That Time I Didn’t Fall In Love On A Plane

Fast forward to the next night at the time he’s supposedly getting out of class.  I’m at the hotel bar, drinking some wine, ready to see where part 2 ends up.

“Still wanna meet up?” I text.

5 minutes later, my phone rings.  People use phones to talk still?  Wow!  I answer, wine tinged brightness in my voice.

After a bit of small talk, he gets to the point.  He’s been up since really early.  He just got out of a very emotionally draining acting class.  He’s tired and in a weird headspace right now.  Too weird to hang out.

I can’t really describe what my brain did during that moment.  Some cocktail of surprise, disbelief, and whatever the emotional equivalent of “here’s your reality check” is flooded through me.

“Well, I leave tomorrow AM so tonight’s all I got.”
“I know.  I hope the next time you’re in NYC you get in touch with me and we can try again.”

I throw out a less than convincing sure! and hang up.

More texts of disbelief to friends happen, more wine happens, and after I’ve finished shaking my head nearly off my shoulders in the the most convincing are you kidding me fashion you’ve ever seen, I decide I want to know the real story.

So I text him.

We aren’t going to see each other again. We were just in a pretty unique situation together. So tell me the truth – what really happened?

He replied somewhere near 2AM with a very lengthy explanation which I won’t transcribe verbatim, but I will highlight reel for you.

In so many (many) words, he told me that he was disappointed by my lukewarm reception to the kiss. He was pretty blunt in his assertion that he was looking to hook up that night, but he wasn’t  sure if I was going to be be receptive.   He went on to say that he got the vibe that I take things slowly, that he’s an all or nothing kind of guy, and that he would have met me if he felt I was a sure thing.  However, he does still hope I’ll get in touch whenever I come back to NYC.


I love honesty and I will take it over bullshit any day.  And I love being honest myself.  In this refreshing spirit of longwinded honesty, I replied saying that if he had been a little more patient he would have probably got what he wanted to begin with.  I told him that a part of me gets it: I can’t totally blame a dude for wanting to get instant ass from the girl he met on a plane who’s in town for 2 nights. But after all the cute conversation and seemingly sweet gestures, to have it rendered all purely to gimme sex RIGHT NOW and no I will not wait until you’ve had a chance to put your goddamn luggage in a room, it’s also just….disappointing as fuck.

His reply to that very politely and wordily knocked me for being guarded, saying that my armor holds me back from enjoying the world and that I should look into the patterns I attract from men.

You know how I know I’m an adult?  I put my phone down and didn’t even respond.  Despite the hellfire having a person who barely knows me make such a reductive judgement call based on one interaction with me where I didn’t instantly drape myself into his lap started in my soul, I knew if I replied it would get a level of ugly that isn’t necessary between two people who will never see each other again.  I will say this: A guy with a bruised ego is a hell of a thing.

And that is how my adorable plane love story ends.  It’s a good one, isn’t it?  High five.

I came away from this thing feeling a couple ways.  One, I’m glad I can be airport greasy and talk to someone for 6 hours without making him want to kill himself.  Still got it!  And two, blech.  Ew.  Why did you have to be such a this is the guy you were warned to stay away from type of DUDE, dude?  Every girl has the “is he just trying to get in my pants or is he genuinely being nice?” question run through her brain with the hope that it’s not 100% the former now and then.  Here is a clear reminder that sometimes it’s exactly that.

I’m not new to interacting with dudes.  I could have predicted where he wanted shit to go, and I wasn’t even opposed to it!  Maybe I wanted to check into my hotel room for a work trip alone and, I don’t know, take a shower to wash 6 hours of plane gunk off of me?  Maybe after a little deodorant and a comb or two through the hair I would have been more receptive.   Maybe not, but DAMN!

Life is funny, guys.  It’s safe to say that I have officially gotten over any romantic ideals about being sat next to the perfect handsome stranger on a plane.

I’ll keep hope alive for the produce aisle at Trader Joe’s.



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