Take Care

He had never heard of The Pixies and sometimes pronounced his "th's" as "f's" and yet...

He lived in a share house with two other men and no communal furniture and yet...

He wasn't "her type", not really. And seemed even less so, in the flesh compared to his profile pictures; With his sports cap and little fuzzy ponytail.

And yet..

Here she sits. A woman come undone. Just like all the rest.

She finds herself sniggering at this thought. At the way she was so smug the first time she ventured into the fray of online date. She's not different after all. Everyone is special and no-one is.

And here she is feeling played by a player. But was he? She thought she would know.

The first date with the first man goes well. Very well. He declares his love after three weeks.

Her friend raised her eyebrows when she showed her the text messages. "Erm..." her friend was trying to be diplomatic. "This is pretty full on. Dare I say red flag....ish?" her friend winces and shrugs. "I mean, he doesn't even know you."

"But" She argues. "It was electric, oh my god, the chemistry! I mean people do fall in love at first sight. All the time, right?" She is high on endorphins and not sleeping.

Her friend tries to explain, "Yes, true, this happens but to say it so early...yeah...I don't know..."

"But I feel the same way!" She says. She's feeling giddy and hasn't eaten all day. She feels slightly nauseous but can't stop grinning.

Her friend is a good one and proceeds carefully. "Ok, well that's good then. Trust your gut. I hope it works out."

It doesn't. A lesson learned.

So she stays clear of "The Love Bomber".

The next guy is refreshingly calm. He is...nice. He makes her laugh, their politics align. They like the same books, movies and music.

He's cute.

On their following date, she can't work out whether he has got better looking or less. She feels like she is performing. They kiss. Is there a spark? She doesn't know. God, maybe the first one ruined her.

On the fourth and fifth dates she has to concede she's just not into him. Don't get her wrong. She doesn't want what happened with the first one. All that pressure. This guy though is nice...so she ends it.

She takes herself off the site for a while. To recalibrate.

A couple of months later, in a moment of merry boredom whilst sitting one day on the deck as the kookaburras from the creek laugh along, she reactivates her account.

He is younger. Quite a bit younger. Like her profile, he doesn't say anything. Just a mix of photos of him having fun and being silly. She likes silly. She swipes and matches. She feels the dopamine spike.

Then he messages and it's so...easy. No gushiness, he's cool. She likes how he sends a slew of one line texts. He's funny. They bond over food and cooking. He goes silent and she thinks "Ah well.." and concentrates on some of her other matches. He gets back and they go out for a quick late night drink in the city.

He has a sports cap on and has never heard of The Pixies and yet...

As they talk there is a magical feeling. She smiles. She can't stop smiling and neither can he as they look into each others eyes. They go outside for a cigarette and can't stop talking. She hasn't felt this feeling for a long time. She feels like she is standing with her partner in crime. With someone who has got her. It's hard to explain. She's no Love Bomber so these feelings stay close to her chest.

They kiss but it's a quick friendly kiss.

She's not quite on Cloud 9. Which is actually a good feeling. She feels grounded yet joyful.

He doesn't text a lot which she realises she likes. She knows she will hear from him and she does....when she does. It's good. They tell each other how much they like how chilled out they are.

They continue to see each other. He is kind. He is smart. He feels safe. Her feelings are growing quickly. She remembers The Love Bomber. Are these feeling real? Can she trust herself?

That night she has a dream that is clear as a bell when she wakes up.

She is sitting opposite a majestic elder woman with long white dread locks. They are in a cafe in her dreamscape neighbourhood. A place that doesn't exist in her waking world but is so familiar and detailed here. She loves it when she visits so feels like she's worked out how to pay special heed.

They are having coffee and she's asking the woman about love.

The woman tells her to beware the men who tell you they are in love with you too quickly. She thinks - even in her dream - "Yep. No shit Sherlock." She was hoping for something more profound.

They continue to talk (of what, she can't remember), then they circle back to love. The woman repeats herself. "Be wary of the men who declare their love for you after a short time. Except the ones who are telling the truth. There are no rules. Everyone is special and no-one is."

This is what she writes in her little black book. She's sure she is extrapolating wildly.

The weeks go by in a blur. She is a busy woman with kids and a life but she continues to see him. Her feelings grow and grow. She feels his are too but nothing is said.

Ask no questions, tell no lies.

After each time, she wonders if she'll ever see him again. Occasionally they will make future plans but mostly not. She is kept on her toes but feels a calming trust.

Until the last time.

When he left her he seemed distracted. When they said goodbye he thanked her profusely for the dinner; the night.

For the first time she feels slightly panicked but she puts it away.

Here she is. A woman undone. Just like all the rest.

Wondering whether the fucker is going to call. Wondering what is going on. No-one is special.

She tells herself to move on. It's just about pushing through. She tries to kid herself that this was just like the other times. She felt the same way about them. She's doing well but there are moments where the thought of him just breaks her. In the supermarket, she had to gulp back a sob when she remembered his eyes.

It's been two months since she saw him now. She's getting better. Up until a month she had to resist the urge - almost daily - to text him. Now it's only weekly. She is not back online but feels like she is almost ready to enter the fray again. She's thinking less and less of him so when she hears the message alert and sees his number, she opens it with hardly any emotion.

"Hi.

I'm sorry for not being touch.

I've been wanting to but you're probably better off without me.

I'm going to tell you something and then I want you to delete this message

If you go to that spot where we went to near the creek at your place you'll see a navy bag just behind that rock we sat on.

Take it to the police. It won't be claimed. I can tell you that.

I believe it's yours after three months.

Take care. x"

Any excitement she feels - it must be money right? - is taken away by that last line. Take care.

It means she will never see him again.

It takes her a few days until, one fine morning, she makes her way to their spot. Tears of nostalgia and longing run down her cheeks at first but then, as she draws closer, a thrilling excitement takes over. An adventure with this guy to the end.

She finds the bag, it's hidden well. She opens it up to find rolls of hundreds and fifties As she counts it out to $20,000 she wonders if he had touched these notes. She kisses some of them and realises she didn't even know his last name.

She hoists the bag over her shoulder and makes her way to the Police Station.