The Patient
My life has been filled with a regular peppering of experiences—all of my own doing—that leave me with nothing else to say but, “How the fuck did I get myself into this?”
I met Luke after a brief email exchange. Our first date was for a drink (I had another date for dinner that same evening). He was a gentleman from the moment I arrived. He stood as I approached the table, made sure I was comfortable and ordered my cocktail. We spent a relaxed hour talking and the conversation flowed. He was originally from Iowa and his Midwestern roots showed in both the inflections in his voice and no nonsense conversation.
I knew in a minute that Luke was the sort of man a woman could count on.
We arranged to see each other again and as I rode in a taxi to my second date I thought about what I was looking for in a partner. Luke certainly fit in most ways. He was handsome, a good father, kind, polite, interesting, successful and well dressed. He was also smart and confident.
BUT, there wasn’t an instant physical attraction from my end. There wasn’t a thing wrong with him. What was wrong with me?
Date number two was for Cuban food. Luke took me to a fantastic restaurant, Guantanamera. I had a couple of mojitos, a luscious chicken dish and lots of plantains.
Everything was perfect. Again, Luke was great–I couldn’t name one thing that bothered me about him. I even liked the way he chewed. He gave me a quick kiss goodbye and I walked home with my head filled with thoughts.
Why don’t I feel at least the beginnings of THE feeling?
Date number three a week later was for Thai food—a favorite of mine. Luke chose a great place—a hole in the wall restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen that didn’t seem to have a name. The food was terrific and so was the company. He suggested that we take a walk along the Hudson and then he’d take me to my building. A lovely idea.
Luke took my hand as we strolled. It was comforting but still no stomach-churning fireworks. As we walked through Riverside Park heading towards my street, I stopped him.
“Kiss me. Really kiss me like you mean it.”
And he did.
And it was an excellent kiss. A knee-buckling level kiss.
And I felt nothing but appreciation for his skills.
During the evening he’d mentioned twice that he was going in for minor hernia surgery in two days. Just day surgery—no big deal, but he didn’t know who he could ask to pick him up at the hospital and take him home. They wouldn’t release him without an escort. I knew both times he said it that he was hoping I’d volunteer. I didn’t want to.
When he dropped me off at my building after our walk home, I told him I would be happy to come to the surgical center and see that he got home safely. He looked relieved.
Now, I suppose you’re wondering why I would volunteer.
Guilt.
I felt guilty that I’d gone on three dates with Luke and didn’t have feelings for him. I felt a sort of obligation to do something nice since he’d been so kind to me. I felt that while I was was hoping a passion would develop; perhaps I was leading him on.
So, that’s how two days later I found myself entering the hospital and searching for the day surgery area. I had to text Luke the night before and ask for the correct spelling of his last name. It might be weird if the “next of kin” as I was listed on his admission papers didn’t know his surname.
“The family of Luke ________,” called the clerk.
“The family of Luke ________,” she said, louder.
“IS THERE ANYONE HERE FOR LUKE _______?”
Then it hit me. I’m the dummy who’s not answering.
The waiting room attendant walked me back to the recovery area. Luke’s curtain was drawn.
“He’s still groggy,” said his nurse, “but go say hi.”
“That’s OK, I’ll just wait here,” I said as I stood outside the curtain.
“Go ahead, it’ll help him wake up.”
I walked around the curtain and there was Luke.
AND there was his scrotum.
He had tossed the covers off and his gown must’ve crept up just far enough for the boys to get some air.
There are some things that you shouldn’t see while casually dating: bank statements, family videos, junk drawers, testicles.
I averted my eyes and I’m not sure that Luke was aware, but it was painfully uncomfortable. He was still loopy and I sat in the chair next to the bed while the anesthesia wore off. The nurse was harried and she handed me a sponge on a stick and a cup of water and asked me to wet his lips.
Bizarrely intimate.
Eventually Luke was ready to leave. The nurse asked me to help him get dressed. She was slammed. I started to protest and Luke did too.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” she said with a laugh as she handed me his clothes.
Actually, Nurse, I’ve only seen his balls and that was within the last hour, but why not the penis too? What the hell–let’s just throw in his ass and the very uncomfortable position I’m going to have to get in to help him into his white briefs since he can’t bend over.
A woman doesn’t expect to find herself in that place until at least the fourth date.
Luke was dressed.
We slowly left the hospital and hailed a taxi. I got him home and settled in bed, then ordered food to be delivered. The meal would arrive in 30 minutes so in the meantime I took his prescriptions to the pharmacy across the street and waited for them to be filled.
Another, How The Hell Should I Know? moment happened when the pharmacist asked for the name of his insurance provider. I had no clue. More information that normally wouldn’t be shared after three dates.
“I’ll just pay for it.”
And I did.
I gave Luke his meds, sat with him while he ate and helped him get into something more comfortable. At that point he could’ve just stripped down and let me give him a sponge bath I was so accustomed to his nudity.
His adult daughter arrived as I was helping him button his shirt. She was able to leave work early. She gave me the stink eye. I didn’t blame her. I was, after all, a complete stranger caring for her father in a very familiar way. It was weird. I think if the roles were reversed, my girls (at least my oldest) would’ve called the police or at least pepper-sprayed him.
It was the perfect time for me to leave. Luke thanked me and I told him it was my pleasure. He thanked me again but didn’t make eye contact. He was mortified.
It has been a few days and I’ve not heard from him. I’m alright with that. He’ll be a great boyfriend or husband to the right woman. The one who’ll feel butterflies in her stomach when she sees his very sexy ass in or out of those tighty whities.
