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General Hospital

January 9, 2012

Nothing sexier than Uggs with hospital garb

I was sick. Really sick. I had a virus. The flu. Whatever it was, I was ill. So ill in fact, I needed to go into the hospital to get rehydrated. (Yes, I mentioned this in my previous entry, but I figured I could continue writing about it. Hope you don’t mind.)

I was lying in a bed in the ER, an IV of fluid dangling from my arm, my hair tied into one gigantic rats nest and I may have been any number of shades of green. My mother stood by my side nervously.

The Doctor on call spoke to me for a bit about my symptoms and ordered a few tests. When he walked away my mother asked me,
“Why didn’t you ask him if he knew anyone?”
“What?” I said, barely able to respond.
“Like any single friends for you?”
“I did.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“That’s because of course I didn’t. I am lying here looking the worst I have looked in I don’t know long. He was asking me how many times I vomited over the past 24 hours and I had to describe what it looked like. Should I have thrown in I also like Pearl Jam, long walks on the beach, and candle-lit dinners?”
She laughed. “Well, you never know.”
“Do you think there was any shot he was going to run home to his friends and say I saw the hottest chick today. She was listless. She almost threw up on me. I don’t know that she has showered for days. Don’t miss out on this incredible opportunity.”
Beat.
“Come on Mom. Really?”
She laughed. We both did. Hysterically. But out of the corner of my eye I saw her trolling the emergency room for other single doctors.

When I got home that night she stayed in my apartment to help me out. I was awoken at 6 am to a very faint sound. It sounded like paper. Being ripped. Slowly. Wait. That sound was…familiar. But no, it couldn’t be. But it had to be.
“Mom? Are you opening my mail?” I called from my bed.
“I am organizing it.” She called back from the living room.
Crickets.

Mom, I know you are reading this. Thanks for everything! Thanks for helping me out and being the best mother ever. And of course, giving me the best material!

More on my mom? She is one of everyone’s favorite characters! See: Real Texts From My Mom, As Long As You’re Happy, My Mom The Stalker, Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match…That is Alive, My Mother, My Pimp, Sugar and Spice and All Things Technological, Moving and Shaking, Driving with My Mom.

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Having What It Takes

January 2, 2012

The Truth

One of the reasons I married my ex-husband is because I saw how he took care of his mother when she was sick. He not only quit his first major job out of college to move to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota with her for three months to take care of her (he was an only child, and she was a single mom) , but he visited her every single day in the hospital for nearly a year until the day she died. That’s when I decided he was a good man and had what it took to be a good husband. It was exactly what I would have done for one of my parents had they fallen ill. And it’s exactly what I did for my father 11 years later when he was diagnosed suddenly with stage 4 Pancreatic cancer. When I sat with my father for the 6 months of his courageous battle I realized it’s not what you had, but it’s who you had by your side.

I had been broken up with Colby (See: Yankees Vs. Red Sox)  for nearly two years when my father died. But he was by my side every step of the way. I knew that Colby loved me. Real, real, deep love. The kind that Nicholas Sparks books are made of. Colby rode in the car with me to my father’s grave after his funeral. He didn’t say a word but I knew he was there for me and I felt totally comfortable falling apart, as I knew he would be there to catch me. When the service was finished, there is a Jewish tradition, where each person has the opportunity to shovel dirt onto the grave. Helping fill the grave means you have left nothing undone and it is the ultimate final respect for the deceased. After everyone had their turn I looked over at the men who worked in the cemetery who would have the job of filling the grave when we left.
Then I looked at Colby.
“I want you to do it.” I said, through my tears.
“Do what?”
“Fill the grave. I don’t want strangers to do it.”
I knew Colby could handle it. All 6’4″ of him. Colby said nothing. He was standing there in 98 degree weather at the end of June in a dark suit and began to cover my fathers coffin. I looked on believing that Colby was a superhero. He could do anything. And would for me. I felt much better knowing that my dad would be covered with care.

