CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - A FIRST DATE

Dearest Nurse, I went on my very first date in nearly twelve years.

“[Plays Scrabble?]” I said, approaching a man I had never met before, but whom I was fairly certain had to be my date for that morning’s hike. After all, there was no one else in the Bronson Canyon parking lot at 7:50 that morning.

“Yeah.” He said, looking up at me from the back of his Ford SUV. I suddenly remembered Romeo’s complete and utter lack of vehicular transportation, and inwardly chuckled. I had spoken one word to this guy, and already, prospects were looking up. And what was more, he looked like his picture. Perhaps a little extra around the midsection, but it’s COVID. Not everyone was lucky enough to discover the divorce diet, like I was.

I was still feeling a bit off kilter from the night before with the Prince… or was I hungover? Either way, I was glad to see more or less what I expected standing in front of me, and very pleased at the fact that he hadn’t fabricated the 6’2” he had listed in his dating profile.

“How long is this hike?” He asked.

As you might remember, Plays Scrabble was the guy I ridiculously messaged six times in a row on Positive Singles, and was fairly certain I would never get a response from. Well, he did respond. The next day as a matter of fact. And after some small talk on the site, he shot over his phone number and invited me to text him. By that point, there were a few people on Positive Singles I had been messaging, but there was something about Plays Scrabble. His profile was honest and direct, as was his style of discourse. I had never been on a dating site before, and certainly never met up with someone I had met on one. I wanted to feel safe, and though I was fully aware that I didn’t actually know Plays Scrabble from Wears Shoes, something about him made me feel like I didn’t have to worry. And now, looking at him in the flesh, not only did I still feel safe, after what I had been through the day before, I felt stabilized.

“An hour and a half to two hours.” I shot back.

“Then, bring water?”

I drew down the corners of my mouth. I had already warned him about this hike. It’s my all-time favorite, but it isn’t easy, and these days, it might not even be legal. In past years I had seen the occasional coyote or rattlesnake, and now there were “NO ROCK CLIMBING” signs posted all over the trail’s entryway. I realized in that moment, however, there was one thing I hadn’t run by him...

“I wouldn’t, actually.” I said, “Because you might need to use your hands…” I waited for a look of shock, maybe even regret, but what I got was…

“Hat?”

I laughed.

“Sure. There’s some cloud cover, but you’re kinda pale.” Next to me, anyway.

I had the advantage on the hike and I knew it. Not only was this particular trail familiar to me, but over the past year and a half I had gotten myself in great shape. Now that I had dropped all my excess weight and was finally eating normally again, regardless of my potential hangover, I could handle just about anything. I chatted jovially, climbing with ease, as Plays Scrabble scrambled behind me.

“Glad you left the water, huh?” I said, turning back to see him. He was two hands deep in the loose dirt on a steep incline, trying his damndest not to slide back down the mountain.

“Ha… yeah…”

My choice of a first date had been by design. I’m an early riser. You know that. If I’m going to date someone, even casually, mornings have to be in play. Secondly, what I have found during this process, is that I absolutely love walking. Walking and hiking have been two of the most therapeutic activities of this journey for me. Clearing my head. Feeling the ground beneath my feet. Listening to music, or talking with a friend. There’s nothing like a good walk. And lastly, dinner and a movie is boring. I was very pleased when Plays Scrabble agreed to an 8AM hike, but I worried now he might be regretting that decision.

“Sorry…” I said, as he righted himself and dusted off his hands.

“No.” He chirped, looking up at me. “I like it.”

I gave a sideways smile. Okay, then, Juliet. Carry on.

We talked the entire hike, and I couldn’t help but be struck by how easy it was, or how many things we had in common. Playing Scrabble aside, Plays Scrabble had been a writer like myself before becoming a high school teacher. I liked the fact that he saw himself going back to writing at some point, but what I liked more, was how he talked about his job.

Plays Scrabble doesn’t just teach, he teaches in a public high school in East L.A.. He’s in it. And not only does he teach during the school year, he also teaches summer school, and recently accepted an invitation to take over as their soccer coach. That’s dedication. The school itself is divided into separate units, each focusing on different areas of academia, from the humanities, performing arts, sciences etc…

“And I think the one I teach in is the best.” He said, and I was instantly charmed.

