Believe it or not, this professional dater was once in a long-term relationship. Granted, it was not your typical relationship, and I'm even in the process of writing a book about my experiences with this fantastic fella. However, that is not a nostalgic walk down memory lane you get tonight. Save your pennies and buy the book when it comes out... it's sure to keep you more than entertained.
After my seven-year relationship turned into more of a friendship, I spent two years dating me and only me. It was a great time of exploration and discovery, and it was also a time of occasional loneliness. When I started thinking it was high-time I get back out in the dating world, I was completely overwhelmed.
Enter The Google Pothead.
He was one of the original founders of Google. Born and raised right in the Lower Eastside, he had moved back from California when the famous search engine began taking off. He was bought out and, needless to say, was older and insanely wealthy. He was independent, attractive, and knew exactly what he wanted - out of a meal, out of an evening, out of a girl, and out of life. Two years of being single and not dating led me to know some specifics of what I wanted as well. And I wasn't afraid to tell him...
I wanted to find a man who didn't need my paycheck. One who also didn't need me to cook for him, make decisions for him, or meet his family. I wanted someone to take me out and make me feel girly, to show me a side of New York I hadn't seen yet. I wanted someone who didn't need me to make a commitment but wasn't interested in shuffling me into his mix of twenty other women. I was seeking someone who didn't need to meet my friends, know too much about my career, or pry into the depths of my childhood or previous relationship. And finally in the harsh realization of my nearly three-year, self-imposed celibacy, I wanted someone I could eventually feel comfortable with breaking out of my shell and dipping my toes into what Carrie Bradshaw had shown me about how to live the fabulous single girl's life in NYC.
Not exactly a short order, right? Well, The Google Pothead fit the bill beautifully. He didn't balk at my directness. In fact on our first date as I sat there watching him nurse his expensive bourbon, I felt completely adult for the first time in my life. If that was all I got out of my time with him, it would have been worth it.
Luckily I got more. We went on several dates, and he was patient with me. He never pushed me to do anything I didn't want in the same way he never allowed me to pay for a single thing, open a single door, or even make a single plan. For the first foray, this - no, he was exactly what I needed. A month or so went by filled with delicious meals, surprise lunch dates, and lots of laughs. And one night I asked him if we could have dinner near his place. I did all the things a single girl is supposed to do when impending coitus is on the horizon... and I showed up looking super hot if I do say so myself.
As did he.
At the end of the evening (having no idea how to behave with a man I'd known for such a short time much less in a less than puritanical way), Mr. Google returned from the other bedroom with a contraption I hadn't seen since the "Cheech and Chong" movies I used to sneakily watch after my parents went to bed. While talking he stuffed it with lawn clippings and pulled out a lighter. He then passed it to me.
"I've never done that."
Surprised for the first time since we'd been seeing each other, "Oh. Well, I smoke a lot of pot. I hope that's ok."
Who knew of all the pseudo-demands I'd made, the commitment-phobia I'd exhibited, and fun times we'd spent together, that our biggest missed connection would involve marijuana? I went with the flow while refraining from toking up, and left to go home just as his eyes glassed over to the point of near-irritation.
The Google Pothead and I continued our tryst for several weeks before it waned into a whisper of a memory. I became more and more aware of things I needed and things that weren't as important as I thought they were. This would be the biggest learning experience of my dating career, and I was sponging every ounce of it up.
Over the past few years we've tried to get together a few times to see if we can be friends. Once we even went on a for reals kind of date. We are still Facebook friends and even once ran into each other while we were on separate (and less interesting) dates, but I came to the conclusion awhile ago that The Google Pothead was for a season. Every time I see him, I quickly go to back to the place I was when we met. A vulnerable, wide-eyed, confused, unsure girl looking for a temporary connection to make me feel alive. While I cherish what he was for me and will never regret any of my time on the Lower Eastside eating expensive food, dodging the contact highs, and playfully arguing over completely inane political values, The Google Pothead and I will never be.