Over Christmas I was sick. I had a virus to end all viruses. I had to go to the ER to get re-hydrated and I spent days in bed vomiting. And guess who showed up to help me? Leo. (See: Deal Breakers & Songs About Darcy ) Not surprising. We had always remained friends and as far as I am concerned, he was always the ultimate mensch (if you aren’t familiar with Yiddish it means “a person of integrity and honor” thank you Wikipedia). When he checked in for the holidays and heard I was sick he insisted he come right over and take care of me. I didn’t even have to ask.  I hadn’t dated Leo in 10 months, yet I could still count on him. He knew I was alone. Bear was on vacation with his dad, my mom had put in overtime and needed some sleep before she was to leave for her own trip, and I…was alone. Really sick, and alone. I couldn’t even get up to walk to the kitchen. By the fifth day, I had a fever. A high one. And I was scared. Leo wanted to help and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He came with flowers, two kinds of soup, and a ton of Gatorade. He sat with me and for the first time in two days I was able to eat. He even assembled a Chanukah present I got Bear and he walked my dog in the freezing cold. When he came back, seeing that I had eaten he asked if I wanted anything else.
“A brownie maybe?” I think it’s the first time in days I had asked for food.
Guess what he did? He went back out into the cold and got me a brownie. He even sat though two hours, two different states of the real housewives, a show he can barely stand. He left when I was falling asleep. My fever was breaking and I was ready for bed. Like a gentleman, he left and checked on me periodically through the evening and late into the next week, stopping by a few days later to bring me even more food, making sure I was getting enough.
“I can’t believe you would do all of this for me.”
“Of course I would. I care so much about you. I would never want you to be so sick alone.”

Last year in my New Years Entry (See: Auld Lang Syne) I asked the question: Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? I had an answer then, and I have the same answer today. No, old acquaintances should not be forgot. Without old acquaintances, without the lessons people have taught you along the way, you would not be who you are today. I have had men set the bar incredibly low, but today, I am measuring the standard to those who have set it incredibly high. Because that is what we all deserve.

I do not know what this New Year brings but this is what I do know: Surround yourself with people who have your back. With people like that in your life, you can do anything, because you know they are right behind you to catch you if you fall. And there may be times you fall. But feeling safe to take the risk is half the battle.

I don’t know who I will date in 2012, but I do know this: They better be by my bedside if I get sick or by my side if I need them there. I want someone I can rely on. Someone to take care of me when I need the help. And someone I can count on. The same way they would be able to count on me. I don’t want a guy. I want a man. Someone who will fight to the death in the gauntlet for me if the need should arise, just as I would for them.

When the going get tough, the weak get going. But the strong…they stay by your side.

Wishing you all love, light and all the best in 2012.

Darcy

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Breaking Bad

December 27, 2011

image via: gizmodo

Guys, I am not quite sure how to say this…so I am just going to come right out and say it.

(Insert sound of throat clearing here)

“My penis would break you in half” is not an okay pickup line. It’s just not.

We clear?

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The Most Dramatic Rose Ceremony Yet

December 21, 2011

Most Dramatic Rose Ceremony Yet image via: The Bachelorette

It’s holiday time in New York City. Holiday time means holiday parties, and lots of them. After an impromptu change of Thursday night plans, I headed out with a few friends to  an old friends party. One of the friends I was with, I had dubbed my lucky charm. You see, he is one of my best wing men and I always have the best dating luck when he is with me. So I put on my highest heels, my skinniest black pants and my finest sequins and headed out for the holiday festivities with my crew.

After spending two hours at the first party, we ventured to our next location which is currently one of the hottest spots in New York City nightlife. We got a table and piled onto the banquette, when suddenly, I lock eyes with one of the most handsome men I have seen live.

Now here is the thing: He wasn’t my kind of handsome. He was Tom Brady handsome, which is obviously very handsome, but a little too pretty. For me. I like guys that look like they have been through it a bit. A scar or two, possibly a crooked nose, you know, signs of life. I’m not really the pretty boy type, but he was cute with a smile that could light up the entire room. He planted himself in front of me and we continued to make serious eye contact for a good 40 minutes, constantly checking back.
“Do you know this guy?” I said to my lucky charm. “Is he your friend? The one with the brother? You know…that guy you once introduced me to?”
“Who? Ian? No. But he is staring at you Darce.”
“I thought so.”

