Walking on Ice

Am I not right in thinking that the idiom "To put something on ice" means a temporary halt?

In any case, I thought that despite Henry putting us on ice, we could still remain in touch. So I kept him as a Facebook friend and even sent him a couple of messages, as a friend, pondering about something rather trivial, as you do with your friends.

No reply. Not even a "Thank you" when I sent him a link to something regarding one of many topics we discussed passionately.

Did this mean he didn't want any contact at all until in two or three months? Would we then simply pick up where we left off?

At first, after eating a bit of chocolate, I hadn't felt too bad about this ice-situation, thinking that 2-3 months would pass quickly because I was indeed very busy, and then we'd finally have the time to get to know each other better. And, he would be even further into his journey of being sober, probably not as preoccupied with AA meetings and that sort of stuff anymore.

But Henry's complete silence made me uncomfortable.

So now I'm tossing and turning, trying to figure out what he actually meant. I should have asked!

The Iceman

That's it, I just don't get it. Any of it.

There was no doubt in my mind after our second meet-up that there was chemistry between me and Henry, and that it was mutual. We sent playful texts to each other and even though I was the impatient one, he kept responding and saying hopefully he'd find the time soon for us to be together. And I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking about having more coffee together.

But again, he was terribly busy, and then there were the AA meetings and his work for those, all the reading and then the weekly CoDA meetings.

I was patient, I thought he was definitely worth the wait. But then I received an alarming message from him; he needed some space because he'd had a health scare and needed more testing, it was something to do with his lungs, and since he's a smoker, I got genuinely concerned for him. Never mind whether anything had or would happen between us, he'd need support if the test results came out bad and since I was involved in volunteer work for young people who have been diagnosed with cancer, I'm very knowledgeable in this field. So I just sent him one more text, telling him I'd like to be kept posted and he shouldn't hesitate to contact me if he needed anything.

About a week later, he texted me a smiley face and said the tests had come out fine, he was OK, nothing to worry about. Thrilled by these wonderful news, I rang him as I wandered around the grocery shop trying to figure out what to have for dinner. He sounded really relieved so I understood how heavy this had been on him, so I suggested we'd meet up soon to celebrate, not his evening, but just soon.

That's when his voice changed and the all too familiar we-need-to-talk-tone popped up in his voice. He said he just didn't think this was a great time for him, it appeared he'd be really busy for the next 2-3 months, at weekends too. "I think it's best if we put this on ice."

Funny enough, I was just standing by the frozen seafood, looking down on packets of fish fingers and fish burgers. I only managed to stutter "Yes, of course, I'm quite busy too so I guess it's just really bad timing," to which he agreed.

So we left it there, with a hint of "Let's wait and see" in the air as we finished the conversation and I quickly decided to go for frozen pizza. And chocolate for dessert.

Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me

Finally, Henry found time to see me again. But he was pressed for time because he had a CoDA meeting to go to so we just met in another coffee shop.

So we sat there and talked about religion and child upbringing and the education system and we agreed on so many things; I love talking to this man! But I was also terribly aware of his strong hands as he sipped his coffee or fiddled with the wrapping from the complimentary piece of chocolate that came with it. I could see he was hairy; he had long, blond arm hair peeking out from under the sleeve and a bit on the back of his hands. And with a couple of buttons unbuttoned at the top of his shirt, I could see a bunch of even longer chest hair swaying to the rhythm of his Adam's apple. And I just luuuv body hair, it drives me crazy.

In fact, Henry turned me on so much that I couldn't sit still there, I just wanted him to reach over the table grab me in his strong, hairy arms, kiss me passionately and use those big hands with long piano fingers to explore my body. But we were in a coffee shop and it was the middle of the day and he was getting late for his meeting. So in the end, all I got was a quick peck on the cheek and a boyish wink accompanied with his beautiful smile, before he rushed off to catch the bus.

I stumbled out of the coffee shop and went to a nearby gift shop run by a friend of mine. She knew nothing about Henry but as soon as I was over the threshold she raised her eyebrows and asked "Are you in LOVE???" I just laughed nervously, said I might at least be falling in love, hard. And since she's initially an actress, I asked her whether she might have heard of Henry, the cameraman? Oh yes, "Henry?" she nodded dreamily, "Oh, I bet he's an amazing lover, there's just something about him."

I couldn't agree more. I bet he's a wonderful kisser and a perfect lover. Definitely one of those who enjoys kissing so much he can spend hours snogging.

