Discover more from A.B.C.D.E.F.G.
Diet Coke Dealer and I have still been seeing each other, although not as frequently as I had once hoped. Mercury Retrograde was a doozy, and had me going back and forth on whether it was completely over or if I should woman up and have The Conversation. Knowing that I’d soon be gone for 10 days of family vacation, I decided on Sunday that I needed some answers in case my Grandma asked if I was ever getting married.
After a delightful Crazy Rich Asians date (my plan, obvi), we were walking down my block when we were greeted by some very loud, very danceable West African music (a DCD fave) [I also don’t know what the exact genre is called, so apologies for being culturally insensitive!]. We could see there was a party going on, and the guy hanging out at the side gate confirmed. DCD asked if there was dancing, the guy said yes, and suddenly we’re in a stranger’s backyard being offered food and drink at what we later discover is someone’s birthday party. We were there for about an hour, where we danced (after I more or less chugged a few cups of prosecco), mingled, and forced some delicious Nigerian rice into our already-full stomachs. In classic DCD fashion, he wowed everyone with his dance moves, to the point where people were recording videos and asking where he was from because he couldn’t possibly be American. LOL
But the best part of our party-crashing was how every woman we met (all two of them) immediately asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend, or married. We awkwardly responded “I don’t know,” and he asked if he was in trouble. I told him he wasn’t but that we’d obviously be discussing it later. Thank you, fairy godmothers!!!
When we got back to my place, I asked what all the Nigerian women were dying to know: “So, am I your girlfriend? Are you my boyfriend? What are we?” He said he didn’t know and that he’s hesitant to don those titles because he knows his level of communication is already poor, that being a boyfriend would raise those expectations even higher, and he doesn’t want to disappoint. Momentary disappointment aside, it was refreshing to hear him acknowledge his lack of reaching out, because it meant I wasn’t crazy. Once we moved past expectations and got into feelings, we both agreed that we like each other, we want to keep hanging out, and we’re somewhere in between full-fledged BFGF and sporadic-Hinge-dates. He said he refers to me monosyllabically as his “girl,” which is fine by me because I’d certainly rather be considered his “girl” than his “friend.” All in all, I’m pleased.
Finally, perhaps the most exciting update of all: on Wednesday, he washed his dishes.