Soft Life, Hard Lessons: Houston, We Have a Boyfriend!
The Evergreen Echo
I officially canned the "dating for fun" experiment. I had to stop playing myself in these streets.
It is infinitely better to focus on one man who actually knows what he wants than to entertain a roster of four would-be hopefuls offering nothing save for endless talking stages, maybes, and low-effort excuses. Even the guy I mentioned last month—the one I shared those passionate kisses with—proved to be another dead end. When he failed to make quality time, I didn't even mourn that chemistry fading away. After an honest sit-down with myself, I deleted those text threads and closed those portals to nowhere to clear the space for real intention.
Navigating a single, focused connection comes with its own risks, but for the first time in a long time, the risk is worth it. Houston, we have a boyfriend!
The End of the Roster
A few weeks ago, a mutual friend played matchmaker. It all started with a simple sharing of photos and a few text exchanges. Who knew it would blossom into what it is now?
Because she brought us together, she is actively keeping both of us on our toes with her official directive: "Don't embarrass me!" He and I have had separate, private check-ins with her, asking, ‘Is he who he says he is?’ and ‘Is she the real deal?’ Every single time, her answer has been a resounding “Yes!” She keeps reminding us both that after everything we've been through, we deserve to be happy.
My new man is five years younger than me, but he certainly doesn't make me feel older. He loves my unique energy. Growing up in Seattle raised on grunge, rocker culture, and heavy metal, I’m not the typical Black girl by culture standpoint. He jokes that I’m a Black woman with a white girl screaming to get out.
The banter between us is top tier. One day he teased me, "I bet you go to sleep listening to Travis Kelce's fiancée's music." Before I could even answer, his son chimed in from the background, "Dad, you mean Taylor Swift! Is she a Swiftie?!" I hollered.
He had a running joke asking what number he was on my roster—10, 19, 34? I looked at him and said, "Sir, the roster is nonexistent because none of those men were offering or delivering what you are." He looked right at me and asked the question that made my edges instantly grow back: "I know you've been married twice, but what would it take for this to be your LAST, long-term, sustainable marriage?" He wanted me to say the words ‘I want you too.’
Real Intention in the Midst of Reality
He is intentional in every sense of the word. Because of his son's baseball season, he couldn't fly to Seattle first, so he invited me out to his town, and he is even planning a bonding activity for the three of us.
Is it perfect? No. Between long distance, sleep deprivation, fresh grief, and fragmented moments, there are times when he falls asleep on the phone or his battery dies. We don't talk every waking moment, but his actions consistently prove we are actually going somewhere, because he knows where he's going.
Now, we watch each other cook on FaceTime, and his dad popped on screen to ask me to bring a bottle of Johnny's Dock seasoning when I come to town. We debate who makes the best dirty rice or smothered turkey wings, argue over Kobe vs. LeBron, and he teaches me about sports I never cared to know before.
Nearly every time he calls, he plays "Are You Even Real" by Teddy Swims and Giveon—which is now his official ringtone on my phone. Giveon's verse is his anthem for us: "You're beautiful, spiritual... If it's all a dream, I don't wanna wake up."
The Evergreen Echo
Holding Space for Grief and Joy
Behind his strength is a tender reality: he lost his young daughter suddenly last year. As a parent, I know that loss is a devastation beyond words. His grief is still very fresh. I am learning to stand in solidarity with him as a partner. Not as an emotional prosthetic to fix his pain, but as a safe place where grief and joy can coexist.
This man looks like he smells good right through the phone screen. If he smells as good as he looks when I get off that plane, I will have my head buried in his chest, soaking in that good YSL (Yves Saint Laurent).
Today begins a 40-day countdown until our real-life rom-com airport montage. He planned the entire arrival himself complete with flowers, theme music, a super hug, and a week-long itinerary. I’m looking forward to the mundane: sitting on the couch, holding hands, and breathing his air. My Hug Barometer will tell me the rest, but for now, my hands are steady, my heart is open, and my standard is firmly set.
