Mr. Exec

Diagnosis Night

On June 22, 2010, I received the call from my doctor, informing me that I had early-stage breast cancer.  When I hung up the phone, I called two of my best friends.  Although I had plans that evening to go to an event with Mr. Exec, my girlfriends and I decided to meet so that we could process the news together.

Mr. Exec was helping to organize the event, and I didn’t want to ruin his evening.  I sent him a text, apologizing for not being able to make it and asking him to call me afterward.  He knew me well enough to know that something was wrong and called me right away.

Mr. Exec: Tell me what’s going on.  Did you hear from the doctor?

Me: Yes.

Mr. Exec: What did she say?

Me: It’s early-stage breast cancer.

[Long pause.]

I didn’t want to tell you until later, though, since you have a big night ahead of you.

Mr. Exec: I’m glad you told me.  You know that I want to know everything that’s going on.  We’ll get through this together.

Me: I know.

Mr. Exec then asked me what the next steps were.  I told him as much as I knew at that point and asked if he could come over the following evening.

Mr. Exec: Of course.

I headed up to my apartment and proceeded to call one of my girlfriends.  The more we talked, the more I realized that I didn’t want or need to sit around with my girls that night crying.  I wasn’t dying.  I didn’t even know what my treatment plan would be yet.  It didn’t seem constructive to expend a lot of emotion over unknown variables.

I decided to meet my girlfriends the following day for lunch and go to the event as planned.  I took some time to cry and call a few other friends before I got dressed and walked over to the restaurant where the event was being held.  When I arrived at the venue, I noticed a very tall man by the doorway. 

“Oh My God!” I exclaimed to myself.  “What’s The Baron doing here?”

The Baron and I had gone to law school together back in the 1990s.  We reconnected earlier this year and went out several times.  The “relationship” was doomed from the start, though.

I found it especially surprising that The Baron was at this event since he and Mr. Exec don’t get along for reasons Mr. Exec told me on our first date.  When I walked inside, I said a quick hello to The Baron so as not to seem rude, but I kept it at that.  (What else more was there to say to him by this point?)  

I then scanned the room and noticed a lot of friends were there.  I naturally went over to Mr. Exec first.

Me [to the woman to whom Mr. Exec was talking]: Excuse me.  I don’t mean to interrupt.  I just wanted to say a quick hello to Mr. Exec.

Mr. Exec [smiling with a look of surprise]: You came?  I’m so glad!  [He gives me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.]

Mr. Exec returned to his conversation, and I ordered a soda and caught up with a girlfriend.  When Mr. Exec finished, he came over to me, gave me another hug and said:

I’m so proud of you!  It means so much to me that you came tonight, and it says so much about how you’ll approach this.  You’re not going to let this get the best of you!  [I nod my head in agreement.]  I’m going to take you home later and fuck the shit out of you!

Me [smiling]: That’s just what I wanted to hear.

Two hours later, the event was winding down, and I was starving.  The plan was to go get food with Mr. Exec, his best friend, Best Boy, and Best Boy’s date, Melanie*.  Best Boy, Melanie and I were ready to go, but Mr. Exec was still schmoozing and drinking.  I was getting a bit light-headed as I often do when I need to eat so when Mr. Exec finished talking to a colleague, I approached him.

Me [to Mr. Exec]: Can we go now?  I really need some food.

Mr. Exec: Sure.  Let me go to the restroom and then we can leave.

As Mr. Exec walked to the restroom, a woman approached him.  She was in her mid-late 40s, had a very toned body and dressed like a cougar.  I watched their interaction from across the bar. 

As they were talking, she put her arm around Mr. Exec’s waist.  He put his arm around her waist.  She placed her other hand on his chest and started playing with the buttons on his shirt.  He moved his hand from her waist to her ass.  She took her hand from his chest to his waist and put her hand underneath his shirt.  She started rubbing the small of his back.  He squeezed her ass.

I wasn’t sure what to make of any of this, but it didn’t sit well with me.  I felt like I was watching a movie and wanted a better view.  I moved my seat around so that I could look right at them.  I wasn’t particularly close so they didn’t notice that I was staring as I saw Mr. Exec grab her ass a second time.

Then a third.

Then a fourth.

And then a fifth.

By the fifth ass grab, I was done!  I walked up to Best Boy and Melanie, gave them both hugs and said:

I’m leaving.  I don’t need to sit around watching this.  Have a good night.

