asks about my presentation, and how it went, then goes on to give a pretty neutral debate, saying there’s good and bad, though it seems he veers more towards being a Trump fan, which is not my preference. Robert* offers to me that I can ask any questions about his stance. I am thinking, I do not need an invitation, I have a question and I will ask it.

Robert* inquires what I am doing the rest of the night. I say I’m staying in as I am going to Disney World the next day. I ask him what he is going to do the rest of the night, as that is the societally polite thing to do. I am asked AGAIN if I have any questions to ask him. He also says that he “wanted to do something with someone tonight. Chill night in maybe? Not necessarily sexual. Just relaxing, drinking some wine maybe.” My response is “haha sorry i don’t think i’ll be ‘someone’ today,” both calling him out on obviously being thirsty, as well and reiterating I am not planning on going out tonight. He admits defeat, saying that he didn’t think I would be either, but it was “worth a shot to ask.” However, he does say he does want to get together sometime.

Immediately before I can even respond to that, though, he asks me where in Disney I am going tomorrow. I tell him that Monday I could look at my schedule and put together a time and day we could meet up. I also express that I do not want to meet him at either of our places, mostly because of the stunt he had just pulled. I tell him my Disney World plans as well. He says that it is fine to talk about going out on Monday and says that “that would’ve been the plan” to not hang out at either of our places, despite what he had just said earlier about having a chill night in. I call him out on this, reminding him that he had just said something different, his response being, “yes, sorry if that made you uncomfortable. Im horny as all hell but my intentions are good and i can keep it in my pants. I promise.” How romantic. I send a laughing emoji and say that we’ve all been there before. He says he didn’t want to cross the “TMI threshold,” wherein I say that it is difficult to TMI me, but that doesn't mean I won’t be judgemental. His next comment is awkward, as he invites me to judge, but says that he’s “done [his] fair share of crazy/dumb/slutty shit. As [he is] sure [I] have too.” Weird to accuse someone you are trying to woo of being a crazy dumb slut, but okay. I bring up that I had an abusive relationship but that even in that, I wasn’t completely devoid of wrongdoing. He asks if I am comfortable talking about that and is sympathetic. I tell him more about that and he asks for some of the red flags my ex but off that I ignored. For the billionth time, Robert* offers that if I have any more important questions that I can go ahead and ask. I briefly acknowledge he asked again, by saying “lol if they come up organically I’ll ask” before continuing to talk about my abusive ex. One of the things I mentioned was that my ex was very critical about my body habitus, that is, that I was too skinny. Robert* takes it upon himself to say, “ as far as your body, it seems like you have a great fucking body…. As long as you’re not unhealthy idgaf im attracted to you sooooo” then sends two heart-eyed emojis and a shrugging guy emoji. The line he draws is that his “hands are rated E for everyone,” the context being, if someone hit him he would hit back. I explained my body issues some more and that I have stomach issues, and have always been a small person. He misunderstands and thinks I’m talking about having abs or having a fatty stomach. With the context I felt I had given, I sent a bunch of question marks before adding that my stomach issues were internal. He apologizes a lot for misunderstanding and says he is glad I’m in a better situation.

In his mind, it’s now a great time to bring up that we should text or snap. I tell him that Snapchat is “for hoes” if you only talk on Snapchat. Referencing to myself Darren* mostly. He sends me his number and then I text him. The next day, I am off having a day with my friend at an amusement park. He texts me often throughout the day and I respond when I have a chance. My best friend is asking me “who is this one?” and by the time she asks this, I’m honestly getting a little annoyed. She’s still asking about John* and where he is at. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. We’re mad at him right now. He is doing that shit again. I have to play the game, you know?” I describe Robert* as being kind of needy. At one point, Robert* is texting and asking desperately when I’m free and when we can go out. I tell him “I’m still out I’m not focused on that right now” The overeagerness is kind of a turn-off. And as mentioned earlier, we had already agreed to plan things out on Monday, and it was Sunday. He responds “Ok nvm. We don’t have to talk about that. Sorry.” Maybe I was harsh but had to put this guy in his place. I get a barrage of questions about Disney World. I mention I’m wearing my hat like a frat boy. He responds jokingly, “disgusting, how dare you.” I continue the charade by saying “yep I haze the shit out of people.” Next, however, his response is too cringey, “Mmmm haze me frat mandy” and adds “I can go more cringe.” I reply, “no thanks.” I ignore him for the rest of the day and then when I get home I finally tell him 1) I’m home and 2) what days I’m available. He gets irritated as the two nights I am available, are the only nights he is working. I have some friends coming into town the next weekend as well, so I tell him I’m not really available since I want to hang out with them. We go back and forth on what to do then with our conflicting schedules. Finally, we agree upon doing something after my work, but before his work on one of the days, giving us a tight segment of time but that should be enough for more or less a meet and greet. Because he is the one that will have somewhere to go, I tell him that he’s in charge of the planning and logistics because I wanted to make sure he had enough time to get to work.

We chat superficially in the meantime, mostly about video games and a little about past relationships. And of course… more inviting me to ask questions again. He puts me on the spot regarding the date and is trying to make me plan. I put the responsibility back on him. Finally, he suggests a place he had been wanting to try, that is more or less like a juice bar that also does protein shakes, kind of a health shop. Not really my kind of place, but I’m making him do all the planning so I won’t argue. We both independently go on a search for menus/information. He makes a comment regarding finding the menu but no prices. He randomly comments while we are chatting about the place “have i ever said that youre really fucking cute,” to which I just respond “not like in those exact words.” He adds “but yea you are. I humbly brag, “thanks! I know this about myself.” Typical male response is, presumably joking, “ok you’re too cocky” “youre ugly” “gotta bring you down a peg.” To this I just say, “it’s called confidence/not being insecure.” He switches things around saying “i know confidence is sexy.”