I continue to lock eyes with the handsome stranger and then turn my attention to my friends. After a quick walk around the room and a location change I spot said handsome stranger and notice he is wearing the same shoes my ex-husband always wears. They are from LL Bean. Those Boat shoes. The ones that people stopped wearing in 7th grade. People who aren’t my ex-husband. Or this guy.
He inches closer to me in the crowd. He is finally close enough to talk. He stands with his chest close to mine. He is about 6’1″ and general heaven.

“You know, those shoes come with a special policy. You can send them back to LL Bean when they are worn out and they will send you a brand new pair. Forever.” I said, as I smiled my most Darcy smile and gazed directly into his eyes.
“Are you making fun of my shoes?”
“No. I like them.”
“Good. I like you. Who are you? You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Me?” smiling coyly. Is this for real?
“Can I steal you away? Let’s sit down.” He says, shuffling me to a sofa.

We are now sitting alone on a sofa in a dark corner. I ask him how old he was as he definitely looked younger than me.
“31.”
“Ah. I am too old for you. I’m 36.”
“That’s not too old. And you are beautiful. Who cares.”
When is it too early to tell someone you love them? Can I tell him now? Now? What about now? Maybe now? How about now?
I was looking at his flawless face, his perfect teeth, his piercing blue eyes. I thought he was way too handsome to be picking me up out of the crowd. It was a pretty hot crowd that night, and I’ve got to admit, the competition was stiff.
“Where are you from?” I asked, trying to figure out this handsome boys story.
“Grew up in the city until 8th grade, then moved to Connecticut.”
Explains the shoes.
“I like a Connecticut boy. What do you do?”
“Finance.”
He was sweet. He looked like he stepped right out of an episode of Friday Night Lights as the hot new ball player. And for this moment, he was mine.
Within in a few minutes of chatting he grabs my face and tries to go in for a major kiss. With tongue. A real real kiss.
“Whoa. Sorry, I wasn’t ready for that.” I said, pulling back my face and making it my own again.
That was awkward. My friends were watching from across the room. Their mouths agape.

Suddenly, my friend approaches.
“Aren’t you that guy? That guy from TV?”
“Yes.” He says, with an embarrassed smirk.
“Really? What show are you on???” I asked. I definitely didn’t see that one coming.
“I was on the Bachelor, and the Bachelor Pad.”

Crickets.

Now, if you are a Darcy reader you KNOW how much I love reality TV, and those are shows I watch. But I have missed a few seasons lately. Damn you Darcy. Why did you have to take up writing and spend less time focusing on your DVR. UGH. Such a overacheiver. But at least kissing me in the first few minutes made sense. He was used to having to vie for one womans attention against 20 some odd other bachelors, all in a 45 minute time frame. He thought he was working under the wire. Makes sense now.
“Yeah. You are Bachelor X(real name omitted).” She says accusingly.
“Yep.”
Okay, now please. Please walk away cock block. I chant silently in my head. But she doesn’t. She goes in for more.
“I met you. At a party.”
Oh boy.
“You dated my friend.”
Not good.
She stared him down with intense crazy eyes.
Please make this stop.
“I’ll leave you two alone now.”
“Thanks.” I said. I may have murmured it from under the sofa I was now hiding beneath.

“This is really awkward with all your friends staring at us,” Bachelor boy said. I look over to see my friends, also known as my cock block crew, staring at us like we were on stage. My lucky charm was dancing in my fur vest in our direction, my other friend giving him the look of death, and the other two just staring in awe like they were witnessing an orgy with animals and carneys.
I tried to wave them away without him noticing.
“Come with me, let’s go somewhere else.” He said.
“I can’t right now.”
“But they really aren’t leaving us alone. It’s kind of weird.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Then come with me.”
“I…just can’t.” The truth is, I didn’t really want to. I wasn’t in the right mind-set to follow a cute boy gd knows where. Not tonight.
“Well, I can’t do this with all of them right there.”
I didn’t blame him. I said goodbye to my Bachelor. No rose for me at this ceremony. I could almost hear Chris Harrison in my head “Say your goodbyes now Darcy.” It’s okay though. I didn’t want to be that girl, dating that guy from TV.
Given that I have never had an actual rose ceremony, this certainly was my most dramatic rose ceremony yet. We will always have that.

