Although I was less than kind to Anya, it also served as my life’s most heartfelt moment. I often reflected on her situation—how broken and vulnerable she had to feel inside. How her tears felt like they came from my own eyes. I sincerely met up with her for only one reason; to give her marriage some much needed oxygen by setting out to prove the grass wasn’t greener on the other side. Playing the solitary role of a honey bee pollinating flowers in the garden of her marriage. After she shared her husband’s multiple infidelities, it rattled the bee in me enough to use its stinger, the only defense mechanism I had, leaving her stranded—while killing the empathy in me in order to save my own heart. On the night I walked away from Anya, I came home and soundly slept. The following days that turned into months, though, allowed me time to construct an irritable ideology, whether out of guilt or compassion, on how she must have felt. Although I greatly wanted her pain and resentment to subside, unbeknownst to her, I’ve opened up my heart to the pain of two women before her—being left aggrieved by them regardless of the empathy I showed. I never intended to hurt her; I just couldn’t afford to get caught headfirst in the flame again.

When Alan and I returned home from San Francisco, we went to dinner to discuss our plan for the new audits we had. My days usually began at eight in the morning and ran all the way up until ten in the evening. Most of those days were split between time spent at a client’s office and my home office in Irvine. I’ve had similar days, like this one resembling a partner’s, when I’d jump on a plane for a quick meeting followed by a dinner after the return flight, but they happened only a few times a year. During this particular dinner, Alan wanted to thank me and to know what I thought of Mr. Caiaphas.

“I found him to be quite gregarious.” I smiled. “Much more than I am.”

“That he was!” Laughed Alan, unfolding a napkin upon his lap. “Truly.”

“I really liked what he had to say about the importance of family and cementing relationships with all those around him…building loyalty and trust.” I stated, placing the cloth napkin upon my lap as well. “He’s a total character client. Not that we have a bad clientele, but he has the money behind him to take the firm to levels unprecedented.”

“I agree. I think we’d be lucky to have his business.” He nodded. “A diamond in the rough.”

“Do you think we have a good chance at landing him?”

“The one thing I’ve learned in this business over the years, Landyn, is that nothing is what it seems until you have a signed engagement letter in your hand.” He informed me. “Until then, I will say this…thanks to you, I like our chances.”

When I first started with KSR, it was natural to be intimidated by Mr. Kanian. I had to pass by his office each time walking into work, and purposely increased my pace to avoid a conversation. Fearing he would quiz me on my accounting knowledge, then finding out how little I knew, he would then fire me. In my second year, I felt a little more comfortable and when we did talk, it was about everything but accounting. By year three he was reviewing my workpapers in front of me. Although I made a few simple errors from time to time, he always ribbed me good naturedly—even admitting to making even worse mistakes in his career’s early years. Now, five months into year six at the firm, I felt comfortable enough to call him a friend as much as a boss.

A week later, I was scheduled for an audit engagement in Hesperia, about a ninety-minute drive from the Irvine home office. I referred to it as Despairia because the location was out in the high desert among the tumbleweeds. The area often experienced high wind advisories and it wasn’t unusual to see tipped over semis on the freeway due to the strong gusts. A potential treacherous drive worried me a bit, especially at sundown after working ten plus hours and having a long drive home in heavy traffic. With all the driving over the last six years without a single accident or even a close call, I feared my luck may run out.

I normally oversaw a staff of three—a Senior Auditor, who ran the engagement, and two Staff Auditors who assisted the Senior. Since the Senior on the Despairia job was on vacation, I assumed his role on the audit. The problem was, my rate was almost double that of a Senior. In order to keep the job under budget, removing one of the Audit Staff off the job was a must. That person usually gets reassigned to another audit, but it throws off their schedule a bit. I remember being thrown to the wolves during my first job as an Audit Staff. The Senior on the job basically tossed a cash audit program on my lap, leaving me alone to figure things out at the client’s office. When asked to introduce myself to everyone on my first day, I told my coworkers and superiors I passed all four parts of the CPA exam on my first sitting. There was no intention to brag about myself, but more about an extension of my low sense of self-worth…I just didn’t want my coworkers to think I wasn’t qualified enough. It ended up being a big-time rookie mistake. Either the manager my first day had a ton of faith in me or took my achievement personally—it felt like the latter. I simply didn’t realize most seniors and even managers, who were with the firm for years, had yet to pass it. From that point on, I stayed mum on telling others I’ve passed the CPA exam, let alone passing it the first time taking it. Learning on the fly paralyzed me enough to go well over budgets my first year—I never wanted them to experience the same stress regardless of the budget constraints. The firm didn’t spend their time and money on their recruitment just to see them quit. To throw our audit staff to the wolves would be undermining the entire recruiting and hiring process. It was my duty to give the firm’s newbies an even better shot at being more successful than I was.

“Mr. Lastman?” Squeaked Nicole Ayers, the lone remaining staff auditor on the Despairia engagement, in a distressed tone.

“You okay, Nikki?”

“Not really.” She said, her fingers running through her dark brown hair. “I can’t get this schedule to reconcile—I’m off by three thousand six hundred dollars.”

“What’s our deminimus?”

“Thirty-five hundred.”

“I guess we better look at it then. Can you email the recon to me?”

“Sure.” She sighed; her fingers frantically poking the keys on the laptop. “Sent.”

“Thanks. Let’s see what’s goin’ on here.”

When her small olive cheekbones turned red and her light blue eyes began to swell with water, I knew she was super frustrated. I hoped to save her the worry—anything below our calculated materiality deminimus we could pass on reviewing due to its immateriality. Since the amount was a hundred dollars over our deminimus, though, we had to investigate and reconcile the difference. I’m sure Nikki beat up the account enough to be frustrated—like striking a pinata for a half hour only to learn there’s no candy inside. A simple query to a client usually prevented us from spinning our wheels, but I preferred having that kind of face time with company executives rather than the newbies. I instructed my audit staff to give me any questions they had before approaching the client about them. The newbies usually had a hard time understanding how to reconcile variances in their first year, and I wanted to protect them from any client hostility. Nikki was really sharp, but like most who cared about doing a good job, it was easy to get frustrated when things went wrong. How do I know this? Because I expected a lot from myself too. Take it from someone who passed the CPA exam the first time he ever took it—it doesn’t matter, nothing could prepare someone for the inevitable stress from “real world” situations you encounter in your professional accounting career.

“It looks like they didn’t record a disposal on the sale of one of their vehicles. It’s still on their books.” I said, quickly noting how the fixed asset schedule she sent me didn’t agree to our tax report. “How would you handle this entry, Nikki?”

“I have to be honest…I’ve never done an entry on a disposal before, Mr. Lastman.” She disclosed, her voice cracking. “Am I in trouble for not knowing? Mr. Kash got upset with me the last time I couldn’t answer his question about an entry.”