I don’t respond to this and get a good morning text the next day and he makes small talk about how we slept and such. It is the day that I have a date with Timmy*, but of course Robert* doesn’t know this. He at one point texts me saying that his morning got really shitty. I ask him what’s wrong and all he says is “I’ll tell you about it later.” I wonder why people do this, like why bring it up if you aren’t gonna talk about it now? It all seems like a sort of test. I do not play these games. All I say in response is “ok.” He adds “if I don’t text you about it remind me.” I don’t respond. He texts me again asking how my work is going an hour-ish later. I say it’s hectic and he asks if I’m on lunch. I send him a message about not getting full lunch breaks. I don’t hear from him for almost five hours, and given his text earlier about his bad day, I figured something could be wrong given how clingy via text he usually is. I finally text him and ask if he is ok. He says he took a nap and asked again about work, making a point that it was better than his day. Enough of the baiting, I finally say snarkily, “yeah you still have to tell me [what happened.” He is hyping it up now, saying “fair warning - its sad” I don’t respond because I figure he would still go on and tell me what happens and it didn’t warrant a response, but then he adds “if you still want to know” a few minutes later. I honestly don’t care too much, “if you want to tell me.” He finally does tell me what happened, and essentially he saw a dog be hit by a car and had tried to help it with someone else who saw the hit but the dog, unfortunately, didn’t make it. I commend him on trying to help and he says that he did the right thing and that’s why his day sucked. I don’t really know how to respond to that, plus at this point, I am getting ready for my date.

I lie to him when he asks me about my night, saying that I am chilling. More small talk to my disgust, and I verify our plans for the next day. He makes a comment about not being able to see the prices anywhere. This seems to be a worry of his for whatever reason, so I tell him that we can do something else and that I am flexible. He is of no help, as all he says about this is “idk what else we’d do.” My response is “ok” and I say I’m going to bed. In the morning it is finally the day of our date and I let him know that unfortunately I forgot to bring a change of clothes with me to work, so I’ll be wearing my work outfit tonight. He makes a comment about how he’s never seen a cute girl not look good in scrubs, and I let him know that today is the day that changes.

During the day, he states he is thinking of driving by to check the prices of the drinks and that he’s also got a back up. I tell him he should do whatever he wants. I look the places up and they are about 25 minutes away from my work. I head on that way once my work is done and I arrive first. I wait in my car until he texts me to ask which car is mine. I get out of my car and grab my things, now realizing I parked next to a puddle of water and got my shoes a little wet. I laugh it off and say oh well. I see who I presume to be him getting out of a car on the other side of the parking lot. He’s wearing a light pink hoodie, a little different but hey, real men wear pink, right?

I approach him and say hello and give him a hug. We get our masks on and walk into the store. Immediately we are greeted by who I can only assume is the owner of the shop. He is bright and happy and gives us his spiel about the type of beverages they have there. Robert* is being very quiet and is very short with the worker, saying he doesn’t know what he wants and I should go first. I try to describe what I’m going for, and the worker says the exact thing on the menu I want is unavailable due to a delayed shipment, but suggests something else to me and I accept with recommendation. I am done ordering apparently too quickly, as my date is still undecided. The owner ends up just asking him if he likes snickers, the candy bar, and he gives a not-very-believable “Yeah” so the owner suggests to him a shake that is based on those flavor patterns. Robert* is asked if we’re paying together and I look to him, he lets out an apathetic, “sure” and it takes all of my energy not to scoff. The owner tells us that they’re giving discounts out if you advertise the location by sharing a photo on social media and I agree to do so, because why not.

Then it gets a little uncomfortable. The owner is trying to be extra personable and make it a personalized experience, so upon receiving Robert*’s card, he starts referring to him using his name that is on his card. The only thing is, the name I know him by is not the name on the card, nor any fort of that name, like a typical nickname. Under my face mask, I smile and almost laugh to myself like, you dumb bitch who are you even out with rihgt now. Additional peer pressure from the owner also leads to us giving him our emails and signing up for their loyalty program, which also knocks off some cents off our drink. When I give him mine, obviously everything is the same, but when he gives his email, his email does have the name that I knew him by in the address, so I figure okay maybe Robert* is a middle name or something. Because we were under one order, there was also some sort of combo discount included as well since he got a shake and, I, a tea.

As we walk away from the counter and take a seat on a couch maybe 10 feet away, Robert* abruptly asks “what do you think the damage is?” Immediately pulling out his phone and checking the receipt of our drinks. “Uh I don’t know…. Sixteen dollars,” I guess. I am honestly put off by his obsession on price. I understand money issues, but it is not appropriate for first date behavior. I am pretty close, as it is somewhere in the mid $15 range. He scoffs at the prices.

Now that we are sitting together, I am noticing really how disheveled and not put together he looks. He has overgrown stubble, too short to be a beard, but definitely not stubble from just the day. His skin all over his face and body is dry and flaky, especially on his ears. Again, I expect a little more from a man who has had days to prepare for this date. I have been sipping my drink for a while, and it is honestly delicious, one of the best beverages I’ve ever had. He asks if I would like to try his drink. “No thank you, I don’t think it would go well with my fruity drink,” I half lie. The major reason why is that I am weird about sharing drinks/food and that so far I am almost repulsed by him and don’t want to share anything with him.