But it is nice to know, this mama has still got it. Oh, and note to self, next time, I will leave the cock block crew at home. (Sorry guys)

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Kick Off Your Sunday Shoes

December 12, 2011

tumbleweeds image via: Drunk Jays Fans

Have you ever thought someone was so boring, they were like a one man Footloose town?

Me too.

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Giving Thanks

November 21, 2011

Giving Thanks Image via: Living-Intentionally

Ah, Thanksgiving. Sure, it’s a time to eat yourself into a coma, but above all else, it is a time to reflect on what you are thankful for. What better way to reflect, then write an entire entry dedicated to the topic.

To begin, I am most thankful for Bear. He is the epicenter of happiness in my life. Being a mother, and especially being his mother is an unbelievable gift that I am thankful for every day.
I am also incredibly thankful for my family, my friends, and the health of myself and others.

It should also be said, that I am incredibly thankful for the troops who put themselves on the line fighting for our freedom everyday.

But what I really wanted to address in today’s entry, are the shallow everyday things I am thankful for. Things that improve my life just a tiny bit. Simple pleasures, if you will, that deserve a shout out on this important holiday. These are the top 10 things I am thankful for this year. In no particular order.

1) I am thankful for my DVR. Oh, how you complete me. I am able to record two things at the very same time. Nary one trashy reality show will go missed, as my DVR has it covered. I can record the housewives of not one, but two different states at the very same time. It also enables me to fast forward through commercials and the boring stuff like scenes where everyone is getting along and no one is being petty. So even though I think Time Warner can suck it, I thank them for the DVR they supply.

2) I am thankful for my internet. And for that, obviously, I thank Al Gore. I also ask that Al Gore never decides to take down the internet. That, by the way, could have gotten him elected as president. If he had simply said, “vote for me or I will take down the internet,” I would have voted for him. I would vote for the homeless man on my corner who sleeps in a purple thong if it meant not losing my internet connection.

3) I am thankful for the times I fall off a platform shoe and no one is there to notice.

4) I am thankful that they now take credit cards in taxis. I never have cash. Ever. And if I do, I don’t know where it is, as I can’t keep my wallet straight (so much so, that everyday is like a mini lottery as I never know what cash I will find in the pockets of each coat I wear.) With a simple swipe of the card, I can get anywhere I need to go, and because it is credit, I am not even conscious of the fact that I spent $35 to go 15 blocks.

5) I am thankful for Google being able to read my mind. I barely have to finish the word I am typing before Google figures out what I am looking for. Google, thank you for getting inside my brain and knowing what I want before I do. Maybe you can help me with other things, like letting me know what I really want out of life. Are you there Google? It’s me, Darcy.

6)  I am thankful my bikini waxer (See: Wishful Waxing)  has the ability to be 2 inches from my vagina while carrying on a conversation about the weather. Kind of like my gyno. (See: Anatomically Correct, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, More on my Vagina). In fact, I should ask my gyno if he can give me a bikini wax. You know, kill two birds with one stone. Hmmm. Would insurance then cover that? Nah. They never cover anything.

7) I am thankful when strangers don’t talk to me on a crowded elevator. I am sure you are lovely, but I don’t want to talk to you. Particularly if I am late. Unless I sneeze, and you don’t say gd bless you, in which case I am not thankful for you not speaking to me. In fact, I dislike you a great deal and silently curse you as the floors pass us by.

8 ) I am thankful for Sephora. When I have time to kill, I wander into the nearest Sephora and play in there like a little girl does her moms makeup bag. When I start looking line a tranny and smelling like a cheap prostitute, it’s only then I know it’s time to leave. But thank you Sephora for giving me a much-needed time sink between appointments.