Then how come he hasn't tried to kiss me yet? He obviously likes me, he finds me funny and intellectually stimulating. He sends me messages telling me how great it is to be able to talk about these things (the Universe etc.) with me. And I AM cute and attractive and sexy and most men can't keep their hands off me once I give them permission. As well as those I don't give permission.

Discussing this with my friends, they reminded me of the Sex and the City episode where Carrie started dating a recovering alcoholic and it was all too soon so he wound up drinking again. I am aware that Henry is dealing with a lot of stuff at the moment, rediscovering himself and all that. And I do admire him for doing all this hard work to become a better man, not doing things half-heartedly.

I'm just not very patient! I wanna be kissed!!!

My New Boyfriend

How could I become so smitten with some guy I’d only met once?

For the next few days I was in some sort of a daze. All I could think about was how much I wanted to meet Henry again. And by ‘meeting’ him I meant kissing him too. I just knew by instinct he’d be a great kisser, he had this air about him, of being a great lover. Slow, sensual lover who’d whisper in your ear with this deep, soft voice. Mmmm.

However, he was a very busy man, shooting films and commercials on weekends, tutoring at a film school mid-week. And when it wasn’t work related it was AA meetings. Every night, seven nights a week. And on Sundays, he’d go to CoDA meetings in the afternoon as well. He also sometimes had to turn up early to the meetings because he had some sort of a job, arranging the chairs, making coffee and stuff. He was very much into it.

But even though we weren’t seeing much of each other, we talked. A lot. Suddenly I enjoyed talking on the phone for ages, something I’d normally not do. In fact, up until now I thought I suffered from phone-phobia but perhaps I just never had anyone interesting enough to talk to!

I loved hearing Henry’s deep voice over the phone and listen to all his wisdom. He was reading books and contemplating life, death, the universe and such. Thanks to him, I’ve now started reading The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. It’s a nice read, although I think I might have made most of those discoveries a decade ago and would have needed Tolle’s advice much more then.

Still getting texts from Eddie, the boy, though. I keep replying politely but last night, I received two texts, one from Eddie and one from Henry, in the same minute.  

After having texted Henry about how impatient I was getting, waiting for our second date, wondering if he in fact wanted to see me again at all, he replied: “There’s only one moment, this one here and now. And if my moment becomes your moment sometime soon, I will relish that. x” Eddie’s text read: “Hey, u goin out tonite girrrl?”

I lied to Eddie, told him I was having a nice evening in, with my new boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. I wanted to spend that Saturday night in, on the couch… texting Henry, who was technically my soon-to-be-boyfriend anyways!

Oh, Henry!

Thankfully, Henry wasn't put off by my weird reply - which I tried to clear up immediately by texting him again, saying it was a private joke AND that I'd been half asleep.

However, he was extremely busy, it seemed, and so was I.

For more than a week we had several incidents where one of us had an opening for a quick cuppa, but the other didn't. We hadn't even started talking on the phone, only texting each other but by now, a few times a day.

I think I was trying not to get my hopes up too high by refraining from hearing his voice, because I already liked him so much without knowing what he looked like or whether there would be any chemistry between us.

But finally, we both had last Sunday afternoon free and so decided to meet at a cafe near my home. I arrived 'fashionably' late, walked to the middle of the floor and looked around, not quite sure I'd recognize Henry. All I knew was that he was tall, slim and blonde - and I saw no one looking like that in the busy cafe. 

Then I heard a deep, baritone voice saying my name, behind me. I turned around and looked into steel grey eyes, sparkling and surrounded by smile wrinkles. Henry had the most wonderful warm smile.

I sat by his table, ordered tea and we started talking. We talked and talked for over two hours, very philosophically, about everything; life, values, education, human behaviour, love.

Henry sounded incredibly wise and contemplating. He'd divorced eight years earlier and been in a four year long relationship since then. He had two teenage daughters and showed me a picture of them on his phone. He had this distinctive, comfortable presence, very warm and serene.

And he was very honest. He told me he was a recovering alcoholic, had joined Alcoholics Anonymous a year ago, when he'd hit the bottom hard, e.g. lost his drivers license for life.

Had he told me that when we were still only messaging each other, I'd have stopped thinking about him there and then. Not that I don't socialize with recovering alcoholics or have anything against them, but I would have been scared of trying to date one, too much risk.

