To start: things are over with Agent 99. I didn't want to admit this to myself at the time, but he was just a bit... weird. It became apparent that he didn't have many friends. Other red flags popped up, that I'd rather not mention here. I think I was so excited (at first) that here was a guy who really wanted to be someone's boyfriend, that I allowed myself to overlook the fact that he just wasn't for me.
The always eloquent Dating Trooper perfectly summed it up this way: we're both looking for a guy who is dynamic, smart, and confident. This guy was smart, but not the other two qualities. Onward.
This month, I had a work trip to Some European Country -- when I travel, it's usually with four other colleagues, and we work with a few locals in a given location. I knew that one of the locals happened to be a rather hot 33-year-old guy (one of my guy colleagues even commented on this beforehand... sort of a "hey, LV, look at this one...").
Yes, very cute, but as they say: don't shit where you eat. In nine years of doing this type of work, I'd only ever had two flings on the road, and neither were guys we were working with (one was a guy I had dated in NY when I was 25, and had moved to Miami).
Well -- never say never. On the third night of the trip, after we'd all had dinner, and everyone else had gone back to their rooms, Hot Euro asked if I wanted to get a drink at the hotel bar. Sure. Turns out the bar was closed (really? at midnight on a Sunday? The nerve!) -- so we each grabbed a few beers from our minibars, and met up at the empty terrace outside the bar. It was a gorgeous, crisp night, and I loved being out there under the stars and nearly-full moon.
It's worth mentioning that he's somewhat of a local celebrity in this country, but he really only became famous this year. Still, he was recognized just about everywhere we went, all week. He's especially popular with the ladies.
I'd heard all the guy talk between him and my colleagues in the previous days, and it was clear that Hot Euro has no shortage of women interested in him. Over our minibar beers, we wound up talking for hours -- I even noticed that the moon was setting.
Amongst other talk of work and life in general, it came out that he ended a long-term relationship earlier this year, and admitted that he dates a lot. I'm sure this new-found fame doesn't hurt.
Our chairs eventually moved closer and closer, and he finally went in for the kiss. Lots of kissing, out there for hours. We finally went up to my room, though I warned him beforehand: we absolutely would not be having sex that night. And we didn't.
(in truth: I might have slept with him that night, but I was just starting to get my period. But he didn't have to know that...).
This was a particularly memorable moment: in the morning, with Hot Euro still in my bed, I went downstairs to briefly meet with my colleagues. It just felt so illicit, so sexy, to have this secret: here we were talking work, while this naked man was upstairs in my bed! I went back upstairs and we (snogged? cuddled? fooled around? can't decide on the terminology here), before I told him he HAD to get out, as we had to get ready and get the day moving.
That day, amongst my colleagues - business as usual. I'd told him that I didn't want anyone to know about us, and he was fine with that.
After that, we hooked up about every other night, eventually sleeping together. Oh my -- it was really, really hot sex. A little rough. And there was the added thrill of having this secret tryst. Though there was a night when we only got three hours of sleep, which made the next day very difficult indeed.
By the end of the week, it became clear that Hot Euro was losing interest in our evening trysts. Our last night in town, I texted him, asking if he wanted to meet for a drink. No reply. He later zipped past me and my colleagues in the hotel bar, saying he was heading out to a friend's party. I didn't care so much about him making other plans, but I was annoyed that he didn't have the courtesy to reply to my text and simply say so.
I was fuming. I knew that this was just a fling, and had a clear expiration date -- but just a little courtesy, please. I felt that it would be pointless to talk to him about it, and tried to just let it go.
We flew home the next day, and I found that I was still annoyed. And I was annoyed with myself for not being able to drop this.
So I emailed him. And to my surprise, he emailed back: he apologized, saying he hadn't intended to do anything wrong, and hoped we could meet up again someday -- and added that it had been a really fun week.
That email swept away the dark cloud that had been over my head, and I felt satisfied that I could just go back to remembering the fun times of the week. Case closed. (though I do get no small amount of delight in sharing stories of the week with my friends, and showing them pictures of him!)
Now back home in NY. There's a hot young Brazilian currently in the picture... but I've already rambled enough for one day, will save him for next time. Let's just say that I'm officially a cougar.
*** ps. good news! I've lost even more weight! Now down to 139.4 -- a total loss of 13.4 lbs! At least five more to go... but I'm already feeling extra confident and fabulous!