To be continued…

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.

Quite A Day

After my breast biopsies, I returned home to rest.  Mr. Exec called me when he was out of his meetings to check on me.

Mr. Exec: Do you need anything?

Me: I’m okay for now.  Mind coming over when you’re done with work?

Mr. Exec: Not at all.  I’ll be there in a few hours.

Later that day, when Mr. Exec arrived at my place, he did something that he hadn’t done since we first dated:

He took care of me!

I was surprised and touched.  We ordered some food and relaxed on the couch in front of the television.  After all the volatility of the past month, it felt like Mr. Exec and I were in a calm place.  We didn’t talk about the past or the future.  He wasn’t drunk, narcissistic or belligerent.  It was easy and fun to be around him.  I was reminded of our early dates and why I had been attracted to him in the first place. 

My phone vibrated with a few blog comments to a recent post that I had written, and we got on the topic of my blog.

Mr. Exec: Are you making money off of the blog yet?

Me: A little. One of the companies whose rep I met at the conference asked me to do some freelance articles for them.  And, another company has started giving me toys to review every week and offered to help get me into workshops and radio.

Mr. Exec: We should brainstorm one evening about ideas to see how you can really make some money off of this.  I’m sure that there are ways I can help you.

Me: Sure.  That sounds good.

I was thankful that I was sitting next to Mr. Exec, rather across from him, so he couldn’t see my knowing smile.  Philly Matt and I had called it that once Mr. Exec realized that I had started blogging about him, he would finally take the time to actually sit down and read my posts.

I didn’t need to ask Mr. Exec whether he enjoyed my blog.  His offer of assistance was all the answer I needed!  I knew Mr. Exec well enough to know that his idea of help would involve a 10% cut of any deal, but I found that more amusing than insulting.  I was intrigued about what he would say when we had our brainstorming session, but didn’t want to discuss business then.

After Mr. Exec and I finished watching a movie, we went into the bedroom.  I was in some pain and had to keep my bra on with ice packs over the areas that were biopsied.  But, I still wanted to have sex with Mr. Exec.

Mr. Exec and I had to be a bit creative when we had sex since I needed to stay on my back or right side, but we made it work.  And, it worked a lot that evening.

What had started out as a very rough day turned into a great night!  Sometimes, life is funny like that. *smile*

Intimate Terms

I exhaled deeply before picking up the phone to answer Mr. Exec’s call.

Me: Hey.  [Pause.]  What's up?

Mr. Exec: Hello.  How are you?

Me: Good. 

We continued to awkwardly exchange pleasantries for a few minutes before Mr. Exec told me why he was calling:

I saw your post on Facebook.

Me: Uh huh.  [I wasn’t exactly sure about which part of the update he was referring to, and I didn’t want to give him an inch.]

Mr. Exec: I’m worried about that guy harassing you in your neighborhood.  If you’d like me to arrange to have a police car there while you’re walking Nutter to make sure you’re safe, just let me know.

Me: Thanks.  I really appreciate that.  I hope I don’t need to do that, though.  I just spoke with a police officer about Creepy Apology Man.

We spoke more about that before Mr. Exec updated me on his work projects and asked about my appointments with the doctors.

Me: Well, the neurosurgeon will be speaking with my other doctors about whether I’m a good candidate for surgery.  And, I have to get two biopsies next week for the breast issues.

Mr. Exec: Is anyone going with you next week?

Me: Yes, Julie should be.

Mr. Exec: Please let me know how it goes and if you need anything.  I’ll be keeping you in my prayers and hoping that everything is okay.

Me: Thanks.

He seemed protective and caring, which I hadn't felt in a while.  When he mentioned us getting together that weekend, I said, "Sure."  As I hung up the phone, a thought crossed my mind:

There were quite a few times over the past few months when Mr. Exec hadn't be there for me or we hadn't seemed as though we were on the same page.  But, he wasn't without his endearing side.  He cared in his own way.  I just needed to figure out if that was enough for me.

Mr. Exec did come over that weekend, and there was a different vibe to our interaction.  We kissed and cuddled for an hour much like we had in the beginning, and our conversation seemed sincere since he hadn’t been drinking. 

Not surprisingly, the sex was amazing and intense. Thankfully, though, it was also uncharacteristically loving.

The way he looked me in the eyes and said that I would always be his;

The way he held me so close as he kissed me; and

The way he whispered that he wanted me to be okay because I had been through so much health stuff already and he didn't want me to be in any more pain.

