Page 17 of The Bleeding Hearts Club

He guffaws in that weird robotic tone through the phone. “Yeah, no shit. I’ve spoken to probably fifteen people so far, and not a damn conversation has been remotely helpful in finding a match. It mostly consists of someone trying to seduce me, or they are discussing the plans for the wedding they’ve already planned for us,” he makes a gagging sound, and I giggle. “If the beach wasn’t so damn nice, I’d probably try to swim back to Florida.”

I laugh out loud at that. The idea of swimming thirty odd miles back to the Florida shore is genuinely way more appealing than having to listen to another rub and tug over the phone.

“Maybe we can steal a canoe and just book it back?” I asked with amusement lacing each word.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” He asks incredulously. “That’s a hell of a lot easier than swimming. I bet the stars look amazing that far out in the water at night,” he mumbles in thought.

“Yeah. No light pollution. Just endless sea and sky. That sounds like a dream honestly.”

“You a big fan of star gazing, then?” He sounds interested.

For once this is a nice conversation. “Yeah. I’m a night person. Not a ‘night on the town’ person, but I prefer life after sunset. It’s quiet. The stars are bright. There aren’t many people up and about. It’s just easier than the day.”

He hums a little to himself like he’s in thought. “I get that. There is a type of serenity in the time between sunset and sunrise. Although, I am definitely more of a morning person.”

I fake gag, “Ew. Morning?”

“Yeah,” he laughs a little. “The sunrise is something else. It’s almost like a promise. You made it through another night. You are about to embark on a new day. New opportunities, new experiences. It’s a chance to do something better than yesterday.”

“Well now that you put it that way,” I say thoughtfully. “That’s…honestly a beautiful way to look at it. I just see morning as the time that interrupts my sleep,” I continue a little sheepishly.

He just chuckles. “I mean, it is that too, no doubt. But, it’s the little things in life you know. Birds chirping in spring. Sunrise on a cool fall morning. Snowfall in the dead of night. It’s those little things that make it all worth it.”

I nod in thought.

“So I take it you aren’t a grand gesture kind of guy?” I ask teasing.

I could hear a rustle through the online, as if he had shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that, necessarily. There’s a time for big things like that. Reaching milestones like job promotions, or like graduating master’s programs and all that kind of crap. But showing appreciation, portraying gratitude, and, not that I’m talking about love right now, but love, care, passion, all of that, it’s much more meaningful in the small things,” he states it all so casually. As if he is discussing the weather.

“Like what? What kind of small gestures can be more meaningful?” I asked him with hope in my voice. This guy got me. Down to my core.

I’ve never been one for huge displays of affection or the idea of being proposed to in front of a huge audience, no. My anxiety would not deal. I’d probably lose the ring trying to put it on. But something about small things. Leaving notes in lunches, bringing home my favorite food after work was particularly grueling.

“Well, for example, we’ll say dates. I mean, unless the girl in question really wants to do that, fancy dinners, the opera or ballet or some shit, and wildly elaborate plans are a no go. Hanging out on a Friday night, watching a game—Do you like hockey?” He interrupts himself asking. I kind of laugh a little.

Yeah, hockey romances…

“Yeah, I like hockey.”

“Perfect. So watching a hockey game, eating an extra large greasy as all hell pepperoni and extra cheese pizza, maybe popcorn, and then after the game making cookies or brownies together to eat during the movie the girl chooses,” he continues and all I can think is how perfect that sounds. Nights in. Just spending time with someone who wants to be there with me. Someone who likes me despite all that I am. There’s a small flutter of hope and something akin to joy floating in my chest.

“Another possibility is running through a Subway, getting dinner, and throwing a couple of blankets in the back of my Jeep, with the top off, eating our food and hoping we can see some shooting stars.” His voice has taken on an almost wistful like quality. We both sit in a companionable silence for a moment before the two minute warning light flashes on the phone.

I sigh. “That all does seem much more heartfelt than a bouquet of roses and having to suffer through stilettos to eat some fancy schmancy hors d’oeuvres that won’t fill me up,” I joke. He laughs.

“Exactly.” He sighs to himself. “I wish we could keep talking. This is the best conversation I have had since last night.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“Uh, so, if you’re totally cool with it, and only, if you’re cool with it, the mixer tonight…” He trails off a little hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah! That sounds great.”

“Maybe we can meet—“

“By the bar?” Excitement pours out of me.

“Yeah! We can finish this discussion. And maybe I can show you some of my dance moves!” He chuckles.