Kevin and I had different managing styles when it came to communication with our staff. He treated their early professional growth as a hazing opportunity, no doubt experiencing flashbacks from his frat days. He even hazed me when I was new, but my skin was thicker back then. For the most part he was fair with his subordinates, but he intentionally tested them to see if they were partner material. I feared losing great future partners by testing my audit staff the way he did, and steered myself away from doing so. Who was I to discourage anyone from pursuing a career with KSR? I never cared for being judged and refused to do so in a condescending manner to anyone else. I knew the fear of losing my dreams all too well and had no right to take someone else’s away from them, unless they just didn’t care about the opportunities they had. When I noticed Nikki’s eyes swelling even more, she seemed to be experiencing a Kevin Kash flashback.

“Nikki, I’m here to help you grow professionally, not to judge you.” I consoled. “Don’t be afraid of not knowing anything—we all learn through experience. Nobody comes straight from the womb knowing this stuff.”

“Yeah, but I graduated with honors from UCLA.” She told me. “I should know this.”

“Hey, school is great, but the real world is much different. I’m here to set you up to be successful…not to fail.” I replied, hoping to ease her mind. “Just take a shot at it. What would you do?”

“I don’t know…”

“Just think about it for a second. How do we get the vehicle off the books?” I asked, hinting to the first step of the entry.

“I would…credit the asset and debit the accumulated depreciation?” She answered, her wide eyes full of hope and doubt.

“Alright…I have another question for you.” I said, bringing my eyes back to my lap top screen.

“Yes?” She wondered with distress in her voice.

I then turned my face to her and smiled.

“Why’d you lie to me about not knowing the entry?” I replied.

“I got it right?”

“You nailed it! Then you just debit the cash from the sale, or whatever the fair market value of the asset they received in return was and then plug the difference.” I added. “If the plug is a debit, it’s a loss and if it’s a credit, a gain.”

“It’s that easy?” She smiled, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Eazy Peezy.” I replied, softly touching her right shoulder with my left fist.

“I can’t believe it was that easy. I stressed out for nothing.”

“The only hard thing was overcoming your fear…that’s never easy for anyone who is just starting off their accounting career.” I said while reconciling the schedule for her on my laptop. “You knew the answer all along. All you have to do is stay confident in your ability. This isn’t brain surgery. Don’t let the way Kevin responds affect your confidence. You wouldn’t have been hired if the partners believed you couldn’t do this.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lastman. I’ll remember that.”

“I’ve been where you are, Nikki. Don’t hesitate to ask me anything.” I reassured. “I just sent you back the schedule so you can go ahead and propose an entry to the client. They were the ones who screwed up here.”

When Nikki started to laugh, I felt relieved. The client provided our tax department with the vehicle sale documents but neglected to record the sale on their books—where the true incompetence came from, but that’s what we’re here for.

“Mr. Lastman?”

“What now?” I joked, but expecting another accounting related question. “I’m kidding!”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” She laughed.

“I was totally joking. I couldn’t help it.” I smiled. “I have to entertain myself sometimes.”

“This question is completely off topic but you’re on Myspace, aren’t you?”

Her question threw me off. I had a Myspace account but rarely used it, having only a few friends on there, with none of them being people I worked with.

“I do.” I confirmed. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

“My friends and I came upon it.” She revealed.

“How’d you even find it?” I laughed.

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Mad? I think I’m more concerned about your well-being after seeing my picture. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh, come on Mr. Lastman. Stop it.” She hit me. “Some of the female audit staff thinks you’re a hotditor.”

“A what?”

“Hot, Auditor…a Hotditor.” She laughed. “You’ve never heard that before? Come on, you know it’s true.”

“A hotditor? Never have and nothing could be further from the truth.” I said shaking my head. “They must have had way too much to drink at our last happy hour or somethin’.”

“Nope.” She confirmed. “Whenever you’re in the office, they always say “the hotditor is here today”.”

“That’s very nice of them, but they need to schedule eye examinations.” I replied, unable to look at her. “They’re due for checkups.”

“Oh, please! We should schedule our next happy hour at that bar you go to!” She exclaimed. “Sonomas, right?”

“We can go anywhere else but there.” I said, making sure I made eye contact with her so she knew I meant it.

“Well, I’ll admit we were just tryin’ to cheer up my friend’s roommate when we checked out your Myspace account the other night.” Nikki revealed.

“What’s wrong with your friend?” I asked, thankfully breaking away from the prior conversation.

“She broke up with her boyfriend last week…I told her about you.”

“You did?”

“I told her you were a super sweet guy and she wanted to see your picture, sooo…that’s how we found you on Myspace.”

Landyn Lastman; sweet guy extraordinaire—I’ve heard that one before. If a girl was willing to date a guy because he was “sweet”, could she have been very attractive? I’ve learned after thirty-seven lonely years, if she was attractive, the last thing she wanted was a sweet guy…unless she was married. Being a part of this movie before and knowing how it ended, I tried to dismiss myself from being the booby prize.

“And she’s still your friend’s roommate after showing her a picture of me? She might need to flush her eyes out with water after that experience.”

“Come on. Mr. Lastman…grow up and accept you’re a cute guy.”

“Puppies are cute, Nikki.” I replied, turning my blushing face away from her and to my laptop screen.” “Not old dogs.”

“Well, she must be into old dogs because she wants to meet you.” She divulged. “Would you go out on a date with her? She’s really pretty.”

The last thing I expected to receive from helping my audit staff was a date proposal with her roommate’s friend. When Nikki said she was “really pretty”, I had to admit it got my interest… until I remembered women usually said that when they tried to sell each other. If it had come from another man, I could easily put trust in such a proclamation. Nikki was always friendly, but never giving the impression she cared about my dating status. Then again, being so zeroed in on my career I didn’t notice much—especially anything said about me being a “hotditor”. Every male at KSR must have been a hotditor on some level if I received the title. Although nearly seven years had passed since Denise left me, if I still couldn’t find it in my heart again to believe in love, then I’d only be wasting her friend’s time. Facts were facts—I’ve had nothing but bad luck with women and nothing has ever gone right with any of them. I couldn’t afford to have another relationship go sour—particularly making my respected colleagues privy to my failures with women as well. I needed to talk myself out of this.

“I don’t know what to say…” I said, hoping my hotditor status wouldn’t be affected.

“Just say you will.” Answered Nikki.

“I’m flattered…really I am…but I just can’t.” I told her. “I don’t have much luck in the dating arena…it’s not a good idea.”

“Come on, Mr. Lastman. Please? She’s really sweet…and what did you just tell me?”

“What did I just tell you?”

“About overcoming our fears?” She clarified.

“Yeah, but…” I replied, struggling to come up with a good response.

“It’s alright to practice what you preach every now and then.” Smiled Nikki, quickly blinking her eyes daring me to try and find a way out of that one.

“I’ve created a monster.” I succumbed.

“A good one, not a scary one!” She laughed. “I’ll send you her Myspace address—her name is Alexia Molten. Just send her an e-mail.”

