#14- Staying the Night on Vacation

Sometimes dates come from the most unlikely of sources.

A few days before I left to Utah my phone started ringing with the name of a friend from my LDS mission appearing on the caller ID. Most of the time when I get a phone call from a mission friend I just let it forward to voicemail. It isn’t that I don’t want to talk to my friends from my mission. The conversations just tend to last an exorbitant amount of time and I usually don’t have an hour to devote to them. So, sticking with consistency, I let the call go to voicemail and listened to it immediately.

“Hey, Michael! Call me back ASAP! I need to talk to you about something!” My friend’s voice sounded urgent and concerned. I began to worry that maybe something serious had happened, like a death or accident of a mutual friend. A few moments after listening to the voicemail he sent me a text that only compounded my fears. "Call me AS AP!" I immediately phoned my friend, trying to figure out what could possibly have been so urgent. 

"Hoooolt! What's up man?" My friend answered his phone, addressing me by my last name as we did when we were missionaries. It got old calling each other Elder This-or-That and we often just deferred to last names, no matter how much we were exhorted to do otherwise. 

"What's up Buddy? What's going on? Your message got me worried."

"You're coming to Utah next week right? I saw that on Facebook."

"Yeah I am. Why?" My anxiety over possible tragedy started to turn to mere curiosity. Why was my mission friend who I hadn't in over two years all of a sudden interested that I was traveling to Utah? 

"Well, I have a guy I want to set you up with. He and I work on a student council together at school and he's really cool. Dresses really well and always makes lots of sassy remarks. I think you'd like him. Would you want to go on a date with him?"

I was pleasantly amused by my friend. Besides a handful of close mission friends, I hadn't really heard from anyone since coming out in October. I try not to presume any of their opinions of my coming out (nor is it really important to me whether or not they agree with it), but I think the silence often speaks for itself. Needless to say, I was pleased that my friend not only was comfortable with being friends with me, but also was trying to set me up with a friend. 

"Sure! I've got time while I'm there to go out with someone. Give him my number and tell him to get in touch with me."

"Great!" My friend replied. "Hey Holt, I just wanted to tell you that in my mind you'll always be the missionary I knew in Paraguay. But I think you're great now too! I love reading your blog and hearing about all your dates. I'll always be a friend." 

Heartwarming, right? 

Anyways, I didn't think much of it. There was no guarantee that his friend would contact me, and I hadn't asked my friend for a way to get a hold of the guy, so I figured if it happened, then great, and if not, then no big deal.  

A few days later, on the night before I left for Utah, I was getting into my car after yoga and checked my phone for missed phone calls and texts. This sometimes causes great anxiety for me. Sometimes I'll get out of being in the gym for 2 hours and there will be 2-3 missed calls and a number of texts. Other times there'll be nothing. Isn't that the worst? In our minds it means that no one cared about us for the last two hours. In actuality it means that the world doesn't revolve around us, even if we want it to. 

Luckily for my self esteem there were a number of texts, most of them saying goodbye to me while I was in Utah. One of them was from a Utah number not saved in my phone: 

"Hey Michael. Apparently our friends think we should go out some time. What do you think about that?"

I replied to him that I was always interested in meeting new people and would carve out some time for us to hang out. We decided on a Sunday evening near the end of my trip to hang out and said we'd keep in contact throughout the week to solidify plans. 

I flew to SLC and had a blast throughout the week. I saw my friends perform (if you're in SLC go see "Tale of Two Cities" at the Hale Centre Theatre or if you're in Orem try to get tickets to "Hairspray"). I did yoga. Went dancing. Saw old friends. And just had fun. During the week I texted my potential date a few times to figure out our plan for Sunday. Given the fairly dull options that Salt Lake City provides for Sunday night entertainment, there wasn't really a lot to choose from. I was amused when he asked me, "Does your bishop let you drink coffee?". I informed him that I hadn't been to church in months and didn't even know who my bishop was. We decided to start our date at a coffee shop and play the rest of the night by ear. 

On the night of the date I found #14's townhouse on a quaint side street in the downtown area that I had never heard of before. I walked up to the door and peeked through the glass on the door to see inside. There was my date, sitting at his kitchen table,  finishing up dinner. I knocked and he answered the door. 

"Hi, I'm Michael" I said after stepping inside. 

He extended his hand to shake and introduced himself. After apologizing for not being completely ready yet he showed me to the living room to wait for him. As he brushed his teeth and got his shoes on I took in the media that surrounded me. On the coffee table in front of me was a book, some sort of self portrait mixing visual art and writing, of a Mormon convert and artist named Trever Southey. The art was beautiful and I was especially touched by a quote on the inside flap that said, "Growth does not generally mean the killing of any part of oneself but the embracing of all enriching parts." How true. 

My date emerged from his bedroom ready to leave and I was finally able to get a complete look at him. He was about my height (that is, around 5'8"), thin, with a nice defined jaw and piercing, light blue eyes. His hair was buzzed and his ears were stretched just slightly with some small plugs. He wore dark jeans and a plain white tee. I was completely attracted to him. 

We got into the car and drove a few minutes to a coffee shop on 100 South Street. On the way there I tried to initiate conversation with him but felt as if he was resistant to talking. Maybe he wasn't as excited about the date anymore? Or maybe he just wanted to be able to sit down and talk face to face, instead of in a car? I decided to not think too much about it and found parking for us. 

After ordering tea for both of us, we sat down and again I started to ask questions. And again I felt that he wasn't really opening up at all. It's not that he wasn't responding to my questions, he just seemed to be evading any type of meaningful response. 

