To Bumble

First Breakfast

November 10, 2019

I saw his picture on Bumble; there he was holding a very small reptile in his hands. I knew it was not a snake. But what was it? His smile was luminous as he held the small creature. A Jewish Richard Gere. Here was a man who could hold onto something wild and let it be wild. The creature looked like a baby dinosaur. Who was this man and why was he holding a baby dinosaur? The fact that he was an author also captivated me. So I wrote to him, as on Bumble only women can make the first move.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Richard Gere?”

He wrote back almost right away.

“People tell me all the time that I look like Richard Gere, like Harrison Ford. But I decided to focus on my other talents.”

I knew I had to meet him after he told me about his new project, which intersected with my work. He was writing about creativity.

“We could meet for breakfast or a drink.”    

“I love breakfast.” I wrote.

“We should have breakfast as soon as possible,” he wrote.  

It was Friday night. I live in Boston and he lives in Providence. I had a Sunday breakfast date already lined up (with a younger guy!) and was travelling the next week. Saturday breakfast was as soon as possible.

Deep inside, I thought to myself, he’s not really interested in me romantically, he’s just interested in my brain and the fact that I am an author.  

Saturday dawned, dark and wintery.

The Jewish Richard Gere suggested Sunday breakfast.

“How about today?” I countered and signed it carpe diem.

“I am having breakfast with a friend, but she always cancels, so perhaps it could work. I will let you know in an hour,” he said. I thought to myself: No way. But it was impressive that he could be spontaneous.

Within 70 minutes he confirmed that breakfast could work.

I suggested Café Landwer in Cleveland Circle. The best breakfast around. He agreed.

I walked all the way there in the rain and wind. I was too nervous to drive.

Now understand that my hair is very curly, and when subjected to wind and rain – well it gets a little “cray-cray” as my daughters like to say.

My hair looked wild and held perhaps the wildness that I felt. Wild with excitement. Open to this man in a new way now that my daughters were entering college.

I ordered a latte and was sipping it when he walked in. Almost 30 minutes late. But he had warned me.

He took off his sweater, and I noticed how broad his shoulders were, the strength in his hands.

We ordered. For him the shakshuka with haloumi and for me the salmon eggs benedict. I was too excited to eat.

I loved hearing about his biography of Mark Twain: here was another published author!

He told me that my pictures did not do me justice, exactly what I had heard from the younger man the week before.   

 My eggs benedict arrived and I offered him a taste. I think it was in that moment that I saw how this encounter was different that anything I had even experienced. I trusted him.

According to your Facebook status, you’re in a relationship I told him.

“I am?”

“It ended” he assured me.

He then announced that he was getting rid of the Bumble app as he wanted to connect with me again.

“There’s going to be a second date, a third date. You know that right?”

I did.

“I have to ask. What kind of animal is that in your photo. It’s not a snake is it?”

“It’s a baby cayman” he replied.

My friend offered it to me.

I could see that he was generous and nurturing – and brave — by the way he held onto the baby cayman.

He told me how he had been a stay-at-home Dad for his kids. That he always knew that it was important for him to be a father.

Our breakfast lasted three hours, the salmon benedict before us like a border, each of trying bites. Until they took his cutlery and then I proffered my fork. There was an intimacy in this act which felt very real.

Wanting to prolong the date, I suggested a walk around the reservoir, but the wind was literally whipping my already crazed curls. It was simply too cold

He walked me to the Cleveland Center T stop.   Proffered a brief kiss, long enough for me to feel the heat of his lips on mine on a very cold day in November. The touch of his lips felt like a burn, the imprint lasting for hours, like the seal of wax on the letters of long ago.

Read Andy’s blog about our first breakfast here.