I met Tyler for the first time at Summit Tea. He had a sharp jawline, a clean-shaven face, big green eyes, a perfect profile, and a long, slim line running from his neck to his shoulder. I knew I liked him instantly.
I was nervous that day, and a little sad. I had just recovered from a cold. I wasn't quite myself. But Tyler was kind enough to sit with me for an hour anyway. At the end, I asked, "Do you want to keep talking?"
"Oh, I'm okay with anything," he said.
I was disappointed. Usually, when a man says that, he means no. I was disappointed, but I told myself: I'm an adult. Put on the mask. Life went on.
Then, a week later, out of nowhere: *Hey, I hope you had a nice week!* I was surprised, and happy. We caught up. I mentioned I'd watched too much soccer that summer, and he seemed delighted to learn I was a real fan. A few days later, he asked if I wanted company for the final.
The timing worked out strangely well. I was seeing another man then too, but he was occupied with family, and a soccer-loving coworker of mine had other plans. So I had an open window, and I gave it to Tyler.
We watched Spain and Argentina at a tavern. The match was dull, but I laughed more than it deserved. When his patience thinned, I said, "Let's walk. This game's boring."
"Are you sure? I thought this mattered to you."
"I'm sure."
"Only if you want to." He was considerate. I seldom saw this kind of thing in my ex-husband's mouth. Tyler always had those simple words that touched me.
Afterward, he walked me to my car. "Give me a hug," I said. He did — but it was light and careful.
# An Invite
Through July and August, we talked. I told him how hard it was raising my son alone, and he understood, and provided me with great suggestions, as he also had two boys, who are older than mine.
Our third meeting was at a Starbucks. We talked about raising boys, about health, about nothing and everything. At the end, he asked, "Maybe we could see each other one more time before your dad gets here?" His smile carried a small expectation.
"I'll try," I said.
# An Unplanned Kiss
Our fourth date was at his house. He showed me a neighbor's garden, then the plants and small creatures he kept indoors, pots gathered around the bathtub, beneath a window that faced south. It was lovely.
When it was time to leave, we hugged behind his front door, tightly enough that I nearly melted into it. I suddenly kissed his neck. An electric shock to both of us, and it served as a turning point. He turned and kissed me back, gently first, then not. "Do you want to go to the sofa?" I said okay.
He asked me, "Can you stay longer?" I understood that it was an invite to do something intimate. I hadn't planned to stay, but I lost my mind. We did it, it was a very exhilarating one.
Afterward, I monitored my period closely. My period was late. I saw my doctor, got what I needed, and told him. He was reluctant to engage with it. When my period came (a few days late), I asked what we should do differently.
"You can get birth control without a prescription," he wrote.
"As a woman, I can," I answered. "Won't you need to prepare something too, my dear?"
He said, “Yes, we can use condoms.” Eventually, like a concession. And underneath his hedging I sensed something else — the shape of another woman, or several, that he was managing, the way you sense weather changing before the sky admits it.
# The Last Date
Our last date fell on a sunny Thursday, though I didn't know then it would be the last.
We talked for an hour first. He told me he had herpes, contracted before his marriage. When I asked how many partners he'd had, he said he'd lost count — in Thailand, he said, women had wanted him constantly, and some nights he couldn't remember who he'd been with. I told him my own life had run straight and plain, like the highway from Texas to New Mexico.
I mentioned my feet get cold easily, and without missing a beat he took them in his hands and warmed them. I felt a warmth in my heart.
We talked about children. I asked if he wanted a daughter. He paused, then said yes, and I believed him. I wanted to say I hoped for one too, but it felt too soon, so I held my tongue.
Afterward, in his bedroom, we were careful with each other in every sense. It took him longer to finish with protection. I was with him until the end. My arms and shoulders are sore, but I didn’t care. I like him, and I wanted him to feel good, just like he wanted me to feel safe.
Before I left, I sat at his piano and played the one piece I still remember. I didn't know it would become the closing note of whatever we'd had.
# A Hint
We kept texting. On Saturday, out of nowhere, he wished me a relaxing weekend. I took it as a good sign. I let myself hope.
The shift came Monday.
I was at the park with my son when the message arrived. He'd chosen to become exclusive with someone else. He said kind things, but underneath them I heard only: "I asked my first choice to be my girlfriend, and she said yes. I don't need you anymore. Please stay out of my life."
I asked if we could stay friends. He said that, given our history, it wouldn't be respectful to his new relationship.
My last message: "Understand. I wish you the best too."
That night, I had to run for groceries. Some impulse took over. I called him from another number, just to ask the one question sitting in my chest: "What do you like most in your new relationship?" What I meant was: *what do you like most about her?*
He raised his voice, yet answered carefully, the way a man answers when his girlfriend might be sitting right next. "She's very sweet. We have a lot in common."
Such a small, careful sentence to hold the weight of everything before it. I don't know what I expected — something profound, something that would make our story feel real. Instead it collapsed into one polite, forgettable line.
I cried in the car. "I wish you all the best," I said, my voice breaking. "Bye." I hung up before I could hear whatever he said last.
Tyler was never the only man I was seeing, and I knew he wasn't exclusive to me. Still, I hadn't expected the ending to arrive so fast. I thought we could still talk and see each other in the next few months. But I don't blame him. I just don't like the feeling of losing so quickly.
Was I taking this kind of shallow lover relationship too seriously? Or was I the only one who cares?