I’ve known a lot of teachers in my life. My father was a teacher for almost forty years. His friends were teachers. My godmother is a teacher. Not to mention all the teachers I’ve met through high school, college, graduate school, and now Big’s elementary school as well. I love teachers. They have the most important job in the whole wide world, and they all deserve massive props, hugs, and adulation. But never have I ever heard a teacher talk about their job without complaining. Not a single one. Until Plays Scrabble, that is.

And he was funny. Extremely dry. Not even smiling at his own jokes. It threw me at first, but then I started to really dig it. And nothing seemed to give him pause. Not the fact that I had just gotten out of a ten year marriage six weeks ago. Not my two kids. And certainly not my delightful skin condition.

“Well, it’s not an issue for us.” He said.

“I know.” And how wonderful is that? What a fucking gift. I never thought I’d say this about a dating app, but in that moment of complete and utter ease, talking about our common virus and how we had contracted it, I was so fucking grateful. And kind of amazed. Granted, he’s a bit older than me, and has had it longer, but he was so comfortable with himself. So settled with this aspect of his life. I was in awe.

“I was stoned out of my mind at a concert when I first realized what was going on.” He said. “I was tripping out.” I could only imagine.

And I told my story, about having my drivers license taken away because of a DUI, and having to bike ten miles a day in 100 degree heat with a full on outbreak… and you know what happened? We laughed. We laughed about it. And I can not tell you, dear Nurse, what it meant to be able to do that. God, it’s stupid, but I have tears in my eyes right now thinking about it. Whether it’s Plays Scrabble, someone else from Positive Singles, or even someone who doesn’t have the virus at all, I don’t ever want to give that up. That feeling of being completely and utterly unashamed. Of being human, normal, and good, in spite of whatever I had picked up on this wild journey called life.

“You hungry?” I said, once we had arrived back at our cars.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Nice.

We sat outside at Solar de Cahuenga, where I discovered his love of spicy food. I was already pretty game on when it came to Plays Scrabble at that point, but this sent me over the edge.

“I have a hot sauce cabinet.” He said, and my eyes went wide.

“Really!?”

I love spicy food. Love it like no one’s business. I put hot sauce on everything. Even salads. Paris hated spicy food, or anything with more flavor than a dry McDonalds hamburger. It drove me crazy.

“Well, I might have overplayed that a bit.” Plays Scrabble said, seeing my excitement. “It’s a cabinet that has some hot sauces in it.” Again, he didn’t even crack a smile at his own joke. I fucking loved it.

He was funny, he loved his job, he was tall, he was nice, normal, a passionate liberal, non-religious, and from the East coast. He plays scrabble. Like really plays scrabble, and I checked.

“How’s your two letter word game?” I had asked at the start of the hike.

“I’m not above the za.” He quickly fired back. (For those who don’t know, za is the only two letter word for the ten-point letter Z. That said, despite the high number of points, Z is not even close to the hardest letter to play.)

“Meh. There’s a q one now.” I said, testing him. (Again, for those who don’t know, Scrabble is constantly updating its dictionary with new words. Nerdy scrabble players like myself get super excited when new two-letter words are introduced, particularly where high-point letters are concerned.)

“Yep. Qi.” He said without taking a breath.

Motherfucker, I thought. Most who say they play scrabble don’t really know how the game is played. I love beating this crap out of these people. Plays Scrabble, however, wasn’t one of them. He would be… how they say… a challenge. And Miss Juliet loves a challenge. Plus, he didn’t seem intimidated by me either. Not yet, anyway. But there were still a few more boxes I needed to check before I could consent to a second date.

“We’ve been shooting the shit for a few hours now.” I said as I finished the last bite of my crepe. “So, tell me. What are you looking for?”

“This probably sounds really basic,” he shrugged, “but I’m just looking for a cool girlfriend to hang out with.”

“Yeah. That is basic.” I smiled. But I was glad. Better his needs be simple and vague, because mine are pretty specific.

“What about you?” He asked.

“Well, first off, I’ve come to the realization that I don’t think I’m built for monogamy.” I tossed onto the table with a clunk. “I’ve tried it in the past, and it hasn’t worked out, so I don’t think I ever want to be exclusive again.”

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Okay. That’s cool.”

Alright, Juliet. So far so good.

“I don’t want to get married again and I don’t want any more kids.”