Despite my lack of optimism already, I try my best to be upbeat and give him a chance. I am trying to start a conversation and ask him questions and get to know him more, but he is a brick wall. He’s just staring at me and not saying anything, occasionally taking sips from his shake. Many of his responses are very sarcastic and rude. He actually brings up the ears; he had a very bad sunburn and that’s why they looked like that. Doesn’t explain the rest of his look though, but at least he was aware of that. It is pretty warm in the shop. I already opted to leave my jacket in the car, but at one point he decided to take off his sweatshirt. Underneath was a red shirt with almost like a confetti cake type pattern, of little microscopic dots of different colors throughout. I compliment the shirt, and mention I have one of a similar type of fabric pattern. I am nodded at. I again continue to try and force conversation, but I am still getting nothing.

Randomly he says, “come here” and puts his arm around me, pulling me close. I am extremely confused, as I was getting very negative vibes from him all over. I make my confusion known by commenting about how that was out of nowhere. His only response is, “oh you know.” “No, I do not know. I have no idea what is going on right now.” He only just chuckles and is like “you’re a cute girl.” I furrow my brow in confusion and figure we should get some air and suggest we take a walk. I ran to my car and put the drink in my car as well as my bag, being light, only having my phone and car keys for the walk. We take off and just walk through a nearby neighborhood. We have maybe 10-15 more minutes until he has to get going so he can get to work in time.

Conversation is still moderately forced, but a little better. At one point, we come up to a tree where the branches overhang drastically over the sidewalk. Whereas before I had been walking on the street side, Robert* has swung around and walked into the street, whereas I choose just to duck under the branches, which is easier with me being shorter, although I would not say he is very tall either. I made a comment about not caring and that he could have just “pushed me into the street/out of the way” and continued on, jokingly, about how you have to put a woman in their place. He says “okay noted I see what you like now,” trying to turn it into something sexual, it seems. I pause a moment, becoming much more serious when I say, “you know I’m kidding. I’ve told you about my abusive relationship so obviously I am not a fan of battering women.” In this moment, he pulls me into an embrace and tries to kiss me. I lean away and ask him, “why is talking about abusing women the time to try and kiss me?” He makes an excuse saying that he just really wanted to kiss me. I lie again, making another excuse about why I don’t want to kiss him, “I’m more old fashioned I guess, I’d like to get to know someone a little better and make sure that we are compatible and know each other well before I do anything.” Again, not entirely untrue. For the five hundredth or so time, Robert* says that I can ask him any questions.

I check my watch and declare, accurately, “We should probably head back towards our cars, you need to head out soon.” We walk back to the parking lot, having idle chitter chatter. When we get to my car, it’s perfect timing, as an alarm he had set to make sure he left on time goes off. I start to say our goodbyes and he tells me again that he wants to kiss me. I make a noise that makes my discomfort known, and he says, “well what about a kiss on the cheek?” I say verbatim, “I’ll allow it.” He makes a sarcastic comment, mocking me about “allowing it.” I retorted back saying, “well yeah.” He sticks to his word and only does a cheek kiss, and I’m cringing and can’t wait to wash my face when I get home. Being polite, I ask for him to let me know when he gets to work.

Using my Apple Carplay, I ask my car to text him when I notice he is driving behind me. Though, as all I’m getting is audio, I don’t know exactly what I am texting until I get home later.

(the first two texts of mine are my car texting and not manually)

Immediately, he asks me my feelings about him.

I then offered Venmo him money for my drink, as obviously money was a huge concern for him. He accepts and sends me his Venmo. I sent him the money and let him know so.

And that is that. He doesn’t text me after that.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

this is… a little weird. i’ll admit. i almost feel like i’m back in eighth grade again. (i never want to be back in eighth grade.) i can’t remember the last time i wrote to you. this blog used to be a crutch, i used to come here every day and either send letters or just sit there and read through what other people had sent. in retrospect, i think that helped me more than i ever realized. so that’s part one of this letter: thank you to all the people who were sending letters in back in 2013, 2014, 2015. i can even remember specific people whose letters i remember reading often, that actually surprised me. until about half an hour ago, i had completely forgotten about this blog at all. but yeah, thank you. thank you to everyone who read my letters, who wrote their own letters (who made me feel less alone). thank you to the admin(s), for giving me this space.

it’s 2:06 am on august 29, 2017. i don’t even know where to begin in terms of how different i am, my life is, from when i last remember writing. it’s definitely been a few years. i’m doing surprisingly good. i’m gonna be a senior in high school now, i’m applying to colleges! up until even a few weeks ago that scared me so badly, but i have my personal statement done, i have the common app almost done, you know? its not so bad. senior year’s gonna be really really rough, i have no doubts, but as of right now (and i know it’ll change as we go on), i think i can manage. it’s my last year! i just have to make it through this one.so while i am doing good right now, the past few years (even months) haven’t been all sunshine, trust me i’ll be the first to say. it’s definitely been tough, there have been a lot of bad days. there’s been a lot of feeling like shit about myself, about my friendships, about everything. but ultimately, there’s absolutely no denying things are for sure better from 2014. sometimes i wish i could meet eighth grade me. sometimes i want to write her a letter.