Mr. Exec was a character and I knew that his selfish and narcissistic ways would rear their ugly heads again.  But, I found myself hoping that the kind Mr. Exec would stay around for a while before that happened.

While he was over, neither of us brought up our previous discussion about my blogging about our time together.  It seemed that we were past that without any further conversation.

It was the perfect night.  I liked that he referred to "us" as a couple and talked about things we would do together over the summer.  I was elated…up until the point when he brought up the "terms" of our relationship.

To be continued…

PS I’m writing this post while receiving my second round of chemotherapy.  I might not be able to promptly reply to your Tweets, comments and updates, but please know how much your support, thoughts and prayers mean to me! xoxo

The Call

I found myself surprisingly comfortable with Mr. Exec.  We were benefits without friendship – nothing more and nothing less.  However, my comfort was replaced by nostalgia, as I wrote a post about when we first dated.  A lot had changed between March and June, and I wondered:

Why were Mr. Exec, the Gentleman, and Mr. Exec, the Great Lay, mutually exclusive?

I texted Mr. Exec to let him know that I was smiling, writing about the day we played hooky together back in March.

Mr. Exec: I hope that you’re keeping things general and not writing a lot of detail.

Me: Umm…have you read my blog ;)?

Mr. Exec: You know I’m a private person, and I don’t want our time together to be blogged about.

Me: I can’t promise that.  I agreed to keep out what we had discussed, but this is what I do.  Can we talk about this in person?

He didn’t reply, but called me 30 minutes later.  By that point, it was 12:30am, and I was exhausted.

Me: I definitely think we need to talk about this, but it’s late and I’m tired.  Can we table this until we see each other next?

Mr. Exec [without answering my question]: I support what you’re doing, but I need to know what you’ve written about me.

Me: So…you haven’t read any of my blog?

Mr. Exec: No, I haven’t.

Me [pausing]: K.  I’m known for including a lot of detail so I write about everything – from how we met to what we do on our dates.  But, I’ve never used your name or talked about what you do professionally or anything like that.

Mr. Exec: Have you talked about what I look like?

Me: Yes.

Mr. Exec: What did you say?

Me: I wrote that post a month or so ago, but I think I said that you’re very attractive, tall and light-skinned.

Mr. Exec: Did you say that I have green eyes?

Me: I believe so.

Mr. Exec: Everyone’s going to know it’s me!  Who else do you know in DC who is a light-skinned black man our age with green eyes?

Me: Seriously?  There are a lot of guys in this city that match that description. 

Mr. Exec: Not guys who are making something of themselves!

“Wow,” I thought to myself.  “He is such a narcissist!”  I was actually having lunch the following day with a successful, light-skinned friend who happens to have green eyes.  But, apparently, Mr. Exec is the only one in the entire Metro DC area!

Me: I disagree with you on that one.  But, this isn't really a conversation to have over the phone.

Mr. Exec: You can’t tell me when to talk.  If I have something to say, I say it!

Me: It’s 1 in the morning.  Do you really think that now is the best time for this discussion?

Mr. Exec apparently did think it was the best time for this conversation, as he spent another 30 minutes talking about no one tells him to be quiet and how he called me at 12:30am, not 1am.  Those comments were interspersed with lines about how he thinks my blog is great, but that I shouldn’t blog about him.

I was drained and muted the phone.  For the first time since I had met Mr. Exec last October, I shed tears over him. 

Mr. Exec: Are you listening to me?

Me: Yes, I am.  I just got quiet because this hurts a lot.  I didn’t want to get into this over the phone, and I asked you if it was possible to have this conversation later when we’re in person, but you said, “No.” 


When we met, I told you about my blog and gave you the link.  When we reconnected this year, you came to my Blog Party.  You knew what I was doing, and you acted like you supported me!  Now, you seem to have a problem when it’s about you.  Very few people know we’re together so no one who doesn’t know us well is going to make the connection. 


Plus, this is more than a hobby. This is turning into a business for me!  You knew that!  I would never ask you to change what you’re doing professionally so I don’t take it kindly to you doing that to me!

Mr. Exec and I went back and forth for another 20 minutes or so, but it was clear that we were at an impasse.  He didn’t want me blogging about him, and I didn’t know if it was worth changing my style for a great lay.  When we hung up the phone, I honestly didn’t know if I would see him again.