9) I am thankful for anything that comes with a side order of fries. Who wouldn’t be? Oh yes, and that little creepy coleslaw. I am thankful for that too. I would like some coleslaw now that I mentioned it.

10) I am thankful for people who wear clothes or a towel when they blow-dry their hair at the gym. To the people who blow dry their hair naked in the locker room: Is clothing too cumbersome? I am not thankful for those people.

Happy Thanksgiving all! Now tell me, what are you thankful for?

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You’ve Got Questions? I’ve Got Answers.

November 11, 2011

Free Advice via: chocolateorchid

I often get e-mails and tweets from readers with questions. So much so, that I have decided to make an entire section on Darcy Dates dedicated to answering your questions. So ask away! Your question just may be featured on Darcy Dates! You may post on the Darcy Dates Facebook page , you may tweet me @darcydates or you may e-mail me at darcydates@gmail.com and I promise to answer!

Enjoy your weekend!

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Sometimes…I Stalk Too.

October 31, 2011

What would LLoyd Dobler do? Via: Say Anything

After being married for 7 1/2 years, and living with my husband 2 years before that…I had gotten used to a man around the house. A man to screw things, nail things, you know…good with his hands. No, no. Not that. I mean actually screw and nail. With tools. Manly tasks, involving dangerous things like drills, hammers and the like. Okay, well maybe my Jewish husband wasn’t that great at those things. There was that one time he assured me he could run the cable into the next room by drilling through the wall, only to drill through the actual cable itself, leaving us cable-less over a long holiday weekend. Needless to say, after that, I hid the drill. In the garbage.

When I began living on my own with Bear, I realized I needed a man around the house to do things like hang heavy mirrors, change lights in fixtures I couldn’t reach, mount tv’s on the wall and cook for me. Well, that last part is just a bonus. I guess that’s what SeamlessWeb is for, no? That is when he came into my life. Fernando. He was the head handy man in my building who I would pay a little extra on the side to do such odd jobs. I got used to having Fernando around the house. Well, at least in my building. I would shop with ease buying furniture that needed to be assembled, extra-large pictures that needed to be hung…really, whatever my heart desired because I had Fernando to do it for me. Until… he found another job being the super at a building a couple of blocks away.

When I received this news from my doorman one day I didn’t take it well. It was as though my husband was being deployed.
“Nooooooooooooo!” I envisioned myself screaming, clinging to Fernando’s leg as he walked off into the sunset, or at least into the subway with his tool kit.
“Why are you leaving?” I asked, after I took the elevator to the basement and found him (or stalked him) in the boiler room.
“It’s a better job.”
“But you’ve been here for years!”
“Exactly. Now I am going to be the super. It’s a lot more money Darcy.”
“I understand.” I said. I may have even copped an attitude. Which I realize wasn’t fair. It’s not that I didn’t want Fernando to have a better job. I did. Really. But I also didn’t want to lose my house husband.
“You’ll be fine Darcy. John can take care of the same things for you.”
John was the other handyman. And by other, I mean the one I didn’t like. He wasn’t as good. He was also smaller than me, so if I couldn’t lift something, why would I ask him to?

I rode back up in the elevator to my apartment, sulking. I sat on the couch looking at everything Fernando had done for me. Freshly painted hallway, check. Perfectly mounted flat screen TV in my apartment, check. I would never have such a well maintenanced home again.
Suddenly everything in my apartment seemed like something that needed fixing and there was no one there to do it.

A week later Fernando was at his new job. I knew it was a couple of blocks away. I had decided to have new shades installed in my bathroom and there was no way I was asking skinny John.
“Hey, Frankie?” I asked my doorman as I was leaving to take Bear to school, “What building did Fernando go to?”
This is sad, but I had visions of walking there, boom box in hand, and standing outside the front door holding it over my head like LLoyd Dobler in Say Anything. Frankie blessed me with the coveted information, but I never went over there. Even though I wanted to.