here’s my letter-within-a-letter.

to the me who wrote her very first letter to charlie. to the me who wrote each following letter. to the me who sent in a poem that should not have been: hey. how are you? i know how much you hate that no one bothers to ask you that. i think about you a lot. your bad habits are my bad habits, scars left on my body now. habits i’m unlearning, even the small ones. learning how not to have panic attacks over small things, over tests and bad grades and what people say. learning how to not dig my nails into the palms of my hands automatically. learning how to un-clench my fists. my knuckles haven’t been bruised for months. i’m well over two years clean now. can you imagine? i remember being you, it being impossible to be four days clean. you’re going to manage. you’re going to survive this. breathe. there are a couple people, the closest ones in the world to you, who know and who help you celebrate this. your best friend is going to write you a letter the day you’re finally two years clean. it’ll make you cry. don’t be afraid to let her in. don’t be afraid to let any of them in. and i know you won’t listen because i still don’t take my own advice, but understand that people are just people, and people come and go. no one is really and truly permanent in your life. it’s not you, it’s not your fault. let the old people leave, let them go with a fond memory and peace in your heart. (yes that means him. you grow apart. it happens.) let the new people in. you know that now i’m starting to date someone that you haven’t even met yet? and i’m happy with it, with him. i spent yesterday evening texting someone else that you won’t meet either for another year. you’re growing. i’m growing. you’ve never said it aloud, and i’ll never speak it, but i know we both had a gut feeling we would never make it past age 16. my birthday’s in less than a month, i’m turning 17. isn’t that crazy? i’m still dealing with a lot, i mean. depression and anxiety are both recurring themes in my life, but it’s definitely on a long (very long) uphill climb. i’ve crawled out of this pit you’ve found yourself stuck in. can i give you some advice? 1. stop skipping meals, it’s pointless and harmful and i know you feel weak and dizzy and you’re short on breath in gymnastics. this isn’t good for you. we’re in this together, i’m still trying to convince myself of this. 2. when mom and dad find out, it’d going to seem like the end of the world. it’s going to seem like they and you will never move past it. you will. in the end it’s better for you. in the end it helps you get clean. 3. when they offer to have you go see a therapist, take them up on it. i wish i had agreed back then, now it’s a little late and i’m struggling to find a way to bring it up to them. 4. music is going to be your saving grace. hold tight to music. listen to as much as you can. find different bands, find your favorite bands, go see them live. concerts are going to become your favorite thing, they’re going to become motivation. 5. don’t be afraid to branch out of your music taste. it changes, so what? remember your old favorite bands fondly, come back to them sometimes, but find new ones too. 6. stop caring so much about what other people think - even your friends. 7. you’re not going to be everyone’s best friend. it’s not a bad thing. learn to be okay with it and accept it. just appreciate the ones who are your best friends. 8. learn to be okay with being happy. don’t use your sadness to define yourself, you know?

this is far too long already, so i’m going to end here. to sum up: i know my mental health is far from perfect right now, but it’s so much better than it used to be, it’s kind of incredible. thank you, charlie, for these past few years, and for listening one last time. maybe i’ll write again someday, who knows. until then, i’m going to try to keep this good state of mind up for as long as possible. and when it retreats, well, then i’ll deal with it. now i know i can.

thank you. love u.

[happilyneverafters]

pt 1/4: accepting; the novel text to a bff

I love him. I’ve loved him from the very beginning. I wasn’t in the right mind then. I had just gotten over XXX and I was finally living the fun single life. I knew I would hurt him bc he loved me so much and I couldn’t settle. I f*cked up. Fast forward. He did the same to me. He reached out, thinking that I was still that damaged girl he could just have fun with... he saw I wasn’t and we connected way too much way too fast and he hadn’t dealt with XXX. He literally bought a ring. Proposed. Got a “yes” and started planning a wedding. Then to find out she cheated. Yeah, obviously that hurt. He said he was over it but how could you get over that in literally 2 months? You can’t. I got a promise ring and was cheated on so I know the commitment significance but we weren’t planning a wedding????? So he ran. He wanted to mess around like I did. I was furious. Sick to my stomach on how he treated me. But I don’t care as much as I should bc I’ve been there. And I am so in love with him and it’s so f*cking unconditional and this proves it. He has been my best friend since high school. And I’m almost 25........ so 11, 12 years???? What he did was f*cked up. Hahahaha it makes me laugh out loud how f*cked up it was. And when I truly think about every bit and piece that happened from the time he messaged, to when I called him when driving to XXX and he was the biggest d*ck I’ve ever heard... I literally about puke from the gut wrenching pain... but I don’t blame him................ how can that be? I just truly feel sorry for him. Bc an engagement is the biggest decision someone could make and he made that decision. Only for it to go south. So yeah, he broke my heart. He stomped on it and spit on it and put it in the shredder. But for some reason, all of my tears, all of my depression, all of this weight I’ve gained, all of my poems I’ve wrote and all of the fake things I’ve done/said .... I’m still on the fence on how I should feel. I should be angry. I should cuss him out. I should punch him in the face. I should get revenge. I should move on. I should be happy. But I don’t want to. I want to be sad. I want to hurt. I want to miss him. I want to love him. I want to blame her and not him. I want to blame college and not him. I want to blame time and not him. I want to blame me and not him. And that’s sick in the head of me. Bc he literally told you he couldn’t care less about me. Yet here I am, hoping I’ll secretly see him one day. I know I deserve better. But not a better person. The situation was just off. But I can’t see the wrong in it bc I was that person too. If God continues to keep him on my mind and is giving me the words to write about him, I want to trust that he’s supposed to be in my life. If people keep going back to each other, they aren’t meant to be apart. Sure this was only the second time of going back but will I ever not want to go back???? That’s what I fear. You say I’ll meet someone and I’ll “know” like you did. But that’s how I felt with him. I was seriously the most alive I’ve ever been in my entire life. I didn’t want to sleep. I was excited to wake up. I was living on the edge. I was spontaneous. I wanted to be out of the house. I wanted to be with him even if we were just sitting. Or swinging. I wanted to hear every little thing he had to say. And study every feature of his face and body and mind and heart and soul.