It was truly amazing that my new credo about how accounting and life was about overcoming one’s fears could bite me so quickly in the arse. It also made me realize how fear ruled my life since Denise vacated it. I just struggled with loss more than most people—the price for being a passionate person. I had become so afraid to feel only to lose again, that it paralyzed my life, but what if I was better suited to love and not lose this time around? There’s no doubt my life improved after losing Denise. I had my own place, drove a nice car and was financially sound. How was it possible to just write off love after becoming a man with something to offer? I didn’t believe I was a ‘hotditor’, but I only needed the woman I loved to believe that nonsense. Why was I still holding onto this fear of disappointment? How could I continue living in a treeless world when all I needed was one seed in the ground to breathe again? Who the hell did I think I was? Nikki was right—I needed to practice what I preached. I couldn’t walk around giving advice to others without taking it myself. When life changes, we have to evolve, and that included my fear of falling in love. The only thing I had left to lose were my feelings of self-doubt. I had to start from somewhere again, why not with someone who might appreciate me?

“Alexia, huh.” I muttered.

“Alexia Molten.”

“It’s a date then.” I smiled, as I clasped my hands together. “Sounds like fun.”

“More fun than Mateo’s!”

“It’s Sonomas! Get with the program.”

“Oh, sooo sorry.” She mocked. “Sonomas”

“That’s right…and don’t you forget it!” I scolded jokingly.

“I’ll let her know the hotditor is goin’ to email her.” She giggled.

All I could do was shake my head and smile at this point. Whether I believed that was true or not was irrelevant—I could use the pick me up.

A few days later I finally found the time, but mostly the courage, to sign into Myspace to email Alexia. Whether she was attractive or not, I planned to ask if she wanted to meet regardless—to remain in Nikki’s good graces. When I signed in, the first thing I noticed was an unread email in my inbox. When I opened it, it floored me—Alexia had beaten me to the punch, even asking for a friend request. What left me unable to speak, though, wasn’t her thoughtful nature but how stunningly attractive she was—so much so this had to be a prank. I figured this was karma from all my prank calling days. After all I’ve been through, I knew being attracted to someone didn’t matter much if a woman lacked empathy, and although their physical appearance never held the greatest weight with me, I had to make an exception—Alexia’s bordered the spectacular. As I read her Myspace profile to get a more accurate picture of who she was, I learned that beyond her long straight light brown hair and vivid green eyes, she was educated and a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic. I then measured myself up to her, immediately feeling she was too good for me—the kind of guy men would look at and wonder if she was partially blind or if I was massively rich or hung. Then again, I’ve never come face to face with the great white whale, and maybe, just maybe, a hopeless romantic would appreciate meeting another.

I responded back to her email and we decided to meet at the Good Morning Café—the same venue I had my one and done date with Carrie a little over six months ago. I had a couple of more reasons to feel better about my chances better this time around. The first being, this date was essentially setup with the help of someone who already knew me, even thinking highly enough of me to make it a reality. The second, as crazy as this might sound, was how well written Alexia’s email was—not one grammar mistake and even the commas were in the right place. Once you’ve had your heart broken a few times, you start paying attention to every single detail that can save you from heartache. You start to pick things apart just to avoid being in another position to be hurt. Alexia’s attention to details made me feel important to her; someone she not only planned to give a chance to but also wanted to impress. I knew all about painful breakups, and I didn’t know if we were made for each other, but I was certain about one thing—we were at least destined to meet. If things went well on this date, I had a strong feeling it could be the last first date for both of us.

On the night of our date, I was there a half hour early hoping to find a secluded spot for us. Since it was a warm Thursday evening, the inside of the café was empty compared to the outside patio area. Upon entering the coffee shop, a sense of gratitude flowed through me when recalling Carrie’s barely touched latte after she drove away my last time here—finding it a shame I couldn’t thank her for allowing me the opportunity to meet a far better match. Seeing the table I wanted was open, I placed my cell phone down on its surface to save it. I then promptly got in line behind two other people—I needed to get some caffeine in me before she arrived in twenty minutes. Since Alexia liked white mochas, I decided to get her a drink too. While waiting in line, a loud voice suddenly blared incoherently throughout the café.

“Fifteen years in the Huntington Beach school district as a TEACHER! Don’t tell me I don’t KNOW! I got an education in school and from the STREETS! Odelay Holmes!”

I turned around to see a gray-haired thickset gentleman, possibly in his early sixties with his hands cupped against his mouth as if he had a megaphone. He wore a shiny white and blue jacket with light blue jeans and was sitting at the lone table next to the front counter. This man should’ve been wearing a purple blazer since he had everyone’s attention in the place. After hearing the greatest blanket statement ever uttered, I couldn’t help but wonder who it was meant for—let alone, where it came from. The worrisome part wasn’t only from its place of origin, but how it was followed by an ‘Odelay Holmes’—he was the most Caucasian man I’ve ever seen. My eyes then somehow fell in the direction of his red and blue trimmed tube socks, bulging with something of value to him. Upon noticing a graveyard of ripped open pink packages of sugar substitute on top of his table, it suggested why his socks resembled Christmas stockings. Before I could turn away, he caught me in the middle of my observation.

“Hey! I remember YOU!” He announced to the ten or so patrons in the café as he sprung from his chair.

At first, mostly because I would’ve definitely remembered meeting him, I thought he was talking to someone else. After staring directly at me for ten seconds awaiting a response, it was now my duty to jog his memory.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I think you have me confused with someone else…” I answered nervously, this guy had to be on something more than sugar substitute.

“No. You were here with a pretty brunette…GORGEOUS!” He bellowed with an excitement all his own and with a hand covering his mouth.

Nothing in the entire world made me more uncomfortable than being the center of attention—a position I could only stomach with alcohol. At least ten people inside the cafe were relieved he didn’t know them, and who likely thought we were two lost pals reunited after spending years in the same sanitarium. The fact he covered his mouth while speaking to me, as if any part of this conversation was secret, seemed to suggest he was missing a few hundred marbles. Each time he nodded sternly when finishing a sentence, it was only natural for me to wonder if serial killers had their own morse code.

“I apologize, Sir…I believe you have me mixed up with someone else.” I politely responded, taking a step away from him, placing my right hand on my chest and shaking my head. “That wasn’t me.”

“No. I never forget a FACE!” He exclaimed then nodding his head, his hand still treating this as a top secret conversation. “It was about six months ago…MAYBE FIVE! Gorgeous brunette…a KNOCK OUT!”

Only after he provided this recollection did it hit me—he remembered my date with Carrie. Not only was it crazy he remembered us, but how the hell did I never notice him in such a small cafe? Then again, my eyes and ears were elsewhere that day.

“That’s quite a memory you have there, Sir.” I replied, hoping it would calm him down a bit. “I was in here with a girl, a brunette, about six months ago.”