A year later I moved. My new apartment needed everything. And I needed help. With nowhere to turn I picked up my phone and quickly pulled up Fernando’s number. It rang a few times before he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Fernando? It’s me. Darcy. From your old building? (A couple of years ago? Awkward.) Yes. Hi! Oh, everything’s fine. It’s just that, well, I moved. Yes. Into a new building. And there are a lot of things I need done and I am looking to hire someone. Would you be interested?”
I let the question linger and it was met with semi-silence on the other end. Like one of the Bachlorettes waiting for their rose at the most dramatic rose ceremony yet, I silently begged in my head. Please, say yes. Please choose me. I may have even made that awkward squinty smile.
“Oh. I have a friend who probably do it. Should I give him your number?” Fernando said, completely uninterested.
What? Passing me off to his friend? Was Fernando turning me down?
“Oh. You mean, you can’t do it?”
At this point it was becoming embarrassing for all parties involved. I was basically pleading. Music may or may not have started to play. You know, the kind where they try to get people off the stage when their speeches were too long.
“Darcy, I am just so busy with this new job. I don’t have any time.”
“Oh. Okay. Well if you change your mind, just let me know.” Just like Robbie, I wasn’t really taking no for an answer. (See: Robbie.com, Robbie Report, He’s Baaack, et al)

I hung up the phone and realized: Fernando had moved on. And I had to as well. I did what I always do with guys I stop dating so I don’t ever feel tempted to contact them again. I deleted his number from my phone. I had to come to the realization that there were other men, with other drills in the sea.

Oh, and guess what? Coincidentally, in my new building, the supers name is also Fernando. He may not be the same as my old Fernando, but they have the same name. So for now…it will do, or at least, it will have to.

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The Thing About Crushes

October 24, 2011

Timothy Hutton and Natalie Portman via: Beautiful Girls

I remember when I was a newlywed, I had an old camp flame coming into the city. The one that always made my heart beat a little faster. The one I would kiss every time we got together. I was newly married and he was coming to the city. It’s not that I wanted to kiss him, but it was then that I realized. Oh…marriage is… everyday.

One night, while sitting at home, not using the Cuisinart we had registered for for our wedding, I started to think about all the people I never quite got around to making out with, who I would have liked to make out with. One in particular came to mind. Brady Reardon.

I met Brady when I was younger. Way younger. Way too young for Brady. I was 16 years old the last time I had seen him. He was 26. He spent his summers right down the street from me. My relationship with Brady was similar to that of Natalie Portman and Timothy Huttons relationship in Beautiful Girls, only I didn’t wear overalls at 16. I was guilty of wearing inappropriate dresses and tops from Betsy Johnson. Truth be told I was 16 going on 26. It was a sweet, innocent relationship, that felt like more to me. Maybe because I had wanted it to be. But I was sure, in some way Brady liked me too, even though he ever acted on it (except for the one time he grabbed my cheek and kissed it softly, to which I vowed never to wash my face again. At least until later that evening. I mean, come on. I was a teenager and obsessed with Sea Breeze.)

Brady and I would flirt. Or rather, I would flirt with Brady. I know it sounds odd but it always felt like Brady flirted back. He treated me like a little sister but I always had a hunch, even then, that there was more to it. He was never inappropriate and always treated me with respect. Brady was from the south and had a hot southern accent that I didn’t get to hear much of in the Northeast. He was big and strong and just…dreamy. I hearted him completely.

The summer had ended, and it was my last summer with Brady.

Brady moved to Texas, or Atlanta. Possibly Alabama. Even though I lost him, I never forgot him. From time to time I would look him up. But never found him. Until one day, after my divorce, I found his parents. On the internet. Like a crazy stalker. Or like my mother. (see: My Mom The Stalker). I called them and asked for Brady’s contact information. Including his e-mail. I didn’t think I had the nerve to call, but I emailed him right away.

When I saw his name in my inbox I was psyched. It turned out, Brady was living down south still, he was divorced and had two children. We caught up quickly and I told him to let me know if he was ever in town. He promised to, but life got in our way and took us in different directions. Brady never came to town, that I knew of, and once again we lost touch…until Facebook.