Even more to the story

Mr. Exec and I had dated for a month. And then, we stopped talking to each other for a month. Now, Mr. Exec was back in my bed, referring to us a couple and telling me not to blog about our relationship. I didn't know what shocked me more!

Me: I'm sorry I can't promise not to blog about you. That's what I do.

Mr. Exec: I'm a very private person, and I need to know that what I say and do around you won't show up in your blog.

Me: I respect that you are a private person, but have you ever actually read my blog?

Mr. Exec: No.

Me: I'm a storyteller. I'm all about the details. You're asking me to change what I do right at the point when my blog might be turning into something bigger? You went to my Blog Party. You knew what I was doing!

Mr. Exec: And, I'm happy for you. But, I just don't want you writing about me.

Me: But, you want to date me and be in my bed? Writing about that stuff is what I do!

We spoke more about my blog and my readers, and then Mr. Exec asked me to leave a specific matter out of the blog.

Me: I'm fine with leaving that out.

Mr. Exec: Good. But, I don't want stuff that happens in our bed to be a topic for your blog. That's private…between us.

Me: What's with the 'our bed' talk? So, we're doing this? We're really getting back together and going to be a couple?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

Me [Long Pause]: Then, I might be willing to write about our bedroom activities without as much detail as I normally do. I'm not sure. I'll need to see how things with us go and how it works to change my style a bit. I'll definitely leave out what we discussed, though. I get that. And, I can also send you posts before I put them up so you can see what I wrote. Does that sound okay for now and then we can talk more about this when I get closer to blogging about our earlier dates?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

We kissed again, and it felt different. We always had passion together, but now, it felt sweeter and more solid.

He moved down the bed so that his head was between my legs and starting going down on me.

Mr. Exec [coming up for air]: Did you miss this?

Me: Definitely. You know I love when you do that, baby!

Twenty minutes and several orgasms later, it was my turn to reciprocate. In between kisses and oral, Mr. Exec said:

I hated that you said I wasn't there for you.

Me: But, you weren't.

Mr. Exec: I never want to be that guy with anyone, especially you.

Me: I know you don't. And, I know that you won't be like that again.

Mr. Exec: You made me so mad when you said that I was there for my friends, but not for you.

Me: I know I did. But, I know that's not how you are fundamentally. If I thought that was who you were, you wouldn't be in my bed right now.

Mr. Exec: I'm always there for the people I care about! Always!

Me: I know. You weren't for me that one time, and I know that it will never happen again.

Mr. Exec: It won't.

The topic changed to upcoming events, and he asked:

How are you going to be at events with all these women approaching me?

Me: Will they know that we're a couple?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

Me: Then, I'll be fine. As long as we're on the same page and they know that we're together, I won't freak out or need to be all up on you. I'd only get that way if they didn't know about us.

Mr. Exec: You know if I'm flirting with older women that it's just business. I'll never lie to you and I'll never let you down.

Me: Yes, baby, I know. Business is just business. And, I will always support you professionally. We both have very expensive tastes! [We laugh.] Are you going to be fine with me flirting with other guys?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

Me: That's good because it's not like I'm a wallflower. So…we're doing this? We're going public as a couple? You're okay letting your many fans know that we're together?

Mr. Exec: Yes.

He kissed me, and then we let the discussions about the relationship and blog go. I hadn't had sex with anyone since "Buckeyes" Boy because I wasn't ready to do so. Until now.

(Much) more to the story

As I joined Mr. Exec on the couch, we caught up about work and life. (Yes, we had seen each other a few days ago at Ceiba, but we didn’t exactly have the chance to have a heart-to-heart at the bar.)

Me: I noticed on Facebook that you had some meetings at USAID. What’s going on with them?

Mr. Exec told me about a project that he was trying to get involved in. If it worked out as he was hoping it would, he’d be doing a lot of traveling.

Me: That’s great! Where to?

Mr. Exec: Well, first I’d be heading to Hong Kong and then several countries in South America. The details are still be finalized, but if we come to an agreement, I’d like to write you into the deal for South America.

Me: What do you mean?

Mr. Exec: You. Me. South America. [He names several South American countries like he’s in a Geography class. I realize that he’s rather buzzed, but I’m intrigued and want to hear more.]

Me [laughing out loud]: Okay. What exactly would we be doing there, and why would you want me there with you?

Mr. Exec then described the work that I had done as an attorney, my ongoing commitment to the causes I care about, and what I would be able to add to this specific project. I honestly didn’t realize that he knew me and my background as well as he did. I was impressed and flattered.

