It was early April, and I was standing outside of a quick-service sandwich restaurant in Boulder, demonstrating the power of using one’s cellphone to make purchases. The new CMO of my company had insisted that all of us spend two hours at lunchtime every day demoing our service. So everyone from the CEO to the VP of Marketing (me), to the art director was assigned a venue. It was one of those spring days where you don’t quite believe winter has been broken—the occasional breeze still had a bit of the razor in it; the air smelling of ice melt and old snow.
The demo blitz lasted a mere three days before the CMO called us back in, but that was enough time for something momentous to happen.
On the third day, a car pulled up in front of the restaurant, and I approached the driver as she stepped to the curb. She was cute and young—a professionally dressed brunette. She mentioned that she’d heard about our company, and was really interested in learning more about us. Then she gave me her card, and I learned I was talking to an account executive for one of the Boulder newspapers.
“Ah,” I thought in my primitive man-brain. “She wants to sell us some ads. She’s cute.” I handed her my card, showed her how to get a free sandwich with her cellphone, and moved on to the next victim.
A few days later, she sent me email, offering to take me to lunch in order to learn more about the company and our product. Never one to turn down free food, and looking forward to seeing her again, I gladly took her up on the invitation, and we met for sushi in downtown Boulder.
The lunch was really fun. I could tell she was smart, and, being a newspaper veteran myself, I made her give the full pitch, just to put her through her paces. I was impressed with her level of competence and passion about what she was selling. And, you know, she was still cute. By the end of lunch, I actually believed we should advertise in her newspaper. I told her to send me a proposal.
I knew Ad Sales Girl (ASG) was pretty and smart, but I also knew better than to ask out a vendor. That didn’t stop me from sending what I thought were veiled signals. When I wrote her a thank you email for the sushi lunch, I said, “Lunch was amazing; you are amazing.” And I meant it.
A short time later, I sent ASG a business-related text message. On a Friday night.
A few minutes later, she texted back, and asked me why I was thinking about work at 10:30 at night. And that’s when I took a chance and replied, “I wasn’t thinking about work. I was thinking about you.”
The silence as I waited for a reply (which, it turns out, she and her friends were crafting very carefully between happy giggles) gave me a stomachache. She wrote, “Oh good. At least you weren’t thinking about work.”
I didn’t know that each tiny hint made her smile a little more.
When our ad finally hit the paper, I told ASG that it was my turn to take her to lunch, so I could show her how the cellphone payment system worked, and she agreed. I felt a little jittery and nervous on my way to meet her the next day, and I wasn’t sure why.
She stood up and hugged me as I entered the restaurant; I pulled out her chair for her as we sat down at a patio table. We ordered food and talked and talked, and the sun pouring into the courtyard illuminated a pair of incredibly green eyes. As I noticed her dimples when she smiled at me and took in the way her lips changed shape from moment to moment, I realized she wasn’t just cute. She was incredibly pretty.
She was a peach.
After the meal, we walked to the corner and said goodbye. We hugged for a moment but continued to hold each other’s hands as our bodies parted. I felt a little shaky, and I knew what had to be done. So I put my hand to her cheek and said, “Is this…?” and kissed her on the lips. Her skin smelled of sunlight and early spring blossoms. And when she kissed me back, I could finally breathe again.
After three or four marvelous, funny, sweet and intensely romantic dates, where we couldn’t stop smiling, or kissing, or laughing, I called to tell her I couldn’t give her what she needed or deserved, and said we should stop seeing each other.
My internal story went a little something like this: sure, she was smart and pretty (and even Jewish). Sure, we had fun together. But she was so much younger, with such a different outlook on life, and, well, she lived in Boulder. And when I wasn’t at work, I didn’t want to be in Boulder. So sticking around to see her after a long day, when all I really wanted to do was speed back to Denver, was just too much. And between logistics and my commitment to Simone, it all just seemed too complicated. In short, I told myself it wasn’t going to work out in the long run, so I’d be better off ending things immediately before either of us got too invested in the other. I’d been down that road, and I didn’t need another aftermath or bombshell in my life. Suffering for my art is one thing. Inviting heartache is something totally unnecessary.
She was more understanding than I deserved, taking in my excuses and responding kindly, and we said goodbye.
Next: Peach, Part 2: Eric screws up a second chance
Very interesting. I look forward to the 2nd part of this little intermezzo.
Posted by: Chassy | February 04, 2008 at 09:22 AM
Eric, I don't want to give away your ending because your story is nowhere near complete, but I do want to say that your girl is my very best friend and I am so happy that you have found each other.
Posted by: Erin | February 06, 2008 at 10:40 AM
Where's part 2? I don't think I can wait much longer...
Posted by: Cphgrl | February 14, 2008 at 12:46 PM
How awesome to find your blog Eric. I'm a dating dad too, and your Age Gap post resonated with me as my current gf is half my age (she is 20). i'm finding all kinds of excuses not to work while I peruse your postings. damn you, and thank you :D
Posted by: twystr | February 26, 2008 at 10:51 AM
I think you do this half of the time just for writing material.
;)
Posted by: ja | March 30, 2008 at 03:34 PM