“I never forget a FACE!” He exclaimed, while extending the hand not covering his mouth to me. “My name is Dave. DAVE HUMBLE.”

“Nice to meet you.” I obliged, reluctantly meeting his gesture while hoping he wouldn’t ask for my name.

“I remember YOU!” He reminded me. “I have a memory like the SEA! I’m the old man…FROM THE SEA! Odelay Holmes!”

I had moved one spot in line, but no doubt it took longer since everyone’s eyes in the café were on us. As I stood there, frozen with trepidation thinking Alexia would walk in any second then run for the hills, he placed his free hand lightly on my left shoulder.

“I was a teacher in the Huntington Beach school district for fifteen years.” He stated again but in a much lower tone. “If you were one of my students, I’d still be teaching. You’re as quiet as a mouse. I’m loud; north…south, but I met a killer whale—stuck my head in its mouth.”

When he mentioned “killer whale”, it brought me back to when a particular water park, Aquaticland, closed down when I was eight years old. I always wanted to go but never got the chance to—it was only twenty minutes away from my parent’s house.

“Didn’t Aquaticland have to close down because of a killer whale mishap?” I asked, attempting to make sense of his level of crazy since he claimed to have a good memory. “Do you remember anything about that?”

“NO.”

“Oh.”

“I had a playboy playmate in my MERCEDES!” He expounded.

“Excuse me?” I wondered thoroughly confused.

“I still have my head though.” He nodded, his hand never leaving his mouth. “No more killer whales for ME! I’m back HOME.”

As he sat back down then grabbing a newspaper from a plastic grocery store bag sitting on the free chair at his table, I had no idea how to respond.

“Good to see you again. Take care.” He calmly said, his head now buried into his newspaper.

I found it very conscientious of him to time the end of his rant with it being my time to order. Even he had to question what the purpose of our conversation was but it did allow me to come to at least one conclusion—he had no clue why Aquaticland had to close down years ago. He clearly had some things to get off his chest, whatever they were, leaving me with no choice but to be of service to him. After I ordered our drinks, I brought them to the secluded table I envisioned us having for our date. Before I could take a sip of my atrial fuel, I heard an ‘all too familiar’ voice yelling my name.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Landyn! Dude! What are you doin’ here!”

With ten minutes left on the clock before Alexia walked through the door, it was none other than Mitch Black in his trademark Velcro strap shoes.

“Hey.” I raised my right hand to acknowledge him as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

“It sure is a nice night…” He exclaimed, his eyes scoping out the place while walking towards me. “to meet some ladies here at the Café!”

When he made sure everyone in the place heard his intentions, I put my head into my hands and shook my head. If Alexia meets Mitch, she is going to run out of here sooner than Carrie did. I had about nine minutes to find a way to lose him before she arrived.

“You’re on your own there.” I said, standing from my chair and pointing in the direction of Dave, his head still buried in a newspaper. “Just know you have some stiff competition right there, my friend.”

“What are you talkin’ bout?”

“That crazy guy right there.” I replied in a low tone, jerking my head over in Dave’s direction. “You’ll have to step up your game…he has dibs on this place.”

“That guy? Dave?” He acknowledged, looking over and pointing right at him while I hid my face in my hands again. “He’s not crazy, man. Dave’s cool.”

“Yeah, right…you knew who I was referrin’ to before I even mentioned his name.”

“Trust me…he’s not crazy.” Mitch said in a surprisingly leveled down tone. “Dave’s just misunderstood.”

“Mitch.” I replied shaking my head, looking down at Dave’s bulging socks. “The man should be in a straitjacket.”

“The dude’s been through some rough times.” Defended Mitch, as I took another sip of my cappuccino. “How would you deal with life after goin’ through five divorces?”

Choking on my drink, I tried to recover to respond.

“Five times?’ I struggled to say, while coughing.

“That’s right.”

“Don’t you think it requires a measurable amount of insanity to get married again after the first time?”

“Some people actually believe in love.” Clarified Mitch.

“What!” I said, wondering what kind of alternative universe I found myself in. “Is that what you think it is? Love?”

“No doubt, dude.”

“If it was love, don’t you think at least one of his marriages would’ve lasted?” I countered, trying to reason with the unreasonable.

“Whatever…you don’t know a damn thing.”

“I would like to think I know what love is and what it isn’t.” I shot. “Now if you would please excuse me, I’m meeting someone here in five minutes and I need to make a good first impression.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re meeting that married chick here?” He stated, raising his right hand to me. “I’m gonna smack you if you are.”

“No, it’s not her.” I answered, hoping he would leave me alone and walk away.

“Good…I don’t like her. She reminds me of my phony ex.”

“Mitch, all because someone reminds you of your ex doesn’t mean they’re the same person. You don’t even know her and already you’re passing judgment on her. You’re doin’ the same thing a racist does.” I reprimanded. “Not every woman is evil.”

“I know she’s a liar.” He stated. “That’s all I need to know about her to make a judgment call.”

“She actually liked me and she wanted me to like her too.” I said, putting my cup back on the table. “So, she stole a moment of happiness in her life. Big deal—no harm done.”

“Yeah, because I forced her to show you the rock on her finger.” He replied, pointing at his left hand’s ring finger.

“So, you’ve always been honest with women you meet at Sonomas about your life when you’re busy choppin’ wood?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“I’m not married.”

“You’re still misrepresenting yourself.” I asserted. “You’re not providing them with full disclosure. Intentional omission makes you a liar too.”

“Trust me, I know everything there is to know about that chick.”

“Name one thing.”

“She’s married.”

“Other than the obvious.” I sighed, my eyes rolling into my head.

“Listen…” He paused. “I’ve dated married women before—I know how they are.”

“What? How come you’ve never told me this before?”

“I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

Mitch pissed away opportunities in life I’ve had to work years for just to dream about having. He basically resided in a place that made Oscar the Grouch’s living arrangements seem lavish. He’s even catapulted himself at innocent women in bars and mouth raped one against her will yet he was worried about me thinking less of him?

“You gotta be kidding.” I grinned.

“I’m serious as a heart attack.”

“Impossible...I couldn’t think any less of you than I already do.” I laughed.

“It’s not funny, alright?” He scolded.

“I apologize. I don’t find your dating circumstances funny, just your contradictive nature.”

“I just know they’re all dishonest.” He said, shaking his head. “At least the four I’ve dated were.”

“You’ve dated four married women?”

“Whoa…let me back up. I lied about that.”

“Thank God.” I said, relieved to hear he had a conscience.

“Five.” He corrected, then nodded. “It was five…forgot one there.”

“Let me get this straight…”

“Go ahead.”

“You mean to tell me you hold this huge grudge against your ex, who cheated on you, yet here you are actively supporting it by dating married women?” I pointed out. “That doesn’t sound a little hypocritical to you?”