pt. 2/4

He wasn’t the person who hurt me. And I don’t believe he meant it. I feel for him the way you feel for yours and the way your voice changes when you talk about him. But he is such a bag of f*cking d*cks and I hate his guts. I want to karma to take him out and make him call her daddy. But I am so consumed that as soon as I think about how angry I should be, I think “aw I just want to hug him and tell him it’s okay”. Yet he would never in a million years do that for me. So when will I stop wanting to do that for him? Or will I? Like I said in one of my poems, I need to act like he is XXX. I wanted so badly to be XXX’s but he is physically not able. He is gone. I need to look at him that way. Same with XXX. When XXX started dating girls in his town. I was miserable. When he told me not to come to XXX. I was livid. But then I realized. He’s not physically able to be mine. That’s how I need to look at him. But I refuse to believe it. I refuse to accept it. I can listen to yalls advice and I will gladly do it but I can’t promise I’ll ever want it to be true. He doesn’t understand that bc he wouldn’t give me the chance to explain that. He read my words. He didn’t hear my words. Or my tone. He refused to look me in the eye and when I was finally close to it he said “ugh fine you can come over”..... like, no, I’m not going to “ugh come over” and fight for your ear and your heart. I’ll “ugh come over” to physically fight you bc you’re an idiot and need to be taken down a notch bc you’re too high on your horse but again, he’s damaged, he’s got that mindset he needs to be free bc he’s seen the ugly side of commitment, not my side of promising commitment. Again, like I said in one of my poems, I don’t love him for how he treats me bc clearly he treats me like I’m a washed up piece of garbage that a raccoon dug through and slept on throughout the rainy night but bc of who he is and what he’s been through and what is capable of. I’m in love with every bit of him for him. Not him for me. Again, he can’t hear that bc he’s childish enough to plug his ears and not listen. Idk what to do. I’ll move on. I’ll go on this date tonight and try my best to keep an open mind but I know at the end of the night, when I get my phone out before bed, I’ll look at his pics or see what he’s posted/reposted. That’s so dangerous of me. You’re right, I might find someone someday who won’t treat me this way. But I want to at least wait to see if his bas**** a** will grow up first and realize I would gladly ask his mom for his hand, get down on one knee and ask his frat a** to marry me and I would say yes to him every single day of my life. Even if he said no to me, like he already has.

pt 3/4

He won’t come back. And I know that. He won’t. Bc he is able to wipe his hands and walk away bc to him, he did nothing wrong. He was just living the single life. But to me, I was home with him. He didn’t act as just living the single life. To him, he was. To me, it was not at all. And he wouldn’t know that. That’s the thing. He doesn’t know. I could tell him, I’m not scared to express it, it’s just like he said though, it’s pointless. It wouldn’t benefit him, and it wouldn’t benefit me. It’s a waste of breath. I’ve made myself look like a psychotic fool to him. I’d rather sit in my room crying and writing about my feelings, just to save him the time of hearing my voice. I won’t wait for him. It’s not necessary. And I told him I wouldn’t. But unlike him, I’m not going to go out and find someone. The only reason I’ve got the date tonight is bc I got upset and downloaded a dating app for one night. Bc I don’t want to meet someone that way. Which is another fear. I don’t want to meet someone online. I don’t go out to bars. You can’t really meet anyone at a church like ours. It would just have to be a mutual friend or someone I’ve already known. Either way, I don’t want anyone else. I didn’t when I broke up with him a few years ago. I tried to come back but he had already had me blocked bc XXX. So I had to. No one, no one, even came close to how I felt about him. Again, it’s not just “oh I really want to be with him”..... the connection.... the connection is what is real and instant and easy and fun and that’s what I loved. He was my best friend first. Does he really have a connection like that with everyone????