Me: Thanks. That would definitely be something that I’m interested in. Would it be one long trip or four small ones?

Mr. Exec: Four small ones.

Me [pausing]: I’d have to check with my doctors, but that might be doable. Especially if the trips would be spread out. [Traveling often requires me to get IVs so it’s not something that I do often anymore for the fun of it.]

Mr. Exec: How is everything going health-wise?

Me: Things have been pretty good, but I have to see my neurosurgeon since some of that stuff is getting worse. I also found a lump.

Mr. Exec [interrupting out of concern]: In your breast?

Me: Yes. I’ve had several lumps before so it’s not a big deal, but my doctors usually take them out. If everything with my health is okay, then I’d love to get involved in the project. [This occurred back in late May, and as many of you know, it wasn’t benign.]

Mr. Exec: Well, let me know what the doctors say. I’ll be praying that everything is okay.

He seemed protective of me, and I found myself liking that.

Me: Since it’s pretty late, want to get some sleep?

Mr. Exec followed me into the bedroom. I went into the bathroom to change into a shirt and shorts. When I got into bed, my dog, Nutter, would not move from in between Mr. Exec and me. It was like she knew what had happened in the past and was holding a grudge against him.

Me: Nutter is giving you no love, huh? [We laugh.] Goodnight.

Mr. Exec: Turn around and give me a goodnight kiss. [I turn around to give him the quickest kiss possible, and roll back over on my side.] No, I want a real goodnight kiss.

I turned over and really kissed him. His kiss was as good as I remembered with just the right amount of tongue and intensity. We talked between kisses:

Mr. Exec: I missed you.

Me: That’s nice to hear.

Mr. Exec: Did you miss me?

Me: No.

Mr. Exec: I know you missed me.

Me: I didn’t.

Mr. Exec: Yes, you did. It’s okay to admit it.

Me: Well…maybe a little. [I smile.]

Mr. Exec: I know you did.

Me: You’re here, aren’t you? You wouldn’t be if I didn’t miss you at all.

I rolled over so that I was on top of him, as we continued to make out. I took off my shirt and my bra, as he said:

What happens in our bed stays in our bed. Our relationship is special and private. It is not to be shared with your readers, even though you might think that they deserve to know. They don’t.

Whoaaaaa! Our bed? Our relationship? Where did that come from? And, I wasn’t supposed to blog about it! Was he kidding? I had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.

To be continued…

A night to remember – Part II

What do you get when you mix one City Girl, one Best Boy and his best friend and a guy that I dated for a month, Mr. Exec, at the same bar? Read on…

Best Boy arrived at Ceiba, and our party expanded to four. The jokes, drinks and good conversation kept flowing. Twenty minutes later, Mr. Exec's friend, Melinda, headed off to Chinatown to meet her cousin so Best Boy took her seat.

The three of us ordered food, and when the meals came, both Mr. Exec and Best Boy shared their dishes with me. It felt like I was on a date…with both of them! But, somewhat surprisingly, it wasn't weird. It felt completely natural!

Mr. Exec was cocky and controlling, but in a way that I found sexy. (I do have a type!) Best Boy had a calm and kind presence that drew in everyone around him, including me. As I looked from one to the other, I thought to myself that if you combined these two guys, you would have the perfect man! (If only it could be that simple, right?)

As I nibbled on my fish tacos, I couldn't resist stirring the pot a little.

Me: So…have you guys ever had a threesome?

Best Boy didn't know how much of a racy side I had so he blushed and didn't say a word. Mr. Exec smiled a mischievous grin and tilted his head to give Best Boy the opportunity to respond. Best Boy looked hesitant to speak.

Me [to Best Boy]: It's not that big a deal. But, if you don't tell me, Mr. Exec will. [I giggle.]

Best Boy [after a lengthy pause]: Yes.

Me: DP [Double Penetration]? Pig roast [in which a girl is giving a blow job to one guy, while the other has sex with her doggy-style]?

Best Boy: Yes.

Me: Both?

Best Boy: Yes.

Me [smiling]: Interesting.

My friend, Autumn, was in the neighborhood so she stopped by Ceiba for a drink. The laughter, fun and pig roast references continued. I made some comment that wasn't related to anything sexual, but ended with the word, "back." Autumn responded with a smile and giggle.

