Like most first dates, there were awkward moments. Josh was reserved and rarely gave information about himself voluntarily, which meant it was difficult to get to know him. And while there was certainly a mutual physical attraction, there was an shyness in Josh that only seemed to fall away with the help of a few drinks. Still, I attributed that to the fact that we were still getting to know each other.
But on my last night there, as we gazed at the city lights over the Inner Harbor, he turned to me and said, “You know this isn’t going to work, right?” Completely out of nowhere. I asked him to explain.
He said our personalities were too different – I’m outgoing, energetic and emotional; he is analytical, quiet and calm. I, both a romantic and a lawyer, tried to plead my case – “doesn’t love find a way?” — and he, the realistic, number-crunching one, pointed out the obvious practical hurdles. With the physical distance between us, there was no way to properly date or figure out how we would fit together.
My fairy tale seemingly shattered, I began to cry. He seemed sad too, though I couldn’t tell if it was a mutual sense of despair or just uneasiness from my tears. The next morning he drove me to the airport and I asked him to visit me in California. He gave a noncommittal answer. I left wondering if I would ever see him again.
Turns out, I would. A few weeks after my trip to Maryland, Josh asked to visit me in California. I was excited. I convinced myself that he wanted to visit California to see if he could make a home here with me.
I planned a day trip to Napa. I borrowed my neighbor’s bike for Josh so we could ride around town together in true California style. I proudly showed it to my friends, took it to my favorite local haunts and went out of my way to prove how great we could be together, the perfect black power couple.