I had a little crush on Improv Boy, and it felt good. We were in that blissful early phase of a relationship. I couldn't help but smile when I was with him, and I couldn't stop thinking about him when we were apart.
As much as we were seeing each other, I still wanted to wait to have sex with him. (When I have a crush on a guy, I can tend to rush into the physical side of the relationship. I didn't want to do that this time.) I suggested that we wait until a month after our first one-on-one date. I even sent him a Google Invite for May 29th with the event title: When the magic will happen. I hoped that would reaffirm my point in a way that was at least somewhat light and endearing.
He laughed at the invite, but commented that we wouldn't still be together if we didn't have sex before then. I reiterated my desire for us to get tested before we decided to have sex, and thankfully, he didn't seem averse to that. I figured that I would broach that matter again in two weeks. Maybe I didn't need to wait the whole month, right?
When I awoke Tuesday morning, I decided that I would actually cook dinner for Improv Boy that evening. I selected an easy menu of Chicken Parmigiana with Angel Hair and bought all the ingredients, a bottle of wine and cupcakes for dessert. I also had to purchase a casserole dish. I really don't cook often!
I texted Improv Boy to say that I would be cooking that evening, joking that I would be making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As the day progressed, I got a migraine that would not go away. That normally wouldn't be a problem, but for the fact that my migraine medicine is so strong that I can only take it twice a week. Unfortunately, I had to hold out for at least another 24 hours before my next dose.
I wanted to give Improv Boy a heads up that I might not be feeling my best so I sent him a text:
Me: 3rd migraine in 5 days. But, definitely, definitely, definitely want to see you, cook for you and cook with you ;).
Improv Boy: I'm sorry for your pain, but I like the sound of all that kitchen activity. Where are you?
Me: My couch
[I was able to relax a bit since I had already started the preparation. All that was left to do was put the dish in the oven and boil the pasta when he arrived.]
Improv Boy: Probably the best place for you to be with a migraine. Do you need anything?
Me: I'm good — thanks! And, there might be a few things you can do for me after wine, pb&j, and dessert ;).
Improv Boy: I hope that your head feels better by dinner. What kind of wine do you prefer with your pb&j?
For me it depends on the varietal of the jelly. A Concord grape gets a cabernet sauvignon, strawberry goes with champagne, a nice zinfandel for black currant, etc. And after refreshments, you were thinking of a nice drive around the neighborhoods? Warm bath? Foot massage?
[I was beaming at this point because he was so incredibly sweet!]
Me: I asked the wine guy downstairs what bottle would go with pb&j and he chose an Italian Chianti. But, if you want to bring something else, please do so.
Lol about afterward. I do have a bathtub product for couples to review :-D.
Improv Boy: I didn't even think of Chianti! Good choice! Perhaps we'll just let you have the wine and I can show you my appreciation.
I smiled, laugh out loud, and got up to set the table. Since Improv Boy was always very punctual, I figured that he had sent his last text right before heading over to my place. Just as I expected, there was a knock on my door at exactly 6:30. I couldn't contain how happy I was to see him, and we proceeded to make out in the foyer…and the living room…and the kitchen. Our lips finally parted enough so that I could begin baking the entrée.
Improv Boy: How was your day?
Me: Better now.
Improv Boy: What was wrong?
Me: I have another migraine. I told you that, though.
My phone vibrated to indicate that a text had come in. I opened the message to see the following:
I hope you are feeling better. I'm off to my game, but I will be thinking of the job left undone at your place ;).
Me [smiling]: Did you send this before you got here?
Improv Boy: Send what?
Me: A text about me feeling better.
Improv Boy: No.
Me: Did you get my texts this afternoon about wine and pb&j and bathtime fun?
Improv Boy: No.
I looked at Improv Boy and then my phone, completely confused. And then, I did that again. As I started to put the pieces together, my eyes got wide, my jaw dropped open, and my face became flushed.
Improv Boy had the same first name as my high school boyfriend, Boston Christian. I had been texting Boston Christian – now married and definitely not Improv Boy – all afternoon. And, Boston Christian had played along.
Me: Oh. My. God.
To be continued…