The masculine presence

If you scroll down, you’ll see a picture of a sunset. I find this to be very fitting for two reasons:

1. The person I’m writing about is no longer in my life (as of yesterday), so you could say the sun has set on our relationship. 

2. I also find it fitting because we would often watch the sunsets together at the beach. I joked once that it was the only time we could actually get along.

Ironically, he’s the one that encouraged me to get a little more personal in my writing. He said when he’s searching through information online that it’s the writer’s personal experience that sets them apart.

So, here goes. ..

He was nine years older than me, and recently moved to Florida from Denver. Admittedly, we met during a lot of transition (for both of us), so it was kindve a mess in many ways.

There were some really good times though- which is what will keep you there, despite the challenges.

Our first date was a walk on the beach in August. He was spending a few nights in Destin on his way to Tallahassee to move his son into college.

We talked for almost five hours, but probably only walked about thirty feet. It took us twenty minutes just to walk down the stairs, because we kept asking each other questions. He said he liked my earrings and the color of my eyes. 

My hair and my sundress were both way too short- and the wind blew both in what I’d liked to think was a “Marilyn Monroe” way, but prob just resulted in my looking fuzzy (southern humidity) and disheveled.

When we slipped our shoes off to walk in the sand, I was excited to discover I’d achieved what I call “missionary feet,” which is very tan skin with pale toenails. I don’t know why I’ve always called it this, but it’s just seems like what a missionary’s feet would look like.

As someone who did not grow up in the Bible Belt, he seemed fascinated by this concept. I would later learn that he had never even spoken at length with someone with a Southern accent before, so this was all new.

He works remotely in “big tech” as a programmer, and said that there are rarely Southern accents in that field- and that if people do have one, they try to neutralize it to be viewed as more credible or professional or whatever.

All I have to say is, they’re missing out 😄

At some point, a random stranger gave us a high five for an unknown reason. Then there was a group of people that almost trampled us looking for sand crabs, or seashells or something; I’m not sure. ..

We talked about all kinds of things, from our work, our families, thoughts on the recent pandemic and how it affected us- and on the differences between the FL panhandle and other places we’d visited or lived.

At one point, we tried to find the moon. It seemed to suddenly appear the second we spoke of it, almost like it had been summoned.

I told him I’d heard it was an inorganic entity and that women do not need to sync their cycles to it, because it was some kindve occult ritual. When the moon heard this, he knew he’d been found out, and he went away in shame!

It was literally as if the world stopped for us, and we had command of all of its features.

We were fully present with each other, and the time flew as a result. Before we knew it, it was late, and we parted ways. From what I remember we didn’t make plans to see each other again. We just decided to see what happens.

I’m realizing this story is longer than I thought, and is starting to read like a Nicholas Sparks novel lol. ..

That was not my intention, but it’s actually kindve fun, and a little cathartic. ..I usually only write about things once I’ve moved through them, but this one is proving to be quite experiential.

I feel this is a good stopping point, but check back soon for part 2.