Previously on “My Canadian Guy”, “Ray”, announced that he was driving through New York and he was anxious to see me. Find out what happened when he finally visited!
The date that Ray was to arrive to see me was fast approaching. Our text messages became frequent. There was a lot of fantasizing still being shared between the two of us. The setting of these fantasies were no longer in a hotel room or his apartment. They were now in my apartment: on my couch, in my bedroom. We imagined our first reactions as I would open the door to my apartment to let him in. Would we immediately embrace each other? Would we be too nervous to even hug each other? As much fantasizing as we did, however, there were also the occasional “heart-to-hearts” about his leaving Canada. He lived fairly close to his mother and one evening he wanted to “talk” about how emotional her last visit with him was. She wanted to make sure he’d be all right and that he would come back to visit. I have to admit that I felt honored that he chose to share that with me. I wasn’t sure if, by nature, he was just an open guy but I really felt that we had a special connection. He “spoke” of our connection before and I always reminded him that practically anybody can get along via text messaging. Now that we were going to see each other in person, I was starting to feel like he was right.
BUT I wasn’t living in fantasy land! I was still very aware of his age, his reason for coming and the fact that we were both at very different stages in our lives. Now he knew how old I was at one point but the difference in our ages never came up again. There were times during our messaging he’d write something that made it clear that he didn’t realize I am in my forties. I wasn’t hiding it from him; he just never asked.
The days before he left Canada, we were in constant communication. He kept me abreast of when he crossed the border and then as he drove into New York. At one point, as we were texting each other, he wrote: “I’m worried about not getting hard for you.”
That was interesting. “Why would you not get hard?” I asked. He responded, “Nerves affect it.”
Hmm. I wondered if that had happened to him before but, for some reason, I didn’t feel right about asking him. Then he added: “I don’t think it will be a problem once you touch me ;)”
Of course, I responded with the appropriate words of consolation, telling him that I was so sure he had nothing to worry about.
In preparation for his arrival, I made sure my apartment was presentable and my sister graciously made herself scarce. I gave him my address and he texted me that he was on his way. He was on his way!! I kept myself busy with Facebook and Instagram in my anticipation of this young man who I had not seen in over two years! He texted me. He was two blocks away. He texted me again. He was parking. He texted me: “I’m approaching your building.” I looked through the window as he walked up, and though it was two seconds, I concluded that he looked better than his pictures…
…and he did. I opened my apartment door to find a thin and tall young man with facial hair in the form of a beard and moustache standing before me. He had on a cardigan sweater over a t-shirt (it was an unseasonably warm day in mid December), and I can’t remember if he had on jeans or a pair of slacks. I let him into the apartment and we nervously smiled at each other. “Finally!” I said, laughing because I did not know what else to say. “Yup. It’s been a long time,” he responded. He reached down and gave me a hug and we kissed cheek-to-cheek. The next few minutes were nerve-racking as I looked through so many menus to see what we were in the mood to eat. He suggested that we put the menus away for a while and talk on the couch. I sat next to him and we talked briefly about his experience going through the border and meeting people from New York and how scary it was for him to drive in New York. I’m not quite sure when it happened but we started kissing each other and yes, it was fabulous! His lips were soft and he moved his tongue gracefully around my tongue inside my mouth. We moved in a perfect rhythm of familiarity, my hands on his face, his hand moving up my leg. It wasn’t long before we proceeded into my bedroom where we were finally going to enjoy each other the way we’d been imaging it for two years!
But what happened in that bedroom was nothing more than a disappointing encounter with a young man whose fear was unfortunately actualized. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it just wasn’t happening for him. He assured me that it wasn’t me; that he was sometimes afflicted with this unpleasant predicament. Though we tried a number of tactics for the next few minutes to help him, nothing worked. We hesitantly gave up after some time. I wanted to prevent him from feeling too badly about what didn’t happen. We lied down next to each other and engaged in random conversation and it felt comfortable. I had to admit that everything he talked about was incredibly interesting. After about a half hour, we put our clothes back on, ordered food and had one great conversation after another. He really was a fascinating guy with a lot of interesting things to say, and again, everything with him felt so comfortable. But the entire time, I couldn’t help but feel cheated! Two years of sexting and fantasizing and picture-sharing led to this? I didn’t understand why it happened that way. And before I knew it, he was saying good bye! He was leaving! I thought we’d at least take another crack at it! Was he embarrassed? Was he trying to run away from a humiliating experience? I can’t imagine what it must be like for a man who can’t perform after so many months of textual foreplay.
We took a selfie just before he left.
It saddens me that we haven’t communicated since that unfortunate experience. I texted him on Christmas Day and received no response. Then, I texted him on New Year’s Eve to simply say hello and again, nothing. There are a number of stories I can attach to him not texting me. Perhaps he’s too ashamed of not being able to follow through with all of his fantasies. Maybe I just didn’t turn him on like he thought I would. It could be that he was turned off when he finally learned my age. Or what if he’s just having a good time exploring his new freedom in a state he’s never been to and him not reaching out has nothing to do with me? One can only speculate in the absence of truth- something I haven’t attempted to get from him because of my fears of being cast aside.
We’ve gone months prior to this without even communicating, so us not “talking” should not be out of the ordinary. What makes me uneasy about it, however, is my fear that the failed attempt at intimacy could have possibly ruined our blossoming friendship. And because I find myself actually caring about this guy, I’m hesitant to reach out to him in fear of saying the wrong thing. I just want him to know that I wasn’t disappointed with him– just the situation. And I want him to know how much I truthfully enjoyed his company that day.
So there you have it: the true account of my Canadian guy. This is yet another regrettable story to be filed under the ever growing “dating disasters” chapter of my single life.