Last week, I met someone.
A few weeks ago, I asked my Facebook network if someone was part of a specific community to meet new people. A friend of mine answered. He wasn’t practicing himself but knew someone he could introduce me to, so he put us in touch.
We decided to meet at an event around the activity we both practice. We talked, danced, had fun and surprisingly got along very well. We spent hours walking and listening to music while discussing how rich and intense life can be. We met again a few days later and enjoyed our time together. It was natural, aligned, and compassionate.
During the week, we messaged each other.
I noticed that something was weird.
When I like someone, I usually send tons of happy messages and hundreds of links for articles, songs, videos or pictures. I’m always sharing the joy.
We weren’t even close to 10 messages a day. I could feel a distance that wasn’t the kind of signal I usually get when I get along so well with someone.
That kind of distance you wonder, “is something is going on here?” when you know precisely what’s going on.
We decide to meet again.
The distance had crossed our phone screens and joined us in the park.
After a casual discussion — when you want to keep talking but it’s not natural because you both know something’s going to come up — he engaged the serious talk and went straight to the point.
Watch: Dating, translated. Post continues after video.
I felt something coming. Can’t deny it.
I thought about asking something like, “do you have a girlfriend?”, “have you had difficult breakups in the past?” or “anything you want to tell me?” that would explain that curious distance.
I mean, come on, my guts were yelling, “don’t you think it’s weird?”. When your guts ask the question, you listen carefully and look for the answer ASAP.