Best Boy looked a bit confused since he didn't realize how easy it was for us to turn almost anything into a double entendre. Part of what made Best Boy so endearing was the fact that he seemed sweeter and shier than Mr. Exec. Best Boy was clearly the better man, but I couldn't deny the fact that Mr. Exec possessed something intangible that I found incredibly sexy. I had thought about the possibility that Mr. Exec and I could be friends, but now, I wasn't sure what I was feeling or what I wanted.

Melinda, her cousins and several friends came back to the bar. As there were now eight of us in the group, there were several different conversations going on at once. It also gave me some time to talk to each person one-on-one. Mr. Exec asked about my health, indicating that he hoped that I had been feeling better. Best Boy offered to drive me home, apologizing for the fact that I had been caught in the rain on my trip to Ceiba. And, Autumn whispered to me that she thought that both Mr. Exec and Best Boy liked me.

Me [to Autumn]: Really?!? You think so?

Autumn [nodding]: Totally.

An hour later, the other girls had left, and it was just me Best Boy and Mr. Exec again. We had one last drink before asking for the check. Best Boy and I both pulled out our credit cards, but Mr. Exec insisted on paying for the bill. It felt like a bit of a pissing contest, and it shouldn't shock anyone that Mr. Exec won. Best Boy and I thanked him, and we headed out of the restaurant.

Mr. Exec's car was right out front. He said goodbye to Best Boy first, and then I went to hug him goodbye.

Mr. Exec: May I give you a ride home?

Me: Umm…Best Boy already offered to.

Mr. Exec: Oh. He did? [Turns to face Best Boy.] You're giving her a ride home? [Best Boy nods. Awkward pause.]

Have a good night then.

Me: Thanks.

Best Boy drove me home and kissed me at the door. I kissed back for a minute, but then I stopped. He was handsome and nice, but I didn't know if I felt a spark with him.

Me: Thanks for a fun night!

Best Boy: Well, I would like to take you out to dinner just the two of us one night.

Me [smiling]: I'd like that. Will you text me to let me know that you got home okay?

Best Boy: Of course. Good night.

Best Boy turned and walked toward his car. I walked inside my building. Before I had even gotten to the elevator, I sent a text to Mr. Exec.

A night to remember

Was I being punked?

While in the cab en route to meet Best Boy at Ceiba, he called to inform me that his best friend and the guy that I had dated for a month, Mr. Exec, was at the bar…at Ceiba!

What are the odds of that? Who else does this kind of stuff happen to?

I exhaled and ran through the pros and cons to myself before telling Best Boy:

That’s not a problem for me. Is it a problem for you?

[I restrained myself from asking if Best Boy and Mr. Exec had planned this. I also held back from letting Best Boy know that I didn’t exactly care to be at a bar with the two of them. I didn’t want to sound like I had any unresolved feelings for Mr. Exec when I didn’t.]

Me: Should I still have the cab drop me off at Ceiba?

[We had vacillated between meeting at Oya or Ceiba. I figured that he would suggest we now meet at Oya instead. But, he surprisingly didn’t.]

Best Boy: Yes, if you’re fine being around Mr. Exec…

Me: Of course I am.

[What I really wanted to say: Are you fucking kidding me? This is going to be really awkward! When last Mr. Exec and I talked, I told him off for not being there for me after my concussion.]

Best Boy: Good. I’m just looking to relax and have some drinks without any drama.

Me: That works for me. And, there shouldn’t be any drama.

As I hung up the telephone, I realized that there would only be drama if I brought it to the table — or the bar, as the case might be. And, I didn’t need to do that. Mr. Exec and I were never serious. We had our problems, but I had never shed a tear over him and had said my piece. I was bound to run into Mr. Exec around DC again sooner or later since my world and this city are smaller than small. And, if Best Boy and I hit it off, I didn’t want us to have to sneak around Mr. Exec’s back. Why did this have to be a big deal then?

I walked through Ceiba’s glass doors, noticing Mr. Exec and his friend, Melinda, at the bar. I had met Melinda when Mr. Exec brought her to my Blog Party, and she’s a total sweetheart. I exhaled and felt a bit better. I reminded myself that I could do this without being affected. After heading to the bathroom to try to dry off from the effects of the downpour, I went over to the bar.

Me: Hi! Great to see you both! How are you?