Some examples:

Q: "So, what are you studying in school right now?"
A: "Man, what haven't I studied in school...(silence)"

Q: "How many siblings do you have?"
A: "Less than I used to..."

Q: "Do you like the tea?"
A: "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts."

I jest. He said he liked his tea a lot. But the first two questions and answers were completely true! #14 seemed to have a thick shell to protect himself from...what? Being hurt? Vulnerable? Letting people in? Honesty? Any type of question that I asked about family, goals, or really anything of substance was met with distance and evasiveness. He didn't, however, seem to be having a bad time or be disinterested in me. In fact, there'd be times I'd catch him smiling a huge smile in my direction as I spoke, listening intensely on what I said. I was confused but still intrigued. 

I decided to lighten the conversation and talk about entertainment. 

"What tv shows do you like?" I asked him. 

"Nurse Betty is really good. As is Dexter. But Weeds is amazing. Like hands down the best show on television."

My heart leapt. I. Love. Weeds. After Lost ended Weeds became my obsession and I became completely entranced by the tragically comedic citizens of Agrestic, CA. For Christmas of 2009 I got seasons 1-5 on DVD and my friend Cory and I would watch episodes in between classes at school. We finished all five seasons in a little over a month. In December, after moving back to Portland, I spent the first few days watching all of season six on my family's DVR. I. Love. Weeds. 

"What did you think of the season six finale?" I asked #14, excited to find something that he might open up about. 

"I actually have only seen through season five." He confessed. "I wonder if season six is available to rent at Blockbuster."

Being the Weeds fanatic that I am I knew that it had come out on DVD the week beforehand and was onsale at both Target and Walmart. 

"I was planning on buying season six soon anyways." I said. "Why don't we go pick it up and watch a few episodes at your place?"

We picked up our still piping-hot tea, walked out of the coffee shop, got in the car, and went to purchase Weeds. The entire car ride to the store and back to his house was filled with character analysis, plot recaps, favorite characters and plot twists. We geeked out over Weeds. It was a spontaneous and fun direction to take the date. 

We got back to his place and got everything set up in the living room. He brought us out each a blanket saying that he couldn't watch tv without one. After he switched into sweats he sat down next to me on the couch. We only ended up using one blanket, but we were by no means cuddling as we watched the show. 

Late night television or movie watching with a date generally leads to one thing in my experience: about half the time is spent watching the movie and the other half is spent making out. It's like there is something chemical that is transmitted from the glow of this television that turns on a switch in people, causing them to lose interest in the entertainment and instead become captivated by the lips of the person you're with. From my research it's a pretty universal phenomena amongst all genders and orientations. 

I credit the genius writing of Jenji Kohan, creator of Weeds, for the blockage of the aforementioned phenomena. We didn't even snuggle as we watched because we were both leaning forward and focusing on the show. I had already seen the season so there wasn't as much shock by the plot twists and black comedy, mostly just reminders of how much I love the show. But as it was #14's first time watching, it was entirely new to him and seemed to fill him with joy. He laughed and guffawed out loud at every joke and twist, showing a softer side that I hadn't seen in the coffee shop. The more I watched him watch Weeds, the more I liked him. 

After our 6th episode it was nearly 2am and #14 announced that we could watch one more and then would have to stop. We took a bathroom break, refilled our water glasses, and sat back down on the couch. This time he sat a bit closer than before, and I decided to put my head on his chest. He responded by wrapping his arm around my shoulder and running his hand through my hair. We watched the entire seventh episode like this, cuddling and guffawing together. 

When the episode finished we got up and I started to get ready to leave, packing up the DVD while he put the blankets back in his room. I could see him making his bed as I looked for my keys and phone. Not a word had been exchanged by us since the tv was turned off, and I was unsure if the date had ended or not. #14 came back into the living room as I started to put my shoes on. 

"Well, I guess I should go home then?" I asked him. 

"Do you want to go home?" He responded, smiling coyly. 

I didn't know exactly what I wanted at that moment. The date had started in such a frustrating way but turned sweet near the end. I didn't know what would happen if I passed his bedroom door and stayed the night. I wasn't opposed to anything happening that felt right and came from an honest place. 

"No." I answered. "I don't want to go home."

"Then stay here." He smiled again and we walked towards his room. We stripped down to our underwear and got into bed together. Our lips found each other in the dark and we lightly kissed. I still had no idea where this was going, but instead of trying to think it out and plan what I thought was right, I tried to stay present in the moment and feel it out.

My date placed his cheek on my chest as I lay on my back, holding me closely. I traced his back with my hands, feeling the tautness of his muscles. We laid together for quite awhile, our inhales and exhales mirroring each other. It felt safe and innocent. 

I turned my face towards his and kissed him passionately. He kissed back and we embraced. We both pulled away at the same time and hugged one another. There was a mutual understanding that that was all that was going to happen that night. We turned to one side and I held him close to me as we drifted to sleep. 

I had to leave relatively early the next morning in order to get the car I had borrowed back to its owner but #14 woke up with me and walked me to the door. We hugged and gave each other a kiss goodbye, promising to keep in touch. 

The hardest part about a date on vacation is seeing the point of it. #14 and I had met and had a nice and close experience from my point of view. Was it a perfect date? No. Was there more I wanted to know about him? Absolutely. Would I go on another date? Definitely. But I don't have that option now. I'm back in Portland and he's in Salt Lake and there's only so much that Facebook and phones can do. But it was a good date. And if I'm ever back in SLC I wouldn't mind seeing him again at all.