I wish I could say that I learned my lesson from the past three years of back and forth with Tristan. I would like to think that the very hard life lesson like the one I just learned (that the man I love is not able to handle a real relationship because he’s still loyal to his deceased wife) would make me smart enough to not go down the widower road again, but when it comes to romance, I’ve never exactly been wise.
I tell myself that I know better than to date a guy who just lost his wife, but I have always kind of had a thing for Marco. I met him about 5 years ago and was instantly attracted to him. His thick, black wavy hair and eyes as dark as coal caught my attention right off the bat, and when he flashed me that perfect smile – his eyes crinkling up at the corners, I found myself scanning his hand for a wedding ring. My heart sank a bit when my eyes landed on a gold band securely fastened to his finger, even though I was not at all surprised.
We have only known each other as casual acquaintances ever since that moment, but I’ve always been intrigued by him. Instant attraction has never been something I have been good at ignoring, and now he’s not ignoring me.
His wife died earlier this year, after her long battle with cancer. It was a very sad story, and the community grieved with him, including me. And up until last week, I had not seen him for several months.
I was sitting at the bar with some friends enjoying a Margarita when he walked up to me and said hello. I gave him a hug and we chatted for a few minutes before he was approached by some women who knew him and whisked him off. He came back about thirty minutes later and began telling me that had started trying to date, but it was difficult to find someone he could relate to. I listened as he was talking about younger women liking him because he paid for everything and showed them a good time out on the town, but all he felt he got from most younger women was sex and as he so wisely put it, ‘sex is only a very small part of a relationship.’ As I sat nodding and murmuring my understanding, I was thinking, where is this going, is he seriously ready to be dating? I couldn’t help but be skeptical, but I figured it was none of my business, and certainly not my problem.
I was getting a vibe that he was interested in me, but couldn’t be sure. I have to give him credit, he didn’t ask me out right then and there, he just chatted with me happily, and when I left, I gave him a warm hug goodbye, saying it was good to see him again.
That was several days ago, and I went on about my boring life, just trying to survive the recent Tristan break-up by immersing myself in work.
But today when I walked into a restaurant for my lunch meeting and saw Marco sitting at the bar sipping his French press coffee, my heart skipped a beat. As I walked to my table, I took note of what he was wearing, as most women do. He had on a stylish pair of gray slacks, fitted to his nice ass, while a light blue button-down hugged his sculpted chest. I waved to him as I joined my lunch date at another table.
After my meeting finished, Marco came over and asked if he could join me and buy me a coffee. We sat and talked for a bit, when he surprised me by saying: Would you let me take you out to dinner sometime? Caught totally off-guard, I said, “Sure,” not thinking it would go any further. He smiled happily and nodded with satisfaction at my response, then he said, “so can I get your number?” Oh, right. I guess I should have seen that one coming, I thought to myself. I rattled my number off and sat back in my chair, satisfied the conversation could now move in another direction.
Completely undeterred, he grinned at me. “Don’t you want my number?” He asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
Wow. This guy either has some serious game, or he wants a date with me pretty badly. “Oh.” I said. “I just assumed I would get it when you called me.” He took that moment to call my phone and then watched like a hawk while I saved him in my address book.
We talked for a bit longer, and then he had a meeting to get to, so he rose to give me a hug. It was a bit longer than the last one, and this time his hand lingered on my back for a few seconds more, which was kind of sexy. When he left, I found myself watching him walk away, and thinking, I’ve always been attracted to him, and now I have a chance to date him….so why am I so sad? I guess it’s because I cannot help but to look at him and fast forward to all the drama that a relationship with him at this point would likely incur.
I know that just like anyone else, no two widowers are the same, and people don’t grieve in the same way and in the same time frames, but I don’t think I want to go down that rabbit hole again, not when I just scratched my way out of one.
But he’s SO good looking…and successful…and smart….and….oh yeah…MARRIED.