But, after having spent two hours with him, I didn't care. I didn't care either that he's a smoker, a vice I'd otherwise find a total turn-off. Nope, I didn't care at all, I only wanted to get to know him better and be in his presence for as long as I possibly could. When we had to part, after almost three hours, I was saddened.

I walked him to his bus stop and we agreed we definitely wanted to see each other again, then he winked at me and jumped aboard the bus.

I didn't walk home, because my feet couldn't touch the ground. I was floating. What a man!

The Art of Waiting

Right.

So he didn't reply that day. Not in the evening either. Even though I stayed up late to monitor both my phone and Henry's Facebook page. And there was no reply when I eagerly checked my phone as soon as I woke up.

Twenty-four hours passed and I heard nothing from Henry. He hadn't been on Facebook either. After work, I dropped in at my friend Alice's and showed her my empty Inbox. Alice, with all her experience of text messaging impossible, obnoxious men, instantly asked: 'Do you not have the Delivery Report setting switched on?' What bl**** setting?

So no, I didn't and therefore couldn't be absolutely sure that the message had in fact reached Henry. But come on, why shouldn't it have, I asked Alice. Does anyone turn off their mobile phones these days, for 24 hours straight? Hardly. And being a busy, freelance camera man, he probably recharges his phone religiously.

'Maybe he's traveling?' Alice suggested, always ready to find explanations (read: excuses) for men not keeping in touch. I explained to her how, in these times, he'd have to be on either one of the Poles, climbing Everest or something equally extreme in such an exotic place that it wouldn't have phone reception, and that he would definitely have mentioned if he was packing for such an adventure when I last heard from him. Besides, he had commitments at a film school where he was tutoring once a week.

No, Henry was probably just yet another immature middle-aged man who panicked as soon as he faced any sort of confrontation and came to the utterly stupid conclusion that the most successful response was to play dead.

Ah, well. Good to know that before I even saw him! It would be hard day dreaming about the one-who-got-away with his face missing. And no more time would be wasted checking his Facebook page every ten minutes. Alice and I started joking around, making up excuses for Henry not to reply.

The winner was: 'He accidentally chopped off all his fingers while making firewood for his elderly mother...who lives in an old, damp cottage...in...Effushire!' We thought we were hilarious.

Eventually, I dragged myself home, way too late and just managed to spit out the toothpaste before my head hit the pillow.

And sure enough, what seemed to be only a few moments later, my mobile phone beeped. I reached for it and saw that it was almost midnight. And there it was, only 36 hours later, a reply from Henry: 'Yes, I'd love to see you in person! Am out of town working on a project right not, but lets find time soon. :)'

I laid back on the pillow and smiled. Despite being almost too tired to type, I replied and stuck my phone under the pillow before going back to sleep.

As I was drifting away again, my consciousness kicked in. A gnawing feeling made me suddenly wide awake and I swiftly sat up in the bed. What the hell had I written in that text???

I grabbed the phone and checked my Sent Messages as my heart pounded in my chest.
'Oh, good! You didn't chop off all your fingers then!'

Nice.One.

Five Stars

The verdict was in five days later. According to Alice's friend, Henry is 'smart, funny and a good person. A 5 star guy.' However, she didn't know what his situation is, whether he has a girlfriend or not.

'Just ask him already!' Alice added.

I thought about it long and hard. At least he wasn't married for twenty years or anything. So, if I were to ask him out, nobody could blame me for not knowing if he was in fact living with someone or dating, how was I suppose to know if he didn't 'advertise' it on Facebook. Or hadn't told me, even though our messaging had been short and not personal. If I asked him out, he would simply be forced to tell me the truth about his circumstances and then I'd know. And he would be flattered, as he should be.

But I noticed that he hadn't been active on Facebook this past week. Nothing had happened on his page, he hadn't liked anything or replied to comments. I thought of the whole year that had passed between him joining Facebook and becoming active enough to reply to my message and suddenly got scared that he had lost interest in Facebook and wouldn't log on for months again! OMG how could he do that, just leave me hanging without knowing what he even looked like! And no way of contacting him ever again.

Oh wait, his mobile number was listed on his Facebook Info page.

So, fueled by the fear that he wouldn't log on to Facebook till next year, and that by then, some cow would have snatched him from me and gotten herself pregnant and everything...I texted him.

'Hey, it's Me. Would you perhaps like to see me in real life sometime soon?'