“When you go to take someone’s picture, the first thing they say is, what you want me to do? Everyone is very awkward.” Annie Leibovitz
Is it bad that I feel sorry for Luke?
Poor guy…although…asking someone to bring you home after being sedated at the dentist may have been less risky than having someone you sort-of-just-met pick you up from a hernia procedure… Oh dear. Well – here’s hoping that the next man you see without pants doesn’t bring to mind the “dancing Harrys” from Something’s Gotta Give:
http://www.only-apartments.com/images/madridMe/hospitalculo.jpg
Goodness what was he thinking? Bad decision on his part. Very bad. He’s probably still wincing from it. …
You couldn’t fabricate better stories than your actual experiences! This was unbelievably mortifying. I think you were such a trooper to completely follow through.
Truly….We make most of our own trouble, don’t we?
He has a daughter and should have never asked for the help and you should have declined and stated that you weren’t comfortable in picking him up.
The rest of your article……I’m a guy..I don’t get it…I realize that I won’t get it…will never get it…have accepted that. I suspect you can’t put your finger on it but something is missing when the guy looks good, dresses well, is a gentleman, makes your knees weak when he kissed you, has a sexy ass but doesn’t turn your crank. I suppose the heart wants what it wants…and I think you have one hell of a search ahead of you.
Then again, I think I do as well.
I agree, Bruce. This was all my fault. His daughter had just started a new job that’s why she wasn’t able to help. His kiss was “weak in the knees worthy” but didn’t have that effect on me. I agree, I do have a hell of a search ahead of me. I think it’s just chemistry. You should see some of the guys I’ve been enamored with in the past. Not exactly male model material, but a turn on to me.
Yep. He should have asked his daughter to pick him up but maybe he didn’t want her to see his scroticles while he was non compos mentis. What about the Rx refund? Send the goomba a bill.
I’ve no idea how to comment on this blog, but I will reply to yours…
“scroticles”..made me laugh. I’d not heard it before. Actually today I decided not to read Melani’s blog while drinking tea because her account with Luke had my attention…everything was cool… until she drew the curtains and there they were…his “scroticles”! It took a few minutes to clean the monitor and I’m hoping the tea spittle isn’t going to clog up my keyboard.
Scroticles, a brilliant and hilarious word!
June, you crack me up. Please keep commenting. You’ll have a following. No refund on the Rx. I didn’t tell him I paid. The daughter had just started a new job and was only 3 days in. That’s why she couldn’t be there for her dad.
Your experience, Melani, reminds me of that episode in “Sex and the City” when Charlotte falls in love with her divorce lawyer and now they’re living together and he walks around nude all day.
Inasmuch as she’s passionately in love with him, the sight of him walking around nude and especially putting his bare ass down on her elegant couch absolutely disgusts her.
There are certain visuals that are a turn off from this woman’s standpoint: accidentally seeing a guys scroticles when you hardley know him; the first night of passionate new sex and the next morning he leaves the door open while sitting on the potty…then there’s farting when you’re still new to each other.
Too much intimacy too soon is a huge turn-off.
In my 30s I dated a divorce lawyer and he reminded me of Charlotte’s Harry. There were no boundaries or sense of propriety. Harry is actually a much more lovable guy when I think about it.
What an experience…could be a sitcom episode…funny how there was no spark in the relationship and whole situation just sucked you in deeper and deeper…at least it only lasted one day…!!
I know, Jim. I felt obligated.
I am enjoying your writing so much! This weekend I caught up in the archives. You would be a great chic lit author which I love to read. When you get a book published I will buy it for sure. Can’t wait to read about your next online dating experience!
Judy, that means a lot to me. Thank you.
And to think – probably – there is another “can you top this story” still in your 2012 future. Amazing! Hilarious! A bit disgusting!
Absolutely newsworthy…
I know, Rod. What next?
Hi Melani – I agree that the whole ‘balls out’ experience was too soon, even after three dates. Maybe I’m being too conservative here but I’m a guy I still think it’s ’2 balls 2 soon’. As for the chemistry? I’,m in your court. I also think sometimes it’s cool (and exciting) to enjoy the opposite sex purely on platonic terms. Have patience and enjoy the ride!
Thanks, Trev!
Your heart will let you know. Just be sure the brain has some say in the matter so you don’t end up with a psychopath.
Asking you to pick him up after surgery was a bit much. He could have hung out at the hospital until his daughter could get there. Plus that’s bad form on his part for even asking you.
It did seem a little presumptuous even though he didn’t ask–just hinted rather obviously.
AAGGHHH, what a horrible situation. But truly hysterical. When my ex had his wisdom teeth removed he had been grabbing all the nurses boobs…they said to me “good luck with that one” as I helped him into the car from the wheelchair. It just gets better and better Mel.
Oh I laughed at this one…too funny…unless it’s happening to you…But I have to say, I think it terribly unfair that you were put in those awkward positions by the medical field, because you were a friend who volunteered to “see him home” after surgery. What if you were a sister or aunt? There are boundaries and I think seeing intimate body parts and squeezing someone into their tighty whiteys steps over the line. Poor guy…he probably was embarrassed, but then again, he should not have guilted you into being his ‘next of contact person’…
Tracey, I do have to say that I believe he told them I was his girlfriend. There’s no other explanation for the nurse assuming I would be OK with dressing him. I doubt she’d have said that to his daughter. He is a very decent man and I know it was humiliating for him as well.