It was summer 2012, a regular Wednesday flip night. My girlfriends and I loved flip night, because every week was a different story. A new guy or an old fling, it was the summer. And to us, that's what summer was about.
After my friends had dispersed themselves amongst the crowded bar, I was approached by a familiar face. An older brother of a friend from high school. He sought to tell me that his friend wanted to talk to me. Ironically, I remember his friend being a total heart throb. An upperclassmen who I would have easily given a chance to, back in high school. Although it appeared he was "too shy" to talk to me himself. So I thought, "Well then, he isn't man enough for me."
I avoided the two for the rest of the night, until this guy found the courage to introduce himself. I truly wasn't that interested. For the most part, I knew what his intentions were, and it wasn't to have an intellectual conversation.
I entertained conversing with him for the rest of the night until my friends were ready to leave. He wanted my number, and truthfully, I took pity on the guy, at least he wasn't a creep.
The next few days were followed by small talk, and eventually he asked to take me out. I really didn't wan't to hang with this guy. He probably just wanted to get with me and I was more than sure that by the time we had finally gotten together, he would have no motive to carry on a conversation without alcohol. But if any of you know what Syracuse is like in the summer, you can imagine that there wasn't much else for me to do at that point.
So, he gave me 4 options. He said, we could go to the movies, go out to dinner, hang at his place, or go to his secret spot. Secret spot, I was intrigued.
He picked me up and drove me through a neighborhood of upscale homes with no street lights. We approached a dead end and he turned the car off. I thought to myself, "Oh. Hell. No."
He got out of the car and opened up his trunk to pull out a sleeping bag. I flashed back into self-defense mode, putting my keys between my fingers in case I had to stab him and run for my life.
He said we had to walk a little to get to the "secret spot." I was already afraid of the dark. All I could see was a patch of woods. He asked if I wanted to hold his hand to get through the woods. So I kept my keys in one palm, and gave him my other.
Five minutes later, the woods came to a clear, and we walked into a moon-lit field. A fresh cut golf course with a view of the hills. He laid down the sleeping bag on the grass, and I realized I didn't have to kill him.
Over green, we watched the stars and talked all night. We discussed our passions, our families, our failures. He told me about his relationships, and I told him about mine. I admitted to him that I never expected him to be the gentleman that he was. He then looked me in the eyes completely baffled and said, "Who exactly are these guys that you hang with, that treat you any differently?"
Realizing his disgust, I was immediately mortified. I became hot and cold very quickly. I had never felt so embarrassed. This feeling hit me like a wave. A force through my entire body, fully realizing that I truly deserved so much better. It took this moment for me to realize that I had become so accustomed to being ignored and treated poorly, that I unconsciously assumed I deserved less, because I hadn't first hand experienced any better. He gave me a glimpse of how good love was going to be for me, and that I never forgot.
A few hours later, he took me home. As the bud of our friendship bloomed, I knew that our time was only temporary. He lived in Rochester, and I lived in Syracuse. I could feel that his responsibilities were bigger than a summer fling. After a few more days of small talk, I didn't contact him anymore and neither did he.