Mr. Exec smiled, although his eyes conveyed a sense of surprise at seeing me. We exchanged pleasantries, and Mr. Exec moved to the chair to his left. I had expected him to let Melinda sit in the middle, but he didn’t, kindly pulling out the chair between him and Melinda for me. I thanked him and commented:

So…I guess Best Boy should be joining us soon, too.

Mr. Exec: I just talked to him and he’s on his way.

Me: I know. He asked me to meet him here for drinks.

Mr. Exec: Oh! [Pause.] He invited you here?

Me: Yeah. Just to grab a drink. Small town, huh? [We laugh with just a touch of discomfort.]

I sat down and for the next 30 minutes, Mr. Exec, Melinda and I had a really nice conversation. There wasn’t any awkwardness, and there was a lot of laughter. I was reminded of how easy it had been to talk to Mr. Exec on our first date.

As I turned my head to face Mr. Exec, I couldn’t help but be drawn in to his blue-green eyes. His personality was magnetic, but I didn’t look at him in the same way that I had when we were dating a mere six weeks ago. I looked at him in a new light now, and I wondered if it would be possible for us to be friends.

I also wondered how the evening would change when Best Boy arrived. I guess I would find that out soon enough.

To be continued…

A new chapter…maybe

Improv Boy was out of the picture, and I found my lineup in May to be rather thin. I needed to remedy that quickly! When Best Boy texted me about meeting for drinks on Friday night, I happily said yes.

"Who's Best Boy?" you might be wondering.

Umm…Best Boy is Mr. Exec's best friend. Yeah. Now, friends and family members of ex-boyfriends are typically off-limits, but I didn't really consider Mr. Exec an ex-boyfriend. I'm sensing your skepticism through my computer screen so let me build my case:

Mr. Exec and I hadn't slept together. We had only gone out a handful of times. We didn't form an emotional connection and weren't friends. And, back in early April, Mr. Exec was the guy who failed to follow through on his offer to help me out after my concussion. Given all of those things, I felt like the "Friends and Family Rule" didn't apply in this instance so I made plans to go to Happy Hour with Best Boy.

I had met Best Boy last year at the same charity event where I had met Mr. Exec. Best Boy is 6'4" and light skinned with full lips and a muscular body that's not too thick. He's definitely good-looking, but his personality is what makes him stand out in a crowd.

"Why is that?" you might be asking.

Well, Best Boy has a laid-back attitude and is friendly to everyone he meets. He smiles more than any guy I know, and if there's a problem in the room, he tries to calmly and peacefully resolve it in a way that makes those around him happy. Like Mr. Exec, he's also an entrepreneur, but he approaches his business endeavors without a sense of cockiness or entitlement. While Mr. Exec is a belligerent bull in a china shop, Best Boy favors making connections with others and rolling with things.

Best Boy is also the master of Facebook Pokes. (Yes, you read that correctly.) When most guys poke me on Facebook, I remove the notification from my homepage without responding. But, with Best Boy, his incessant poking became a fun game. Our pokes led to us emailing on Facebook, which then led to an exchange of text messages. (He was one of the guys who was texting me while I was at the baseball game with Improv Boy.)

Best Boy asked me out for drinks, and we decided to meet at the bar at Ceiba. (I love that restaurant!)

Best Boy and I originally planned to meet at 7pm. But, I asked if we could move drinks to 8pm so that I could grab a power nap. He replied that he wanted me to feel rested and relaxed so 8pm was perfect.

As I was getting ready, I was texting with my friend, Autumn. I wondered if this was a date or a get-together between friends. It felt more like a date since he asked me out on a Friday night. But, I hadn't seen Best Boy in seven months so it might just have been a Happy Hour between friends.

Me to Autumn [knowing what a control freak Mr. Exec is]: I wonder if Mr. Exec knows we're going out. Or, if he orchestrated this for Best Boy to try to talk to me? Or, if he's going to show up?

Autumn: I don't know. I doubt it, though.

Me: Yeah, that would just be unnecessary drama. I'm going to have fun whatever happens, though.

As I was heading out the door, I noticed that it was raining and grabbed a small umbrella. When I got outside, though, I realized that it was pouring! It was that type of torrential rain that sprays sideways so there was no way for me not to get drenched. I usually like to walk to Ceiba, but when I found an empty cab, I nabbed it as quickly as I could.

When I got inside the cab, I noticed just how wet I was. The bottom of my jeans was soaked, and the back of my hair was drenched so that 80% of my hair looked perfect and 20% hung wet and shapeless. I just exhaled and laughed to myself. What could I do?

