Snowflake (Part II)

In April 2015, I was just over a month out of a relationship that lasted too long, with a guy with whom I was pretty fundamentally incompatible. It was an amicable breakup and pretty liberating for me – but that’s a story for another day. I was enjoying my bachelorhood but still somewhat reserved with the kinds of guys that I would pursue.

From a fairly young age, I had a lot of self-esteem issues related to my appearance. Dumb high school Brandon didn’t see any point in wearing his retainers, so adult Brandon has Michael Strahan gaps between his teeth (like, all of them – not just the front ones). High school Brandon was also a nerd who didn’t get much physical activity for a variety of reasons (again a story for another day), and college Brandon lived at home with his loving and generous parents (who cooked all the time), so adult Brandon moved to DC with more than a few extra pounds around the midsection. Couple those with years of being told “sorry, I’m not into black guys” and I generally tread softly around guys.

As a big user of online dating platforms, I’d often find myself attracted to a guy from his profile and his pictures but tell myself “he’s probably not interested in guys like me” and move on without sending a message. I would even hesitate when guys that I thought were too good-looking for me would express interest. A few months after the snowflake landed on my sleeve, one of the personal trainers at my (now former) gym took a shine to me, but nothing ever came of it because I didn’t see why an attractive, fit, muscular man would be interested in a guy whose left couch cushion bears a near-permanent imprint of his ass.

All that started to change one late April day. I was lounging on my couch (probably with my buddy Evan Williams) and browsing one of the gay “social networking” apps. For those of you not familiar, these apps attract all kinds – people looking for instant gratification, people looking to date, people looking to just chat, people looking for attention, internet trolls – and sometimes even come complete with chatbots and fake profiles. Well, this evening, I received a message from what had to be a fake profile or some guy just looking to troll me. I knew it couldn’t be real because the guy that had messaged me was 1) more than 100 miles away, 2) 21 years old, and 3) drop dead gorgeous.

He said that he was going to be spending the summer living in Arlington and interning in DC and wanted to chat with some cool people there before he arrived since he would barely know anyone. Probably a little tipsy and with nothing else to do that evening (plus, let’s face it, I’m pretty much powerless against cute white boys), I started chatting with this young man. I found him adorable in every sense of the word. He seemed youthful and energetic, yet more mature than other younger men I had talked to. Despite looking like the textbook definition of a snobby, stuck up, preppy, pretty boy, he was humble and down-to-earth. He made dumb puns that made me laugh. He was clever, charming, socially conscious, and quite possibly the most handsome man that had ever shown interest in me.

I thoroughly enjoyed  our chat late into the night, but I didn’t think much of it – sometimes it’s nice to just talk to and flirt with an attractive guy, and many guys on these platforms vanish just as quickly and unexpectedly as they appear. I went to bed after saying goodnight. He was a little like the delicate snowflake that had landed on my sleeve roughly a year prior – beautiful and unfathomably unexpected.

We chatted again the next day, and the next, and every day after for as long as I can remember. Within about a week, he told me that he had an interview in DC for summer internships. I told him that it’d be great to actually meet him if he had time when he was in town, but I didn’t expect to – he was only around for a day. I was intrigued by him, but wasn’t holding my breath for anything – I had been playing with house money the entire time.

To say our first date on that interview day was fantastic would be inaccurate – I had never even fantasized about a first date so awesome. The chemistry between us was almost unreal. We spent the entire evening talking, grinning like idiots, and trying to keep our hands off each other (before eventually giving up). I was sad to see him go back for the rest of the month to finish the last semester of his junior year, but had high hopes for a summer romance.

Photo: my friend Evan Williams. Ignore the Woodford branding on the Glencairn glass.