Married Guy –

I met Married Guy when I was a single 17-year old senior in high school and he was a single 26-year old graduate student.  He was in town from New York City for the weekend, and we were introduced through a mutual friend.  From the moment we saw each other we were both instantly attracted, and we both independently told our mutual friend as such.  Against orders to keep that information private, our friend let us each know of our mutual attraction.  Over the course of the weekend, Married Guy and I got to know each other and found that we had a considerable amount in common.  But, as I was 17, and anything beyond friendship would have been illegal, Married Guy returned to New York City as my newest friend. 

We kept in touch via email, and the next year when he came to visit, I was an 18-year old freshman in college.  When I saw him it was clear that our mutual attraction had only grown over the course of the year, and on his last night in town, Married Guy kissed me.  To this day, it is still the best kiss I have ever received.  When he kissed me, I melted; and when it was clear that all he wanted to do was kiss me, not try to take advantage of me, I was convinced that he was a keeper. 

I went back to school, and Married Guy went back to New York.  We continued to email each other, he sent me a couple of CDs to expand my music library, and I decided that I couldn’t wait an entire year before I saw him again.  So I decided to spend my spring break in New York.  It turned out that Married Guy’s spring break was at the same time as mine, and he had plans to go overseas, so we would only overlap in New York City by 1 night. 

That night, I took a cab across town to meet Married Guy in his neighborhood.  We walked around for a while through the snow and twinkly lights, and then went out for dinner.  It was late, and the friend I came up to New York with was expecting me back, so Married Guy hailed me a cab.  After a short kiss, I got in. 

I went back to school, and a few months later, I started dating someone.  I told Married Guy about my boyfriend, and when he came down for his yearly visit, we were back to being just friends.  Over the next year we fell out of touch, the emails stopped, and I didn’t make an effort to see him the next time he came into town. 

Fall of my senior year of college, I was newly single, and it was time to start applying to graduate school.  I contacted Married Guy, who had always been a mentor to me, for guidance.  He and I exchanged countless emails and spent hours on the phone talking about standardized tests, applications and essays.  I don’t know that I would have been accepted into the program I am currently enrolled in had it not been for his help. 

Married Guy had moved to Washington, D.C., and that June I had plans to visit one of my best friends who lives there.  I asked him if he would allow me to take him out to dinner when I was in D.C. as a thank you for all of his help.  He agreed and sent me the link to the restaurant he had chosen. 

My feelings for Married Guy had started to re-develop over the course of that year, and I wasn’t sure if his had too.  I checked the link to the restaurant he had chosen, and the website described it as cozy, dark, quiet, intimate, etc.  I started to think that this might be a date.  Married Guy had told me that he was thinking of moving back to New York, and as I was moving there in a month’s time to begin a new chapter in my life as a 21-year old graduate student at his alma mater, we were finally going to be in the same place.  I thought that this date might just be the first of many. 

I spent a considerable amount of time getting ready and met Married Guy at the restaurant.  We were seated at a dimly lit corner table and talked over a bottle of wine for 30 minutes before we even opened our menus.  He insisted that I taste his soup, I gave him a few bites of my salad, and our wonderful conversation continued into the main course.  As our entrees were set down before us, Married Guy told me that he was excited because he was going on his first vacation in over 2 years, to Tahiti for 2 weeks.  I asked him whom he was going with, because who goes to Tahiti by themselves for 2 weeks?  And he casually responded, “my wife.”  My jaw dropped.  I immediately looked at his left ring finger and saw that it was bare.  I started laughing.  I told Married Guy that he was pretty funny, and asked him to really tell me whom he was going with.  He then said, “well, she will be my wife by then.  I’m getting married in California in a month.”  I felt sick.  I thought I might vomit, or cry, or both. 

Who was she? How long had they been dating? When did he get engaged? All of these questions came flying out of my mouth, one after the other.  Married Guy told me that he had met his future wife 2 months after I got into that cab in the snow in New York City.  They had been dating ever since, and had been living together in Washington, D.C. for the past year.  “Didn’t I tell you I was engaged?” he asked.  Nope, I was pretty sure I would have remembered such a piece of information.  He was 31 now, and he explained that he felt it was time to settle down.  His fiancée was the same age, and she was starting to think about having children.  After all, he told me, she had dedicated 3 years to him, moved with him from New York down to D.C., and marrying her was the right thing to do.

I pushed through my perfectly cooked piece of halibut and then shared a piece of chocolate cake with Married Guy at his insistence.  He refused to let me pick up the check, and we left the restaurant.  It was 11pm on a Wednesday.  His apartment was on the way to my friend’s, and so we shared a cab.  As soon as he got out, I called up one of my girlfriends and broke into tears.  Through my hysteria, I told my friend the story of what had happened over dinner.  She knew all about Married Guy, and she couldn’t believe that all that time he had been in a serious, committed relationship and had never let on.

As I was getting out of the cab, the driver turned to me, and in his thick Indian accent, told me that I “shouldn’t shed another tear over a man who would lead me on in such a way.”  I went into my friend’s apartment, cried myself to sleep, and in the morning I replayed every interaction that Married Guy and I had ever shared.  I realized that although he never told me about his girlfriend, he had also never made a move on me while he was in that relationship.  All of our conversations over the past year had been centered around my applications to grad school, and while at the time I thought that he might have been helping me because he had romantic feelings for me, maybe he was just helping me because he was a good friend who genuinely cared about me in a purely platonic way. 

Since that non-date in D.C. a little over 1 year ago, Married Guy did get married in California and move back to New York City.  We live 60 blocks away from each other, but I’ve only seen him twice in the past year.  He is still supportive and makes time to help me when I hit rough patches and need a friend and some guidance.  I still wonder what would have happened if I had spent some more time with him and hadn’t gotten into that cab in the snow, but I believe that everything happens for a reason, and I’m happy that he has found a woman to call his wife with whom he’s happy. 

 

A Note - 

I shared this story first not only because I’ve decided to author this blog in chronological order, but also because through this experience I learned the importance of timing.  Timing is one of those factors that makes being passed-over by a guy a little more bearable because there was just something that was out of my control.  The nine years between Married Guy and myself seems to have made all the difference, and I think that recognizing that is what has allowed me to move on. 

As hard as it is not to take it personally when a guy chooses another girl over me, if I did take it personally every time, I might never date again.  So what’s the alternative?  Realize that not everyone is going to like me, I’m not going to like everyone, and sometimes that means I’m going to get hurt, and other times that means guys are going to get hurt.  But getting hurt is part of growing and developing as an independent individual, and to me it’s worth the pain to have a little fun and excitement.  Besides, I’m totally boy-crazy and if I’m not crushing on one guy, I’m crushing on another.  I’ve been this way since pre-K.  I think it’s in my genes. 

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