My phone vibrated with a call from Best Boy as I started to drip dry. Best Boy was just leaving his office and worried that he might be late given the storm.

Me: No problem. You were the one who was cool when I asked to meet later so whenever you get there is perfect. Just drive safely. It's nasty outside.

Best Boy: I know. It looks like Armageddon. [We laugh.] So, are you at Ceiba yet?

Me: No, I'm in a cab on H.

Best Boy: So…I just got off the phone with Mr. Exec.

Me: Uh…huh.

Best Boy: I'm not sure if this matters, but he's at the bar.

Me: At Ceiba?

Best Boy: Yes.

Me: He's there…now?!?

Best Boy: Yes. Is that going to be a problem?

Was I being punked?

To be continued…

Changing my ways

My birthday was behind me. Philly Matt had gone back home. Mr. Exec was trying to reach out, but after he had failed to be there for me following my concussion, my interest in him had waned.

April 2010 brought some unexpected intrigue into my life, though, when I met Dutch Boy at an embassy event. He wasn’t my normal type. Picture a nice-looking white guy, 5’11” with a very lean build. Dutch Boy is a scientist, doing a fellowship at the National Institutes of Health. He loved sports and writing so we had some shared interests, but that normally wouldn’t be enough to pique my interest.

What did attract me to Dutch Boy then? He oozed sex. He wasn’t particularly sexy, and yet, he had that indefinable magnetism. I commented as much to my girlfriend in the ladies’ room, and she heartily concurred. I tried not to monopolize Dutch Boy’s time at the event, but I wanted to converse with him as much as I could.

After talking to Dutch Boy for 30 minutes, I learned two unfortunate things:

Dutch Boy was returning to Amsterdam in a month…

And he had a girlfriend back home.

We exchanged information and contacted each other that weekend, keeping all of our correspondence casual. Dutch Boy and I alluded in our emails to seeing each other again – without throwing out a time or place. I wanted to get to know him better, but I also didn’t want to complicate my life. He was moving back home, and he had an old girlfriend there. (For once, I made the right call! For once!)

Three days later, I sat down to meditate. When I was done meditating, I came out of the session with one strong thought in my head:

I’m supposed to contact Improv Boy and go out with him.

“Improv Boy?!?” I asked myself with a baffled expression on my face.

What was my subconscious trying to tell me? I didn’t want to go out with Improv Boy last month, which is why I stopped corresponding with him. He wasn’t my type at all, but maybe it was time to think out of the box? It’s not like dating my type had been working out well for me.

I decided to send Improv Boy an email. I figured that I would answer the questions that he had asked me in his last email and invite him out to a small, informal Happy Hour. (He had repeatedly asked me out on dates in March, but I felt like that type of one-on-one activity was premature. A small get-together seemed like a better way to gauge if I wanted to go out with him.) I wrote:

Hi Improv Boy,

I know…it’s been a while. A lot has been going on with me (out-of-town, concussion, birthday and speech at an event), but that doesn’t excuse me from not being in touch.

How are you? I hope that you are doing well!

I’m an attorney, but I took time off to finish another degree. My thesis got approved in February, and now I’m pursuing some freelance writing. I miss my clients, but I’m keeping all options open.

You’ll have to tell me more about your possible new venture in person!

A few friends and I are going to watch the Caps game on Friday at Clyde’s. Any interest in joining us?

:), City Girl

The following morning, I heard from Improv Boy. He wrote about last night’s hockey game and indicated that he was free to come to the Happy Hour on Friday night. He also extended appropriate congratulations for my thesis approval and concern about my concussion.

We emailed each other once a day for the rest of the week. In one correspondence, he inquired as to my thesis topic. I gave a basic one-line response regarding my esoteric topic and was surprised when Improv Boy came back with follow-up questions. It took me a few minutes to realize that he had done some online research to learn more about the issue, which I found endearing.

I mentioned that to my friend, Julie, and said:

Improv Boy seems really nice, but I’m not sure if I’m attracted to him. He’s really funny, too…as one would hope since he’s a comedian. Maybe if I don’t like him, Autumn might?

Julie: You invited a guy to Happy Hour to fix him up with your friend?

Me [laughing]: Well, who knows? I’m trying not to over-think things like I normally do.

Happy Hour with Improv Boy and my friends was set. And, the following night, I would be at another embassy event — with Dutch Boy.

This month was looking up!