Brady and I became Facebook friends, and exchanged a few e-mails back and forth. He was settled in his life down south, and I was in New York City. We talked about a visit soon, but it never came to fruition. Over time I would see his updates, though there weren’t many, and it appeared he had a girlfriend. Good for Brady. Bad for me. But enough about me…let’s talk about me.

I woke up one morning to find an e-mail in my Facebook inbox from him.
“Darcy, I am in the city if you want to meet up give me a call.” complete with his cell phone number.
My stomach dropped. It didn’t take one minute before I shot him a text, “Absolutely!”
Later that evening we picked a place to meet up for a drink.
I was standing outside waiting for Brady when I suddenly spot him walking toward me. From a distance he still had the same walk. I think I squealed like a pig from excitement, but kept it all inside. As he got closer I realized he wasn’t as tall as I remembered, but back then I didn’t wear 4 inch heels. He was still taller than me and that’s all that really mattered.

He approached and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He still felt the same. He had gone a bit grey and his stomach was a bit rounder than it used to be, but his smile was the same and so were his eyes. He let out a little laugh. Yep. It was Brady.
“Look at you, all tall…” He said.
“It’s the heels.” I said, as I flashed my foot at him.

We walked into the restaurant and grabbed a seat at the bar. I couldn’t believe I was sitting with Brady. His thick southern accent took me right back to my 16-year-old self. We talked about everything from our kids (his were teens now), our divorces, our careers, where we had been and where we were going. He told me about his relationship that had been going on for 2 ½ years.
“You are older than my girlfriend.” He said.
“Wow. That’s cool.” I guess? Or you are calling me old? Not sure.
Brady seemed pretty distant. Like he was out for drinks with a business associate.
“Brady, do you remember me?” I finally asked.
“Yea I remember you.” He said. It didn’t sound convincing. I mean, of course he remembered me. Enough to be my Facebook friend, and meet for drinks when he was in town. But that’s not what I meant.
“But do you remember me?” I asked again.
“Darcy, yes of course I do.” But there was no feeling in his answer.
“Do I look different?? Other than being 20 years older than the last time you saw me. Do you recognize me?” Okay, I was fishing. For something. Anything.
I realized in that moment, while as a teenager, I thought my crush on Brady was reciprocated in some way or another, it wasn’t. I was surprised. I could have sworn it was. Really, truly. Even my closest friends who watched our interactions would have guessed otherwise. But I could tell by his indifference he just thought of me as any other kid. Regardless, I was excited to see Brady and it was nice to catch up and talk about old summer memories we shared. Even if he hadn’t been wondering about me all these years and we had completely different memories of what our relationship was.

Feeling slightly deflated, fatigue was starting to set in. I had a really long day and had a very early meeting the following morning. I let out a yawn. I tried to hide it but failed miserably.
“Am I boring you?” He asked.
“No. I just had a long day, and I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you are yawning.”
“It’s not you. My brain is tired, but I’m not tired.” I carried a watermelon.
“You have the tiniest hands.” He said, placing his hand next to mine on the bar.
“I guess i’d prefer that to man hands.” I said and smiled.
“They are half the size of mine.” He said, pressing his hand to mine. The thing about Brady is he was always so rugged and strong. Still was. Even though he was looking a little softer around the edges.
“Want to get out of here and go somewhere else? Want to grab something to eat? Head to another place?”
“Whatever you want. You are the tourist in this town tonight.” I said. The truth is, while I was so excited to see Brady, and his smile made me feel about 20 years younger, I was bummed that my crush wasn’t reciprocated, and my adrenalin about seeing him and started wear off since it seemed I was just another random friend to him. I figured it was time to call it a night. Plus, we had already covered the fact that he was probably going to marry his longtime girlfriend.
“Let’s head out of here and find another place.”
He tipped the bartender one last time and put his hand on the small of my back (for a millisecond, not that I was counting) to escort me out of the restaurant.

We walked out of the bar onto the quieter city street.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Lets just walk and figure it out.” I said.

