Pillow Talk

This following happened several weeks ago...aka, prior to Valentine's Day.

I'm in a pool of bachelorettes for a matchmaking service. This is separate from the It's Just Lunch dates. The woman who owns the matchmaking service works for the men. They pay her about $3K to essentially find them a mate. So I'm in her pool of potentials 'mates.'

She'd been trying for weeks to set me up with Jon. Between my travel schedule and his work schedule, we were having issues meeting up for our first date, when it finally dawned on her that he owns a business at the airport (my second home), so why don't we meet up there? Perfect! I was landing at 3PM on Wednesday of that week. 'He'll meet you at your gate,' Miss Matchmaker said.

My flight home was a short one...a little over an hour. Apparently I was quite tired that day because I fell asleep before the wheels even left the ground and slept so hard that I had to actually lift up the window shade to see if we had landed. In a complete daze, I tried to wake myself up knowing that Prince Charming Potential was going to be right there at the gate. I was sooo out of it, though, still completely in la-la, dreamland. I checked myself out in my compact mirror and while I was relieved not to have any makeup under my eyes (god bless smudge proof mascara), I did have very prominent pillow marks engraved in my face. If anyone has an instant cure for these, please let me know, because I had no idea how to get rid of them in a pinch.

So I walk off the plane and instantly spot Jon. I walk up to him, flash as peppy of a smile as I can, and introduce myself. He hugs and kisses, yes, kisses me on the lips. I mean it was only a little peck, but still, kinda forward! And it only added to sleep-induced confusion, but he took my bag for me and handed me a gift certificate to his store. 'Wow, this is great,' I thought. I liked the personal concierge service.

I own up to my hard core snooze...difficult to deny with pillow marks illuminating my face and he says, 'Ya, you look a little tired.' Well, that's fabulous, I thought. Anyhoo...I politely excused myself to the ladies' room, freshened up, and then we made our way to the main terminal for some tea.

It was a pleasant date and I'll go out with him again. Next time, I'll be sure that it's not approximately 2.3 minutes after I wake up!

A picture speaks a thousand words...

While I usually do not shy away from details, I'm going to be a bit aloof on this post. I'll just say that I had one of the best, if not THE best Valentine's Days ever. The photo you see is what greeted me when I arrived at my date's house on Saturday night. He cooked dinner for me and had the items you see, including a stuffed bear holding a heart that said, 'Be Mine,' a lit candle, cherry-flavored Hershey kisses, a really, really sweet card, and a dozen long stem, de-thorned, red roses, sitting on the already set dining room table. Yesssss, it was very, very sweet and nice. I'll call him my Valentine any day.

The morning after....

So I wake up the morning after the vomiting at about 7:30. I'm laying in bed with my hands on my forehead, both easing the pain of the slight headache I have and just cringing in embarrassment about what had happened the night before. I'm rehearsing the contrite voicemail I'm going to leave him sometime soon.

As I'm laying there my door bell buzzes and I immediately blame the FedEx man for disturbing me so early. There's no way I'm getting up. He rings the bell AGAIN. I'm completely annoyed at this point, so I get up and look out the window. No FedEx truck, no UPS truck either. Maybe one of my neighbors is locked out. So I push the button to talk and in a highly irritated voice I ask, 'Who is it??!!' A male voice responds, '31derful, it's Indiana.' OMG!!! What is he doing here??? Did he sleep in his car?? He'd had quite a few adult beverages too. And wasn't it enough that he heard me puke? Now he has to see me with mascara smeared under my eyes, unbrushed teeth, and wearing boxers and a ratty (but oh-so comfortable) tank top? This was only getting worse.

Well, I let him in and he starts saying something, but I shush him and say, 'Gimme a sec, K?' I make a quick dash to do a 30 second clean-up and get dressed effort and walk back out in the living room.

'I didn't come over to stay. I shouldn't have left last night,' he says.

'Oh no,' I say, 'You definitely should have left last night.'

'No, I left and then I was really worried about you. What if you got back in bed, got sick again in your sleep, and choked?! I tried to call your phone, but it was off, so...I didn't come over to stay, I just needed to make sure you were all right.'

Wow, seriously? How sweet is that? Indiana scored some huge points. He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and true to his word, he left shortly after. Then he sent me a friend request on Facebook later that morning. I guess he and I both survived my too-much-to-drink-debacle. Phew, that was a close one!