“Dude, just hear me out.” Objected Mitch, extending his palms out like a traffic cop telling me to stop. “This Anya chick is nothin’ but an attention whore who’s gotten bored with her marriage. Her husband probably neglects her so much her needs aren’t bein’ met—it’s the only reason she was interested in you.”

“That’s great.” I told him, shooing him away afraid Alexia could walk in at any second.

“You’re somethin’ new in her life…somethin’ fresh and exciting.” He continued. “If she was married to you, she’d eventually get bored with you too then do the same thing. You’re nothin’ special...it’s all an illusion—you’re only fillin’ a void in her marriage.”

“Wonderful.” I told him. “Can you please leave now?”

“Let me finish.” He demanded, ignoring my pleas. “I’m not sayin’ she’s a totally bad person but you got the calm before the storm. Did she tell you she’s not “in love” with her husband anymore?”

“She might have.” I replied, hoping it ended his diatribe. “Thanks for the advice, it was good seein’ you…”

“Well, guess what Dude? People in marriages fall out of love all the time. That’s what happens.” He informed me, as I looked away in frustration. “All you would be is marriage support for her at best—someone to latch onto to meet her needs; a shoulder to bitch on.”

“Well, I guess I’ll never know…now if you’ll excuse me…”

“Once the excitement wears off for her, she’s goin’ to let you go as fast as she approached you at Sonomas.” Further rambled Mitch. “I could see right through her—she’s a fraud.”

All I could do was roll my eyes upwards and shake my head. Not only was he pissing me off with his assumptions but was also threatening to ruin my meeting with Alexia.

“Land, I just call em’ like I see em’.” He said, finally sensing my opposition to his analysis. “I’ve seen this too many times. Trust me, man…she’s no different than the married women I’ve been with. It’s all about her. She’ll rip your heart from out of your chest and eat it in front of you…like you never meant a thing to her.”

“For your information, this lecture of yours was a complete waste of time because I have zero intentions of ever dating her.” I fiercely stated. “However, it’s not because she’s a ‘selfish bitch’ or because she’s a ‘liar’ or even because she’s an ‘attention whore’ or whatever else you think she is.”

“I think that pretty much sums it up.” Interjected Mitch.

“It’s not because of any of the things you think…it’s because she is married.” I said sternly. “I place a value on the institution of marriage unlike you. I respect her marriage whether she loves her husband or not. It’s that simple. Any questions?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I’m meetin’ someone, who will be walkin’ through that door any minute now, who happens to not be married. Do you have any advice for me regarding dating single women?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Great, so can you go get your drink and let me enjoy my date in peace?”

“Alright.” He replied, nodding his head with suspicious eyes. “I’m gonna leave you.”

“Much appreciated.”

“But I’m stickin’ around long enough to see if you’re really not meetin’ her here.”

“Trust me—it’s not Anya.” I reassured him. “You’re wasting your time.”

“We’ll see.” He told me as he started to walk away backwards, pointing a finger at me. “We shall see.”

I kept my eyes on him while sipping my cappuccino, daring him to stick around. His concern was appreciated, but all because his immoral ass dated five horrible women didn’t mean Anya was horrible too. He didn’t know her enough to pass judgment on her. He didn’t hear what I heard. He didn’t see what I saw and most importantly—he didn’t feel what I felt. He didn’t know about her husband’s infidelities, or the truth, enough to make a valid assessment of her. He didn’t know I left her at the bar alone in tears. He didn’t even know me, let alone how I gave up on love years ago. The less he knew the better off he was, and the better off I was too. I could never deny I had felt something for Anya—something I’ve never felt before, but turning my back on that feeling seemed to be the best decision I’ve made in my life. Being irrational about love was not an option anymore. It would’ve been nice if things were different in her life, but they weren’t and I had to turn the page on her.

I didn’t believe in love anymore, but approached meeting Alexia as whole heartedly as I did Denise. Although fearing the possibility of being hurt again, the risk seemed to be less than before—I simply had more to offer someone than I did in the past. My mind still wandered from time to time from Denise’s impact, but dreams of her coming back to me one day had died. It took me a long time to get over the finality of it from the lack of closure she never afforded me. It felt different with Alexia because there seemed to be no strings attached with her, especially a ring. When you’re secure financially, and your future looks bright, you’re naturally less fearful. I shouldn’t have had high hopes about meeting her but it was hard not to—especially when there’s a chance someone can give you a reason to believe in the goodness of life. Nothing had ever come easy for me, even the things I always thought would be easy to have. Things most people had in life. The hope of building a family and a future with someone. The type of girl who could make sense of all my failures with women. After all these years, after I swore off love, I still sought out the good in people. If she truly was the thoughtful person who emailed me first, who showed a genuine interest in getting to know me, I’d pour my heart and soul into her. Hell, I might even try to make the world a better place. It was just nice to put a face on hope again. The only remaining void in my life was never meeting the right one. The timing with Alexia seemed to be right, and if she was the real deal, I was willing to fall one more time for the last time.

When Alexia walked inside the café, dressed in a petite powder blue mini dress with white open toed heels, I spotted her right away. I also couldn’t ignore the one hundred eighty-degree spin Mitch made when he noticed her walk by him. To my surprise, she spotted me right away as well, even smiling when I rose to greet her. While we embraced, Dave poked his head from behind his shuffling newspaper then vigorously shook his head as if he was imagining things. He then buried his head back into his periodical, but quickly reappeared from it several more times to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Pulling her seat out, she looked up at me and smiled before sitting. After taking a seat across from her, I could see both Dave and Mitch staring right at me confirming how attractive Alexia was. Even Nikki’s description of her being “really pretty” was an understatement. Struggling to hold the laughter inside from the looks on their faces, Alexia’s lively green eyes suggested she had something on her mind.

“Would you mind if we sat on the couch instead?” She asked.

“Absolutely.” I said, in complete shock she wanted to share the small couch.

As we both rose from our chairs and moved to the maroon and gold couch behind us, I noticed she stood an inch taller than me. Chalking up the height difference to her heels, I hoped she wouldn’t count that as a strike against me. Then again, she had to know the couch was a tight fit and our legs would likely touch each other if my height bothered her. I just hoped she was truly fine with it because I was more than okay with the new seating arrangements. The minute we sat down on the much softer surface, our legs had no choice but to touch, lending a little more intimacy to a first date than I was used to. Compared to my last date with Carrie, this meeting was off to a truly promising start. In Carrie’s defense, I opened myself up way too much too soon—even talking about love to the point that it made her feel uncomfortable. With Alexia, I planned to keep it light and not show my hand. This time, though, I wasn’t bluffing—I had a solid hand to play.

After we sat, we began to exchange first date pleasantries. I thanked her for coming and for emailing me. Before I could pay a compliment on her appearance, she beat me to the punch by complimenting me first. When I handed her the white chocolate mocha, she thanked me for remembering what she liked. I then went to work on setting a light tone for our date. After learning how our days went, Alexia threw me a slurve.