“Good for me.” And he meant it. We had already discussed how just fine he was with never having kids, if that’s the hand life dealt him.

I had listed a bunch of things I didn’t want. Now it was time to get into what I did.

“But I just spent the past decade having very mediocre sex, if I was having sex at all.”

“Oh…” He grimaced, “Yeah, I’ve ended relationships over that.”

“Well, I didn’t.” I continued, “So now I’m really just looking to have great, mind-blowing sex. Like, a lot of it. Does that sound like something that could work for you?”

Now the other eyebrow shot up. In spite of his surprise at my candidness, it was at this precise moment that I noticed what a pretty shade of hazel-green his eyes were.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, that works.” Again, without cracking a smile. This was too much fun. But I wasn’t just relaying this information for my own entertainment. As you know, dear Nurse, I have been on a physical mission these past three weeks, as well as an emotional one. I had been making strides on my own with my beloved Rabbit, but if I was going to have sex with Plays Scrabble, I wanted him to know what I was up against. So, in the spirit of openness, and maybe a little TMI, I told him about my tilted uterus, and my history of believing good sex wasn’t for me.

“Oh…” He said, the eyebrows coming in for a landing of genuine sympathy.

My thought behind bringing this up was that he’d do his research before the second date we planned for Tuesday evening, and based on his reaction, I think he just might. And I hope he does. Sincerely. Because, unbeknownst to Plays Scrabble, there’s a lot more riding on this Tuesday than a mere game of scrabble.

Romeo, I’ll say for the hundredth time, was the best lay of my life. The unforgettable fuck. The one I fantasized about during my marriage, and the one I became convinced in recent weeks, could work my body better than anyone. But after what unfolded the other day, I’ll just say it, dear Nurse, I’ve been royally turned off.

I really have no idea what’s going on with Romeo right now. What his situation is, what he’s been doing this whole time, and what he’s going to want coming out of this. But what I do know is that things are still messy, he appears to regret having been with me, and he is quickly becoming something I have learned to avoid in my adult life: drama.

More than ever, I need to know that someone else can fuck the shit out of me. Sounds crass, I know, but that’s the damn truth. I need to know a world where Romeo isn’t the best. Or even if he can’t be topped right away, that there’s hope. Really good, solid, fantasy-worthy hope. And I’ll tell you something right now. If that comes in the form of a nice, cool dude who loves his job, spicy food, makes me laugh, has a car, shares my liberal views, and gives good scrabble, I will feel much more comfortable about any decision I make come the 24th.

Because the most important revelation that came out of my date with Plays Scrabble, and my wildly unexpected three hours with the Prince the night before, was that I didn’t spend a single second preparing myself for rejection. While parts might have been confusing, neither interaction felt negative or stressful. I didn’t get any angry, Jerry Springer messages from jealous girlfriends, and most astounding of all, I didn’t think about Romeo for a single, freakin' second.

When I got home from breakfast with Plays Scrabble, I remembered something I had forgotten to list in the what-I’m-looking-for category.

Almost forgot. Massages. Definitely looking for someone who knows how to rub out a knot. That’s high on the list.

He texted back within minutes.

I can rub out knots.

Sweet. Well, that was my last checkbox. Looking forward to having sex with you!

Woohoo! He texted back, complete with a firework display. I mean, how fucking cute is that?

So, at this point, I’ve broken just about every rule I set for myself during this project. I drank wine, I contacted Romeo, I flirted, and I fully intend on having sex with Plays Scrabble before the time is out. I even had to switch to black tea because I realized green was triggering my vestibulitis. But there’s one rule I haven’t broken. I have still, without fail, written to you, Dearest Nurse, every. single. day. And because of that, and because of you, I fully believe the work is still getting done.

“You know what I’m excited about for you?” Mercutio said to me during our hike this morning. “I’m excited for you to re-read the whole project from beginning to end. Because there’s been a real shift, you know? An energy shift.”

And she’s right. Despite the momentary, emotional upheaval contacting Romeo caused, and feeling like I was walking on the ceiling after drinks with the Prince, after meeting Plays Scrabble, I feel… more grounded somehow. Happier, even. And just a little closer to fine. It’s hard to explain, but that, dear Nurse, is a job for tomorrow.

Sincerely yours,

Juliet