What happened next with BFD?

Part 3 of the BFD Series

Here’s another installment of the BFD story. ICYMI: here’s part 1 and part 2.

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I found myself in a quasi-long distance entanglement after going on the best first date with someone I matched with on an app in Seattle (I live 3 hours away in Portland.)

Our first date on Wednesday sprawled into the next night when he invited me to stay at his place on Thursday, and hen I woke up in his bed on Friday, I had one of those moments where you forget where you are.

The second my clarity came back, he pulled me closer and I reflexively thought to myself: 

This.  More of this. This is heaven…

But then, logic sunk its teeth into my trance.

Yeah this feels fucking good, but that’s mostly because a very long and handsome man is spooning me from behind while a cute cat is purrs in my ear. I mean, we were practically cosplaying a Precious Moments figurine over here.

I assaulted myself with more logic.

I don’t need this person in particular to give me this feeling. I can find other attractive, smart, tall men out there with cute cats. I cannot attach. I will not attach.

A few moments later, BFD released me from his grip and lit a joint. Why did he have to look so good blowing smoke? I felt my cheeks blush and asserted:

“I’d really like to see you again”

He choked a little.

“Hell yeah, me too. Let’s pull out our calendars and see what works.”

I watched him stare into his phone, his face alight in its cool white glow:

“Oof. It’s a whole three weeks away, but I could come to Portland the weekend of the 24th.”

I knew I had no weekend plans for the rest of the month and quipped.

 “Works for me too!”

I felt something fiery in my stomach and quickly corrected:

“Actually, no. I’m sorry but I think I hate this.” 

Even though felt like it popped out automatically, I tried my best to defend:

“I hate…. I hate. It’s like, I hate how we obviously really like each other and don’t even live that far apart yet…. 3 weeks? Like, if you really wanted to, you could be in Portland tonight.”

I felt his arm stiffen.

“I’m not saying you have to, or that I even expect you to. I’m just saying it’s possible and I want you to, and what you want to do with that information is up to you.”

He asserted:

“It sounds really fun but I need adequate time apart from you to process how I actually feel.”

“Fucking fair point.” I said, and I meant it.

My large, awkward duffel bag was strapped across my chest when we said goodbye in front of my car. 

He cupped the back of my scalp in his hands:

“I really like you.” 

His sincerely pierced me for second, and then I thought about how he had the most deer-like eyes I’ve ever seen on a man.

“Same. Please come to Portland tonight.”

I looked away.

“or don’t.”

And then he kissed me.

On my ride home and reflected about all the times I rushed into things and regretted it later. I could do this. I could go slow. I could wait three weeks if I had to.

I also wondered if the pressure I put on BFD step his shit up and visit me that night was healthy and cute or clingy and weird.

Before my car crossed state lines, BFD sent a text confirming he’d be coming to Portland later that day. My whole body tingled at the thought of this and I excitedly sent him a voice note:

“Damn. You processed that very fast. When did you arrive at this?”

My phone pinged seconds later:

Does it frustrate you that I titled this newsletter What Happened Next with BFD? and then ended the story at the same plot point as I did in part 1?

Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

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