“So, Landyn.” She said, turning to me while curling her hair behind her right ear as she sat to my right. “Have you ever been in love?”

The combination of the hope in her eyes and her unexpected question left me shellshocked—she must be looking for a way to end the date and walk out of here. After my last date with Carrie, it felt like Alexia had pointed a gun to my face forcing me to determine if there was a bullet in the chamber. My response had to be an honest one, it just couldn’t come with the details I’ve freely given out in the past. It was natural to feel inferior because of my experiences, but this was a new Landyn Lastman. A man who had more reasons to be confident in who he was than nearly seven years ago. Sure, there were guys more handsome and wealthier than me, but were they truly any better? In the past, it was easy to believe I wasn’t good enough for Alexia, or any other attractive girl, but I needed a different mindset on this date. The truth is I’m a caring man. A man who prefers giving rather than taking. A man who would give someone all of me, and not just a part of me I’m willing to give at certain times. A good man capable of saving her from a bad one. Unlike my date with Carrie, I had to get it right this time.

“Yeah.” I confessed. “It just never worked out.”

“How come? That’s surprising.”

“Really? That’s surprising?”

“Yes. Why didn’t it work out?”

“I’ve found that most people like to think they know what love is…” I paused, holding my breath knowing my response would kill any further element of surprise why my relationships never worked out for me. “but really have no idea what it means.”

“What gives you that impression?”

“Nowadays saying “I love you” are just ends to the means—only said out of obligation or to achieve peace…the divorce rates speak to that.” I explained, unable to meet her gaze. “Have you ever been in love?”

“I’ve been in love. I really put myself out there for my last boyfriend, but…” She trailed, placing her light brown hair behind her right ear again. “he didn’t feel the same way.”

“Now that’s surprising.” I replied, hoping to cheer her up.

She then smiled, and shifted her body closer to me, then crossing her right leg until it touched mine.

“How old are you?” She inquired.

“Thirty-seven.” I replied, sensing a test from her. “Are you even a day over twenty-one?”

“You’re very kind. Thank you. I’m twenty-seven.” She blushed. “You look so much younger than thirty-seven.”

“It’s probably because I don’t have any kids.” I smiled, taking a sip from my cup. “At least that’s how people tell me.”

“I didn’t know you were thirty-seven.”

“Nikki didn’t tell you?”

“She told me you were older than I was, but never gave me your age.”

“Do you prefer younger men?” I asked, expecting the bottom to fall out from under me since things were going pretty well. “A ten-year difference is pretty big. I’d understand.”

I expected this would end our date. Did she really want to be with a fifty-year-old when she turned forty? Alexia could easily get any man she wanted, even a more attractive older man than I was.

“I’m sick of dating younger guys.” She revealed.

“Is there a reason why?” I asked, her response making me feel insecure.

“They’re just out to have a good time.” She expounded, her eyes reaching for the ceiling. “I want a serious long-term relationship and I don’t have time waiting for them to grow up.”

When Alexia told me this, I wished I was ten years younger, so she knew there were young guys who wanted the same thing she did. All my life I’ve been searching for an Alexia, a woman who wanted the real thing. It was nice to know a woman existed who looked for the right things in someone. It was just a shame we both had to be hurt to find it.

“I was one of those dumb guys when I was in my early twenties. My ex was much more mature than I was back then.” I opened up. “But I’ve always wanted a long-term relationship, even in my early twenties…to build a family and have kids born from love with. I can’t believe something that should be fairly easy to have has been so difficult.”

“How come you’ve never been married?”

“I’ve just never been fortunate enough to meet the right one, Alexia.” I answered, my eyes falling into hers.

“Lexi.” She said with her kind eyes looking into mine, begging me to open up more. “You can call me Lexi.”

“Ok.” I nodded and smiled. “I’ve met women who were more interested in the kind of car I drive than the kind of man I am. I pretty much gave up on love and started to believe it was meant for other people to have.”

“Why would you think you’re unworthy of love?”

“Well, after watching friends fall in love and get married, being a best man a few times over the years, it made the most sense to me.” I tried to explain. “I guess if I believed love was never meant for me, I couldn’t be disappointed or hurt by it.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Never.” I laughed, bringing my shirt’s collar to smell it. “Do I smell like smoke?”

“Oh good. Oh no, you don’t.” She confirmed. “This date would be over if you smoked.”

“So, it looks like you’re stuck here for a little longer.” I smiled, playfully nudging her with my right shoulder.

“Well, good. I enjoy talking to you.” She smiled, moving her body into mine.

“Me too.”

Her question to me back to when Denise believed I was too good to be true. How she looked for things in me not to like so she could end our relationship. I didn’t mind Lexy doing it in the beginning—smoking was a pet peeve of mine too. Plus, it was a lot of easier to understand being judged for compatibility over a bad habit than what kind of car I drove. I appreciated Lexi’s preference being brought to my attention at the forefront, and not at the backend of a relationship.

Lexi smiled then inched her face closer to mine, tucking her hair over her left ear and exposing her bare neck to me—allowing me to smell her sweet scent. At that instant, I wanted to feel her face against mine, softly kiss her neck then bring my lips to taste hers, but decided against it. If she liked me, and she wanted to pursue a serious dating relationship, then there would be time for that. I knew she had recently broken up with her boyfriend, and was likely vulnerable. It was important to respect her emotions—I didn’t want to take advantage of that. For the next two hours, we talked to each other, side by side. She wanted to hear about Karyn and Denise, stories I’ve never shared with anyone before in their entirety. Not knowing the depth of her pain, I only offered mine so she could put it in perspective and not feel alone. When her eyes swelled after I explained how Denise left me to feel, it seemed opening up to her was the right thing to do. I tucked those stories away for so long, afraid to be judged, but they were clearly something she could relate to. The look in her eyes told me there was no way she wouldn’t want to see me again. Nothing had ever felt more like my last first date.

“Oh, Lexi…I’m sorry. Please don’t feel sad for me.” I told her. “I just had a couple of bad experiences. Everyone goes through heartache sometime in their life. I’m not special.”

“Your stories just hit really close to home.” She spoke, moving her face closer to mine. “I know what it feels like to give someone your heart and for them not to feel the same way. I could never talk to anyone like this.”

“I’m not here to judge you.” I said, touching her face with my hand. “I’m here to get to know you.”

She brought her hand to mine, but before we could show our affection, the barista appeared to tell us they were closing in ten minutes. After being foiled by the café staff, I took notice Crazy Dave and Mitch were both missing in action. That’s when I had the feeling meeting Lexi was meant to be.

“I totally lost track of the time.” She told me. “I should be going.”

“I apologize, I lost track of it too.” I replied. “Would you be interested in hangin’ out again?”

“I’m already looking forward to it!” She smiled, as we stood up from the couch together.