pt 4/4

I can’t cry. I’m trying to. I need to. I’m just numb. This song I’m listening to is so touching and of course, I’m thinking of him, but I can’t cry. I think I’ve literally used up all of my tears. I can’t feel anything. And it got me thinking. Y’all are so tired of hearing me vent about him. I know that. And I’m sorry. I know you know something I don’t. And maybe it’s that he truly won’t come back. And that’s fine. I think I’m finally accepting that. But the thing is, is I know what I want. And I’ve known what I’ve wanted for a long time. And it’s him. It will always be him. It always has been. You say I’ll find someone but the gag is I know it’s him. Whether God tells him no, God has told me yes. So many times. And if he is somewhat available, I’m not going to force myself to move on if I don’t have to. I’m not saying I will refuse others but I won’t give up hope on him but if/until he calls me, FaceTimes, or comes to physically see me.... he won’t come back. It’s easy to not care when you have zero contact. He’s the cool senior frat guy who can get any girl he wants. Toxic. Pathetic. Disturbing. Disgusting. But that’s not him. And I know if he saw me, he’d feel for me what he had before, whether he thinks so or not. I’m still so happy. I haven’t changed. I still am living the same life I did before he came back. And today being in XXX, I didn’t search for him, I was just enjoying my time home, but I can’t say I didn’t imagine what it would have been like with him there with me. Or in the car ride home. Or Rn listening to this romantic song trying to nap. It’s him I want. It’s him I need. But I can’t let you be the one I dump it on. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I know it’s been... 2 months? You’re tired. I’m tired. So it’s time that I suffer alone. As much as I will pray for that day to come where him and I come face to face, you won’t hear about it. I don’t blame him for anything he did. He wasn’t in the right mind. And even if he was, he wasn’t in the wrong. He hurt me, yes. But I did it to myself. And I’m continuing to put myself in the same pain. That’s on me. No one else. So no one else should have to suffer the consequences. I’m okay even though I’m really not okay. It’s not him I’m letting destroy me bc it’s him who truly makes me feel alive, I’m destroying myself. Satan is using this heartbreak against me and I’m giving them the power to consume the little bit of me that I have to offer someone else. Like I said, I’m not depressed bc of him and I’m not allowing him to be the reason I’m numb... I just think the constant “why” or “why not” or “when” is slowly drowning me. I’ve said many times in my poems that my love for him is the most unconditional love I’ve ever experienced in my life and I know that is a once in a lifetime type of love, a true f*cking love that I just can’t grasp isn’t a two way street, and that is what is driving me insane. I could continue typing for hours and days and months and years about this but again, I’m keeping you out of that now.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Why I Stopped Waiting for Love to Happen to Me

http://fashion-trendin.com/why-i-stopped-waiting-for-love-to-happen-to-me/

Why I Stopped Waiting for Love to Happen to Me

I am not a rash woman. I make careful, thoughtful decisions. I’m a “why?” person; I won’t really do something unless there’s a specific purpose for it. My friend Jordan used to describe me as “calculated” to random people — which was only mildly insulting because, despite the negative connotations surrounding the word, she was kind of right.

In the giant chess board that is my life, I move pieces with deep consideration and forethought. So when I blew off my family Thanksgiving and hopped in a car to Chicago to crash the birthday party of my crush — a friend of my friends — people were confused.

I had no game plan. It was a last-minute call. He had no idea I was coming, or that I even liked him beyond our mutual friend’s passing mention that he should make a move over the summer while he visited. (He did not.) I knew my friend’s nudge had probably been long-forgotten, and I knew it was possible he wouldn’t return my interest, but I decided to ignore my doubts, fears and shyness, and go to Chicago anyway.

But sometimes all you need is a few stars to align, a bit of intrigue, and a dash of confidence.

His lack of knowledge about my interest wasn’t the only barrier to starting a relationship either; he lives in San Francisco, I live in Ann Arbor, Michigan. But sometimes all you need is a few stars to align, a bit of intrigue, and a dash of confidence. When he heard about my whirlwind attempt to catch up with him on his birthday, he asked me out on an official date the next night. My adrenaline was still pumping the next morning during our first real moments alone together, on the couch of our friends’ large Chicago Airbnb, just hours before I had to head back home on a train.

“Why?” he asked me, with a sort of confused laugh, partly pleased and partly skeptical. In a culture where we hide behind screens and romantic intentionality is somewhat of a fading relic, I said the only thing I could think to say: “I just had a gut feeling about you.”

The decision to go to Chicago may have seemed rash on the surface, or out of character to everyone who knows me, but it felt perfectly purposeful to me. That’s because when it comes to love, maybe love or potential love, I’d already decided no risk is too big.

Despite living thousands of miles apart, we’ve talked and texted every day since. We’ve endured three cross-country trips between the two of us, despite chaotic job schedules. The odds are stacked against us, but I haven’t been more excited or hopeful about someone in a long time.

If you want to call this interpersonal commingling we now do “dating” — you have to get comfortable with improbability.

If you take each individual connection in a vacuum, the chances you’ll fall together and not apart are low. But after talking to many modern couples over the past several years, I’ve discovered a few foundational principles that increase your odds. There’s one in particular I want to share with you today, the very one that caused me to climb into that car back in November: To date today — if you want to call this interpersonal commingling we now do “dating” — you have to get comfortable with improbability. All love is improbable, and the strongest relationships are built on the strongest connections, no matter the variables involved.

In researching my book on relationships, I listened to a lot of great love stories. On the surface, I can’t think of many I’d call “probable.” Some of my favorites, off the top of my head? One, a couple who was broken up for five years before they both mutually realized they were absolutely right for each other. Two, a husband who told his now-wife he’d help find her a great boyfriend when she was finally ready to date again after a horrible split from her ex. Three, a long-term couple who began dating just two days after he filed for divorce. Four, partners who met in kindergarten and married in their thirties. Five, a pair who talked for nine months cross-country before taking a big ol’ leap to live together in the same city; they have two kids now.

Maybe that last one inspired my current situation, although I suspect the whole concept of “improbable” did one better; after many diligent months of research, I internalized that modern love is just that. Even when I think about youngish committed couples in my own social circle, few have a straightforward romantic trajectory — despite how, growing up, my mom used to repeat refrains like, “when you know you know,” “or, “when it’s right, it’ll be easy.” Oh, how the world and relationships have changed.

