In the spring of 2006 I agreed to go on a date with a chef. It wasn’t something I was necessarily looking forward to but I was coming off of a really bad break-up and, needed the distraction.
This chef had asked me out several times but I was either in a relationship or just thought we wouldn’t be a match. He struck me as too serious, too brooding.
On a whim I decided that dark and stormy had some sexy potential. My serial monogamy habit had only left me heartbroken, so I thought I’d give “having a fling” a try.
We agreed to meet for drinks and the guy was late. He was late for a very important date! I was pissed when he arrived, and well in to my second gin and tonic. No way was this guy gonna find out what Victoria’s secret was. Chef had blown his chances.
He was breathless when he seated himself on a stool next to mine, and he smelled so good. Dammit Kim, be a stone, be a stone.
Despite myself, I rolled with laughter for the next few hours because the guy had jokes! Funny is sexy. My knee touched his because my body willed it to. My thoughts were carnal and I was alright with that because I was trying my best to only live in the physical realm.
It turned out he was late because he had taken his father to a chemo session. Small talk turned in to real conversation, and we were both feeling the beginnings of a strong connection. At the end of the date, he walked me to my door and we kissed. It was a kiss so electric that it could have powered a small village for days. Later he would tell me that he ran off the road after driving away from that kiss.
On our second date, he had candles lit and a cheese tray accompanied by a bottle of Bordeaux. Poor guy. I didn’t know it at the time but he hates wine and is lactose intolerant.
We spent the next few weeks talking in to the wee hours of the morning and making out. I was seriously failing at the “fling thing” but give me a break; I was falling in love.
The “moment” finally happened about two weeks in. In the soft light of dawn, he stroked my cheek and asked “are you my girlfriend yet”? I supplied him with a kiss instead of an answer and began getting ready for work. On my way out the door, I casually mentioned that I was craving an orange.
A few hours had passed at work and I was seized by a grin that was causing serious cheek pain. Before I knew it, two newly familiar arms had reached around my waist, and an orange was placed on the table in front of me. He offered a wry smile in place of words and simply walked out the door towards his job at the restaurant next to mine. It was only a piece of fruit but as I watched him walk away I thought, “Oh, I’m your girlfriend alright”.
Fast forward to 2014.
The other day I mentioned I was craving an orange and was met with a wink and smile by D. I thought his behavior was quite odd.
We went about our day normally, which included a trip to the grocery store. The checker was ringing up our sexy staples of t.p., paper towels and dish soap when D abruptly announced “you forgot your orange” and sprinted towards the produce section. I thought it was sweet that he remembered but I was also thinking “okay weirdo”. My citrus needs have just never been such a cause for alarm.
Once home. the groceries were unloaded and the orange was placed on the counter. I settled in to blogging while D did whatever it is that he does (instagramming his artwork, watching superhero movie trailers).
He was already in bed when I noticed the note he’d inscribed in sharpie on my orange.
Only then did it dawn on me; he thought it was a sex orange.
I’ll never have the heart to tell him that he was picking up on a message I wasn’t sending.
Tonight I’m reflecting on that first romantic spark, and am optimistic about every opportunity to reignite it.
In the first year that we dated, I threw D a surprise Birthday party. I had the d.j. play this song as he made his grand entrance.
Here Comes Your Man by Pixies