As we exchanged phone numbers while walking to our cars, I felt secure the date couldn’t have gone any better. After walking to her car, a green Honda CR-V, it felt good to know she was a down to earth person—not once asking me what kind of car I drove. As we stood behind her car, she purposely turned into me so we could hug. I contemplated kissing her, but thought I’d be no better than the younger men she dated if I made a move. Unlike them, I truly wasn’t looking for just a good time. I wanted the same thing she did—an LTR. I then opened her car door before she got inside, without any flashbacks, something I haven’t done since I dated Denise. Once she was safely inside, I closed the door and waved goodbye to her. I then guided her as she pulled out from her spot, but noticed she had a broken tail light. Before she put her car in drive, I held my hand out to stop her and she rolled down her window.

“Did you know one of your tail lights is out?”

“I know.” She nodded. “I’ve been needing to get that fixed…I’ve been so busy. I don’t know how to do it.”

“If you don’t have time to do it before I see you next time, I can take care of it for you when we meet again.” I told her. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“That’s really sweet of you.” She said, placing a hand on her heart. “Thank you.”

“It would be my pleasure.” I said, touched by her appreciation for my gesture. “Have a good night, Lexi. Please drive safe.”

“You too. Goodnight, Landyn.”

As a smiling Lexi rolled up her window, I waved farewell again and sauntered back to my car. On the drive home, it felt like I just left an opium den. I then harnessed my excitement by convincing myself I didn’t have a chance with her if I fell in love. If she sensed it, I’d be a dead man. After losing Denise, showing love was now a fatal act of nonconformity in the loveless world we lived in. I could only reveal my feelings if she communicated similar emotions. It was only natural to use the trauma of my relationship with Denise as a point of reference during the date. When Lexi said “I could never talk to anyone like this”, it conjured up memories of Denise when she told me the same thing in an email. The only difference was Denise never complimented me, but Lexi did. To a woman spurned by love, her kind words were a courageous act. During our date, she laughed and even cried. She experienced every emotion known to the human soul in a span of two hours with me—she had to be the real deal.

After our date, Lexi inspired me to think of a million and one ideas for our next. I wasn’t cheap and enjoyed the finer things in life—it should be fun getting to know someone new. My emotions meant more to me than money ever did. Comedy clubs and shows were great, but I wanted to do something memorable, like a helicopter ride over the city after dinner at a nice restaurant. Something different and exciting so she knew I wasn’t a calculator toting accountant. I had to admit, the way her lovely green eyes dampened when I told her my story, softened my stance about not believing in love being meant for me. For my words to have resonated within her that much, a stranger really, just spoke to her sincerity. Lexi deserved to meet the guy who existed before Denise—the one who believed in love. How could I dare punish her for something she wasn’t responsible for? If anyone deserved the guy who believed in love, she did. She had to have felt something for me to be touched that easily—not even Reese Witherspoon could fake that.

For the first time in my life, I had to find a way to love myself. I had to be confident in all aspects of who I was and to know loving myself wasn’t arrogant or showing a lack of humility, but rather a need. If I remained positive, refusing to focus on the negative, she would be drawn to me like sun light upon the earth. I’d look like maggots in a trash can to her if any negativity crept in. Lexi was certainly attractive enough to garner attention from many men, but I had to love myself enough to know I could treat her better than any of them. All signs pointed to this working out. I not only had to run with it but sprint. I offered her more than I’ve had to offer anyone before—the difference this time around. I also couldn’t allow myself to be so fearful of losing that I forgot about winning. By not overanalyzing this, and just taking things as they come, there’s no way this wouldn’t work out. Her interest in me was undeniable—she showed me many signs. She wanted to sit on a couch to be next to me. She nervously played with her hair when we talked, even purposely exposing her bare neck to me after inching her face closer to mine. After revealing it took a while for her to warm up to people, she seemed to feel comfortable with me the entire time—her eyes and body never straying from mine. When she told me “I’m already looking forward to it” after asking if she would like to meet again, how much more did I need to feel great about our first date? How could I find any reason for negativity at all? She felt safe with me, she clearly trusted me. All I had to do was trust myself.

The day after our date, I visited a local Honda dealership to buy a tail light bulb for her car. Knowing how people tend to forget they are driving a piece of machinery that can kill someone, I didn’t want a tailgater hitting her from behind because her light was out. It was foolish to by worried about someone after just one date, but her sincere reaction to my story deemed her already worth my concern. Later that same evening, I also researched a tax issue she asked me about during our date and the prices for a helicopter ride over the city. I didn’t sleep a wink that night preparing for our second date.

Because our first date was so promising, I couldn’t get Lexi off my mind. I wanted to call the following day, but feared it might turn her off. When my self-imposed two-day moratorium on calling her elapsed, I left a brief message to say hello and wondering how she was doing. The very second her number appeared on my phone two days later, I immediately answered. After having a short conversation, I asked when she would be available to meet again. She said her schedule was a little hectic and would have to get back to me. Being super busy as well, I completely understood. Things would work out the way they were meant to when the time was right.

Fearing she may think I’m playing it too cool; I phoned her a few days later, leaving another message for her. This time, she didn’t call me back until a week later. When we talked, she was cordial, but my mind went into protect mode—it seemed odd a girl who looked forward to seeing me would return my call a week later. I knew men and women were different psychologically, but if Lexi called me, she would get a call right back regardless of how busy I was—I didn’t want to jeopardize losing the chance to see her again. Then again, she could’ve easily had things going on she never told me about—I hardly knew her. Maybe they were things she feared may turn me off? Instead of resorting back to my bad experiences with women, I kept my thoughts on forward progress—relying on my new sense of self-worth.

As days passed without hearing from her, I struggled to fight my gut feeling. That generally, people who are interested in someone, wouldn’t jeopardize anything to lose them. Like being bitten in the dark by a spider, something didn’t feel right. After the best first date I ever had, I made a rookie mistake by getting my hopes up. So much so, it left me questioning my sanity. Attempting to preemptively avoid going down the rabbit hole any further, I signed into Myspace. I reasoned, if Lexi was too busy to call me back, she likely also wouldn’t have time to be on Myspace. After noticing she had been on enough times over the past week to change her moods from ‘excited’ to ‘bouncy’ and to ‘hopeful’, I jumped back to my new way of positive thinking—her moods aligned with the days after our first date. It seemed her silence was a test to see how I’d react if she didn’t call me back right away. Maybe her last boyfriend, or the other young guys she dated, got angry with her when she didn’t return their phone calls? If this truly was a test, I didn’t see it as her playing games. If her emotions were involved, she had the right to know what kind of man I was. She even uploaded a song to her profile titled “Satellite” by the group, Guster. Since I didn’t know the group or the song, I decided to take a listen to get an idea of what kind of music she liked. When I heard the lyrics “Are you what I think you are?” followed by “You’re my satellite”, it seemed the song may have spoken about the hope she had for me—why she’s been a bit standoffish. After putting her heart out there and being hurt, the last thing she wanted to show a man were the cards she held. Am I what she thinks I am? As the song suggested? It seemed the longer I was fine with her reluctance in returning my calls promptly, the more it would prove to her I am what she thought I was.