I think about love’s improbability a lot. We are wired to sample the field and delay commitment until we’re “ready,” or feel certain we know what we want, testing different types of connection in a vast sea of potential matches via Tinder, friends, bars, work, hobbies, and on and on. It’s the millennial dating version of optimal stopping theory, where you need to figure out when and for whom to take yourself off the market, except that the sample of suitors is virtually unlimited. Only you decide when you want to stop, or what’s worth investing in, as you determine what you want, need and are looking for in a partner.

Purely rational relationships with great-on-paper types don’t leave room for the highly irrational process of chemistry and connection.

But unless you are in a wonderful headspace to build a healthy relationship and meet a someone else who is in an equally commitment-ready state of mind, you might end up with a missed connection. The odds are stacked against us because, in addition to testing the field, we are a generation constantly in motion; we travel, we prioritize friends, we change jobs, we pursue degrees, we want to chase dreams and find fulfillment. Connections can seem fleeting; we’re not always looking, we’re coming off heartbreak, we’re still working through family baggage, we’re living a country apart from our love interest, work is crazy, etc, etc.

Where does love fit in? Again, only you decide when, with whom and how to invest an improbable landscape. Welcome to millennial adulthood.

The variables are such a mess, the romantic era we’ve inherited can feel hopeless. I’ve certainly cried about the apps, vented to my girlfriends about the ghosting, toasted all the bad days and broken hearts. But all the while, the improbability makes me sure of at least one thing: I’ll be braver when I encounter a potential connection.

Bravery, in the midst of improbability, is yet another hallmark of many modern-day loves. I had this conversation over the course of months with a good friend of mine, who waited a full year for her guy to finally commit again after his divorce. She was bold in her feelings, strong in her conviction that he was worthwhile, and steadfast in her patience with his timeline. “Everyone told me to let him go,” she said of her friends, who were playing the odds without knowing the connection. She didn’t let him go; she’s so glad.

If you’re like the vast majority of people looking for a single long-term love someday, connections that may lead to lasting relationships don’t come around often. The way I’ve decided to increase my odds is simple: Be brave in my feelings, bold in my risks, and cognizant of those strong connections. If I’m open and sure of what I feel, I can rest assured that I’ve given a connection a fair shot.

My goal is to ultimately end up with one person. As such, I’m not getting tangled in the logistics of this guy in San Francisco, wondering how it can all work out right now. Purely rational relationships with great-on-paper types don’t leave room for the highly irrational process of chemistry and connection. That is the glue in between, the reaction that forges a bond, the little spark of (necessary) madness.

Such inexplicable elements of modern love give this calculated woman hope, allowing me to make crazy decisions that just feel right. Is my current long-distance connection improbable? Sure. More improbable than my next online date? I’ll let you decide; I already know what I believe.

Collage by Louisiana Mei Gelpi.

[yoursomedaymom]

Your Dad

I’ve been meaning to write this post for over a year a half now, but I’ve been so incredibly distracted.

You see, I met your father. And truth be told, I knew I should have written about him to you after our first date, when the feelings were fresh and I could describe every word. But I had so many butterflies, I just couldn’t bring myself to write it out. I just wanted to sit with it all, and smile, and try to get to sleep so I could dream of him.

However, although I know I’m writing this a little late, I want you know how we met, and how our first date came to pass, because I know someday you’ll ask.

You see, I’d been working full time as a retoucher at a company called Happy Finish, and the company hired a new senior named Trevor. He seemed like a nice guy and it seemed like he’d fit with our team quite well. The first time we all went out for drinks we introduced ourselves and chatted about where we were from, and all the other pleasantries and questions you ask when you are making a new friend.  At some point, Trevor made a quick comment about how I should meet his brother. As I’m sure you’ve gathered, my dating life has been pretty rocky since, well, FOREVER, so I just smiled and moved on like I didn’t think anything of the comment.  All the while my internal monologue went something like “WHAT?! You seem nice, does that mean your brother nice? What does he look like, does he like Parks and Rec? SHOULD I MARRY HIM?! Just be cool Sierra, dammit.”

Cut to 30 minutes later, just after Trevor leaves, I try to see if I can find a photo of his brother on his Facebook, because I’m a total creep. My two coworkers and I are playing social media detectives together until we stumble across one photo of a guy named Tyrone. I say “Well I’m not sure that’s him, and in any case, Trevor might have just meant as friends or something. I’ll just chill out and see what happens.” This sudden change in excitement caused by the insanely good looks of the man in the photo. He’s gorgeous, and every man I’ve dated has made me feel ugly and undesirable, so naturally when I see this hunk of a man I assume he won’t be interested. I try to get rid of any bold optimism that could lead to a painful rejection.

So time goes on for a bit, and Trevor sits across from my desk and we start to become friends and I try to just forget about the brother comment. In the meantime I go on a few dates with a guy that had a moped. I honestly don’t remember his name, because to my friends I just called him scooter guy. We just weren’t clicking, but I hadn’t been on a bike since my grandfather used to take me on rides and I loved it. I decided around that time to start saving to sign up for a motorcycle endorsement class.

Within the next month my good friend Louise told me that her and Tom had run into Trevor and his brother at Pine State Biscuits and they said they were there because their sister worked there. She said they both hugged her and they seemed really sweet and like a really close family. She said that she thinks his brother is the one in the photo we looked at. I take in the information and smile, but try to put it out of mind. I was just on the mend of being let down and I didn’t want to let myself get excited about someone I knew nothing about.