Suddenly, I felt a strong arm around my waist. It was so sudden I wasn’t even sure it was Brady. But it was. He whisked me to the side of the sidewalk and pulled me close. He kissed me. Hard. Good hard. Not bad hard or creepy hard. Just…passionately. It was so quick I could barely balance myself.

“Um… What was that?” I asked.
“Oh SHIT.” He said.
With that he kissed me again. Harder this time.
“FUCK.” He said, as he took a few steps back running his hands nervously through his hair.
“What?”
“Darcy. Damn you are beautiful.”
“What??”
Brady suddenly clenched his fists tight. He put his hands behind his head as though he were literally trying to hold himself back.
“UGHHHHHHH. Damn it.”
Great. Did Brady had Tourette’s? Had I missed that?
“Whats going on here? About 20 minutes ago I was wondering if you even knew who I was or that I was even a woman.” I asked.
He covered his face with his hands and slid them back through his hair.
“Of course I know who you are. I was just trying to be a gentleman, but then I couldn’t let this night go by without letting you know there was attraction. Man Darcy, you are sexy and you are beautiful. Look at you.”
I looked at him. Stunned. It was the moment I had always waited for and it was finally here.
“I kept asking you, all night, if you remembered me, because it seemed like you didn’t.”
“Darcy, of course I remember you. I thought you were beautiful then, I knew when you grew up you’d be this. But you were so young, and I would have never crossed that line. But of course I thought about it, you know, about when you were older. From the minute I showed up and saw what you look like now I knew I was in screwed.”
I knew it!
“I thought about it too. A lot.” I felt like a teenager making this disclosure. Not a grown woman with a child.
He leaned in to kiss me again. He held my face with his hands and looked into my eyes. Then he took a step back and started pacing around. He might have even walked away and came back. Here was this strong, tough guy who had lived in Iraq and fought in Desert Storm. And I was making him nervous.
I laughed nervously, “What’s wrong?”
He let out a deep sigh.
I knew what was wrong. He didn’t need to tell me. For as great as this moment was, he had a girlfriend. A long-term girlfriend. Who was everyday.
“Don’t make this mistake. You will regret it. And I don’t want to ruin us, and your memories of me, with feelings of guilt or regrets.” I said and took a healthy step backward.
“In two and a half years I have never come close to crossing the line. I don’t know what is going on Darcy. I just….” He made the clenched fists again.
I got it. We had been waiting for a moment like this for 20 years, literally, but life got in the way. First I was too young, then he was married, then I was married, now he had a girlfriend. Sometimes timing is everything.
“It really says something about chemistry.” He said.
“What do you mean?”
“We had it 20 years ago. And we have it now.”
“I know. But this isn’t our time. Again.” I smiled.
“When I saw you, you blew me away, and then you said you were 35, and I realized you were older than my girlfriend. You were a woman now. And I realized, you weren’t a kid anymore.”
“Sadly.”

In that moment I realized what was so amazing about Brady was that he would remain my crush. Crushes were perfect. They were flawless. Because they aren’t real. You don’t get to see people’s flaws. They are insulated in bubble wrap made of wishes and fantasies. You don’t know if they leave dishes in the sink, or don’t call when they say they will. You don’t know if they don’t handle conflict well or make terrible boyfriends. You do know that you think they are good-looking, funny and you are attracted to them in several ways. But a crush is a picture that you take, a snapshot that stays with you unmarred by reality. Sometimes a crush… is better than the real thing.

“I’m going to go before you make a big mistake.” I said, kissing him on the forehead.
“You’re killing me Darcy.”
He wanted to say he would call me, I wanted to tell him to. But for now, there was nowhere to go from here. He called me the next day to tell me how special he thinks I am.
“Likewise Brady.” I said, and silently thanked the universe he lived many states away.

And just like that, Brady was re-shelved in the crush archives of my mind. Maybe I would check him out of the library one day and take him for a spin. Life is unpredictable. You never know…

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There Were Two In The Bed and The Little One Said…

October 17, 2011

This is not me, and this is not Bear. And in real life, my alarm clock is an IPhone. Via: singlemindedwomen

“Mommy, I am so glad you got a table for my side of the bed.”
“That’s not your side of the bed.”

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