When another phone call went unreturned after two weeks passed, the positive Landyn Lastman, Lexi’s satellite only in his own mind, crashed down to Earth. My negativity, that intuition that told me I was always right about the things I didn’t want to be right about, resurfaced to overwhelm any positive thoughts. To hold onto good feelings for hope’s sake would only postpone my disappointment. To ensure my instincts were not betraying me, I followed her daily on Myspace, even getting up in the middle of the night to do so. Stalking someone you’re actually friends with on a website put an exclamation point on my continued bad luck with relationships. When a new male friend appeared on her friends list, a disc jockey named ConnectTheDotTec, I dreaded his possible role for the late return calls. Since he looked like a matted canine on his profile pic, he seemed more like a friend than a love interest. After noticing she responded to him in a timely manner within a comments window, my theory went to sleep with the fishes. Taking it a step further, I timed her posting of the Guster song at the same time she added him to her friends list, logic suggested who her true satellite really was. It wasn’t until a couple of days later, when she posted lingerie pics of her during a Halloween party at the Playboy Mansion, was I finally convinced Lexi had no plans to meet me for a second date. There was no way I could compete with ConnectTheDotTec apparent disc jockey connections. It appeared I fell in the same trap again, but this time, subordinates at a career job would know of my ineptitude with women.

It was time to face reality—an unreturned phone call or a lack of communication by other means for weeks, even just to say hello, was never a good sign. I was only setting myself up for more late nights on Myspace if I didn’t lay it all on the line. Holding onto Lexi would be like trying to hold onto air without exhaling. There was only one person to blame here for being so hopeful after only one date—me. Without a doubt, she’ll turn this on me—I’m crazy for being optimistic even after suggesting sitting on a couch together and telling me she looked forward to our next date. That she didn’t know what gave me the impression she was interested even after she experienced an entire spectrum of emotions after a first date. She’ll probably accuse me of being too open with her, but I didn’t see the wrong in empathizing with someone’s pain after they shared theirs with you. The truth was the right one would appreciate it, not criticize me for it. It killed me to have to follow-up with her, but this should be routine by now. Regardless of how deeply disappointing this was, being noble was my only option. I wanted to call, but she seemed more responsive to communication on Myspace. As I hammered out another anticlimactic email in my life, it brought me back to the many I wrote Denise that only disappeared into cyberspace. Here I was, the old Landyn Lastman, the great zero, reappearing through the written word once again.

Hi Lexi,

I just wanted to drop you an email. I hope you had a good weekend. Since I haven’t heard from you, I’ve decided it’s probably best to take myself out of the running for the Lexi’s heart sweepstakes. I’m typically an optimistic person and I thought our date went really well, but I have to take your silence at face value. I totally understand.

It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that maybe guys date you for the wrong reasons and usually end up disappointing you. I just feel it’s important for you to know that I was only interested in getting to know you for all the right reasons. I don’t believe in dating for the sake of dating and I’m not a seasoned dater. I believe the best relationships are first built off of friendships and that would’ve been my approach. You’re a pretty girl, Lexi, and I’m sure you have your pick of guys but looks are just part of the equation with me. I care more about the inner beauty in you because that’s what determines if a relationship will last or not. If I could never win your heart then it’s not worth pursuing.

Please know I was only interested in seeing you for the right reasons. If I didn’t think you were a good person on the inside, I would’ve walked away from the date just like you almost did when you thought I smoked. 😊 My life is an open book if you’re ever interested in reading it. I have nothing to hide. Sure, there are things I wish I had done differently but I think everyone does. I’m confident anything Nikki told you about me, I could’ve lived up to and probably even surpassed. But I also know it’s hard to look at a guy who is thirty-seven, single with no kids and think nothing is wrong with him. I’d be skeptical too. All I can do at this point in my life is hope someone is willing to give me a chance so I can prove to them I’m for real. I may not be the best at first impressions, but over the long run, I feel strongly no one would be regretful. You’re probably just into someone else and have other options and I totally respect that. That’s something I would never want you to feel bad about. You’re not rejecting me, you’re only rejecting your perception of me, that’s all. I believe things happen for a reason and more than anything, I’d want you to be happy. That’s number one, I wish you the best, always.

One of the other reasons I emailed you is that I found out through my tax connection at work that you can claim up to $2,500 of student loan interest on your tax return each year. I think the form is easy to fill out. You should definitely take advantage of that.

I think it’s a blessing that you contacted me. I never thought I’d ever get excited again to meet someone, but it’s just good to know I can still feel that way. Anyway, I thought I’d make it easy on you and delete myself from your friends list. If I’m wrong about this, you have my phone number, but unfortunately, it seems I’m always right about the things I never want to be right about. Haha

Take care and good luck,

Landyn

Less than a half hour later, she responded.

Hi Landyn,

I really appreciate your heartfelt email. I read every single word and I thank you for your honesty. One thing that I should’ve warned you about is my extremely slow rate of email and phone call return. It’s a really bad habit I have that I’m constantly working on...my first flaw of many.

My other bad habit is I tend to go into hibernation when I feel overwhelmed. This just happens to be one of those times. I was introduced to you at the tail end of my last semi-relationship which I still don’t have full closure on. When I met you, it threw me into a whirlwind of emotions that confused me even more. And then I started thinking about the age difference and the fact that I’m planning to go back to school and I felt that you wouldn’t want to wait around for that. By the way, when people say girls think way too far ahead, this is a prime example. I could write a book on it.

Anyways, I needed time to think about things before I called you back and here is what I know. I feel it in the pit of my stomach that I’m not ready for this. I’m still sad about the last guy I dated and unfortunately my heart isn’t open to anyone new right now. It really sucks because I did sense that you’re a genuine person who is looking for the same thing in another. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in a while that I felt was truly in it for finding a long lasting loving relationship. That’s what I’m looking for too, but I need to find closure first and also figure out how my going back to school will affect my life. I could possibly be moving to the east coast for 2 years and I don’t want to be in the middle of a relationship if that happens.

I had a really great time with you at the Good Morning Café and I thank you so much for the tax advice. 😊 I would like to keep in touch so I’d like to ask you not to take me off your friends list.

Thanks for reading this long essay of mine.

~Lexi~

Although her email seemed a bit contradictive and her words weren’t something I wanted to read, she gave me dignity by writing me back an ‘essay’. I wanted to remain her friend on Myspace, but I liked her too much—she probably only wanted free tax advice anyway. I already knew how this story ends. After a few days of contemplation, I found the strength to delete her from my friends list, ending the Myspace obsession with her love life. I then took the tail light bulb and tried to make a shot into my trashcan, but I missed—the sound of the bulb smashing into pieces on the kitchen tile resonating in my ears.