I think I fell in love with a traveller
3:45 AM
Dear Abby,
I know I've said this line close to a hundred times throughout our friendship, but I met a guy. No wait! I think it's him. Deep breaths. That's something I know I haven't said before and I wouldn't casually throw it out there unless I'm a hundred percent sure.
I'm a hundred percent sure.
I'm just not sure if meeting him means ending up together - which is a terrifying thought.
See, we met on Tinder. I know how that sounds. In fact, I'm acutely aware how this whole thing is going to sound. But I just had to tell someone.
First, he needs a name. It's Bandi. But not like Bambi, more like Bundy, like, Ted Bundy. This isn't going right, let me try again.
Bandi (with a 'Bun' and a throaty 'dhi') was born in the Netherlands but moved to the States when he was in second grade. Which State? Austin, Texas. My Austin Texas. He majored in creative writing, then took a year after that to do real estate for his father who had left the world of IT for the more lucrative gold rush of property. I know. Spooky.
I could go on - there's a whole list of unnerving coincidences, like how he has a younger brother, who used to be a younger sister, who is 21 this year, and who is clinically diagnosed with bipolarism, exactly just like mine (Only Bandi’s brother is a month and a day older than mine) - but all that couldn't account for how I felt.
So this is where it gets really cheesy.
Do you know that feeling when you meet someone and the more you get to know them, the more you recognize them even though you've only met for four hours and you're having dinner in the same restaurant you brought your last Tinder date to (Which in hindsight was a reckless move since the waiter obviously recognized me as soon as I walked in with another man, hand in tow.
"You're back!" he had said, looking 17-ish, and excited and completely oblivious.
"...I’m back!"
And then Bandi had to turn to me and say, "You came here earlier today?" so of course I had to tell him the truth)?
Me neither!
But there I was, carried along from our initial plan for a quick coffee date, to dinner, then drinks by the current of our conversation, liking this guy more and more.
He’s got the shyest smile, an ability to carry the conversation once you got it going, and piercings on his lip and nose that totally belie the sweet, steady person that he was. You’d like him.
But then again that's old territory. I'm way too familiar by now with the old hat routine of meeting someone, and falling for them when I shouldn't, and then wondering why it's taking so long for them to reply my texts, and then trying to reclaim the magic of that first night we had together by sending more messages because I can’t reconcile the person they’ve become with the person I remembered, and getting hurt. Joel was supposed to be the last straw.
So if that’s all true, tell me, why did I do what I did next.
“So what are your plans after this?” I asked.
We were sitting on outdoor lounge chairs at a bar in Sunway Pyramid. I had just told him about my father; he had just told me about his.
“I guess I’ll grab an Uber and head back to my hotel,” he said.
“Me too,” one pint of beer in and I was already feeling flushed and heavy. “I definitely can’t ride tipsy. Or we could share an Uber and drop me off at my place.”
“We could.”
“Or…” I took a deep breath, “We could just head over to my place and spend the night there.” Maybe I wanted to be hurt.
This wasn’t supposed to happen - I wasn’t supposed to like him that much. It’s not even like this was my first Tinder date. Just before that, we had been talking about the string of dates I had lined up for my slut phase when he made a noise. “What’s wrong?” I had asked.
“I’m just trying to imagine where I fit in that line,” he had said.
But now he wasn’t making any sound. He wasn’t saying anything. Bandi just stared off into the distance.
“What are you thinking?” I asked for the hundredth time that night.
“I’m thinking,” he looked at me, made a fist and smiled, “Score.”
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| Spoiler: Sneaky pic of Bandi just before he left |
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