Shortly after, we had some downtime at work and I was starting to look at motorcycles online, and telling a few friends in the office that I was thinking of signing up for the class. One day Trevor sent me a message on the company chat app and said “My brother rides a motorcycle! You guys should hang out sometime and he could give you tips” and sent me a link to his Facebook.

Whoa! Is this real? The first time seemed just like a little comment in the wind, but this is a second time, and there’s a link. Maybe he actually thinks I should meet his brother. I respond staying “I can’t stalk your brother’s profile, I’d feel like such a creep”. “No” he says, “It’s totally not weird, I showed him your profile already”. WHOA. What? What even is my profile photo right now? Have I posted something stupid? I didn’t know this beautiful man was looking!!

After about a week or so, I hit the button to request him as a friend on Facebook. He accepted immediately. Ok... that’s cool. No big deal, we’re friends. This is chill. A week goes by and he likes one of my photos. WHOA! First contact. No big deal though... Stay chill Sierra. Another week goes by with nothing and I decide, you know what, I’m curious. So I’ll just send a message. I’m still not truly invested, I don’t know him, and I’m not looking for another situation to get hurt. But I would like to meet this fellow.

So I sent him the following message, “Hi! Your awesome brother Trevor says you are relatively new in town and could stand to meet some new people. I happen to be a new person, a rather friendly and awesome one at that, so if you'd like to hang out sometime let me know!” He responded with “Well ok, but only if you are as awesome as you say you are.” to which I responded “If anything I probably undersold myself.”

Later that week after a few messages back and forth, I proposed the idea of a movie at the park. He said it sounded great and a date was set. I had intro’d with the bit about him maybe needing a new friend, so I hadn’t considered it too much of a date yet. But as the day drew nearer, he asked if he could pick me up and take me for a drink before hand. WHOA! That seems promising! That seems date-ish! This idea was become ever more clear when he sent a message about being excited about meeting me. Ummmmm HELLO! That’s the first undoubtable flirt. Hell. Yes.

Which had me so excited, and so incredibly terrified. This guy sounded great. He rides a motorcycle, he is nice to his brother and sister while eating biscuits, and he’s got some super hot photos on FB. But, then there’s me. A girl who, from my opinion of myself at the time, had not been able to live up to the standards of any man she’d dated. I was never enough. To top it off I was voted most photogenic my senior year, which I’m sure most would take as a complement but just gave me a complex about looking better in my photos than in real life. NOT want you want to think about when you are meeting someone who’s only seen you in photos.

But the day came. And I went downstairs and there he was waiting. I honestly can’t remember a word we said to each other on the way to the bar. It’s the same feeling I had when I did my one and only solo in a choir concert in high school. Right after it was over, I had no idea what just happened. I got so nervous, it was like just my memory blacked out.

At the bar we talked about where we were from and about his motorcycke and a few other things. At some point we circled back to where we were from (because we were both shy and nervous and decided to recap) and I knew he had grown up with Trevor in Virginia but moved to Oregon from Florida. So naturally, I asked what took him to Florida. He took a beat and said “umm... well, I was married there”. And then preceded to tell me about his marriage, and his divorce. I know this might sound silly, and I’m not sure I fully understand it myself, but I think that was the first time your dad struck my heart. He didn’t have to tell me he was divorced. This was our first date. But he was so sweet, and so open. And strange as it is, that was the first moment I knew he was into me and that meeting me hadn’t been some colossal disappointment. He thought I was worth opening up to, and that made me so so happy.

We then drive to the park, and grabbed the camp chairs he had brought for us and started walking to the movie. We walked, and we walked, and saw a very pretty, very much empty, park. I started getting confused. “I swear there’s usually like hundreds of people, but I haven’t been to this specific park before, maybe it’s just in a different area.” So we keep walking..... and.... nothing”. He checks the schedule and says “today’s not the 15th” and I say “I know but it said Saturday though right?” And he said “yeah Saturday the 15th” and I say “but today’s Saturday the 13th”. He takes a beat, slowly looks up and me and says “It’s June. This movie is in July”.

OH MY GOSH.

EXCUSE ME WHILE I DIE.

I turned every shade of red and was mortified. I said “I know we just met but I’m not going to be able to make eye contact with you for at least five minutes” and held my hand up to shield my eyes. He laughed and we made our way back to the car. We went to dinner instead and had a great night. It didn’t end with a kiss, but I did awkwardly kiss him at the end of our second date. So, you know, I made it happen.

There are so many more posts I will write about Your incredible father. But for tonight I just figured I would jot down where it all started. And how I scarily stumbled into the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the most amazingly perfect man.

And just so you know, the only reason I’m writing this post right now, is because it’s now February of 2018, and I’m now laying next to that gorgeous man I saw in the photo, because he’s my husband. And it’s 12:30am and I can’t sleep, because I’m distracted by the butterflies I still have. I can’t wait to tell you more about him, but just know, that all I ever wished for was someone that wouldn’t hurt you, that would protect you from harm, and that wouldn’t ever leave you. And what I got, was a partner in life, and someone that I hope I can live up to partnering back. He’s someone that shows me how to love deeper, and is going to make me a better mother. Instead of worrying about how he’s going to be, I’m relying on him to help me figure out what to do.

We got the best, most amazing man. And I cannot WAIT you to meet him. 💕

Sending you every bit of my love,

Your Someday Mom