Love Overboard
There is something about a man announcing to the world how he feels, what he thinks about you. It matters not whether a woman is twenty-two or fifty-two, she feels the same. Wanted.
Reed’s announcement on Instagram reached his family, friends, and everyone else to whom he was connected. Suddenly, I received requests from his parents, siblings, cousins, and even his great-aunt. Yes, his great-aunt. Admittedly, I was a bit overwhelmed from all the attention. From LinkedIn to Facebook to Instagram the requests poured in…everyone wanted to connect with Dexter Reed’s #MyEverydayCrush.
“Trish,” I asked her while having brunch one Saturday. “What am I supposed to do with all these requests from people in Reed’s social network?”
“I don’t know. Accept them?” she answered, while smacking on her blueberry pancakes with thick bacon.
“Even his great-aunt?”
“His what?” she choked out, quickly picking up her glass of orange juice to ease the constriction in her throat.
“His great-aunt,” I repeated.
“I thought that is what you said,” she stated. “Aubrey, girl, when you get requests from great-aunts, that’s some serious stuff. How long have y’all been dating?”
“A couple of months or so.”
“Well, what do you think of him? Long-term think, I mean.”
“I really, really like him, Trish. I think I’m falling for him.”
“Well, if you fall, do you believe he’ll catch you?”
I paused. Reed was special. Very special. Undeniably, the man possessed all the qualities that I desire in a man—more importantly, in a life partner. Hmm.
“Yes, I believe he’ll catch me.”
“Well, what’s the problem? You should certainly be able to find out more about him—from the view of others who have known him longer than you. That can’t hurt.”
“But his great-aunt,” I uncharacteristically whined.
“Do you want him or not?”
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.
“Then you get him and his great-aunt,” she teased.
“Hush, Girl! His great-aunt…” I said, laughed, shaking my head. “Never in a million years.”
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Spring pushed through with all the enthusiasm of a rhinoceros getting a colonoscopy...yes, very painfully. Still, love kept blossoming with Reed. The man was wooing, courting, and winning me on every front. I was hard-pressed to find something to dislike about him. Yeah, he had habits that I didn’t care for, but they were minor in the grand scheme of things.
“Aubrey, I’d like to go to Vancouver,” he said while visiting for dinner one evening. We had opted to eat-in since both our days had been exhausting. After stuffing ourselves on some excellent Thai, we were reclining on my comfortable sofa watching a movie on Hulu.
“Okay. When?”
“How’s weekend after next? We can drive up after work and come back Sunday evening.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Great. I’ve always wanted to visit the city, so since I’m here on the West Coast, this is my opportunity,” he said, lowering his voice. “I can’t think of anyone with whom I’d rather share the experience.”
“Awww, Babe,” I softly responded, lifting my head to lightly kiss him on his full lips.
The attraction between us was ever-present. We kissed with the slow exploration of two people who knew that there was no rush to move from one stage to another, but much to be experienced along the way and nothing to be missed.
“I better get going,” he whispered. “I’ve a very full day tomorrow.”
“Okayyyyy,” I whispered back to him.
He cleared his throat, kissed me again, and put on his shoes. Grabbing his jacket, he slid his muscular limbs through the sleeves, making me catch my breath just seeing how handsome and sexy and downright gorgeous he was. Bye, Idris, I whispered in my mind. It’s been real.
“Good night, Ms. Sanders,” he said in his deep, chocolate-melting voice.
“Good night, Mr. Reed,” I returned, closing the door behind him.
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After a week of contractor issues the size of Mt. Rainier, and seemingly equally insurmountable, I was ready for a weekend of relaxation. Reed picked me up from my house, and we were on our way to Canada.
We arrived at our all-suite hotel on Robson Street in time to get dinner and relax a bit. Because it was Reed’s first time in Vancouver, we opted to stay in the center of things. Like most big cities, Vancouver possessed plenty of shops and restaurants for indulgence in various locations across the metro area.
We showered and refreshed ourselves, meeting in the hallway at the allotted time. For a quick dinner, we were going to hit the street and see what we fancied.
“You look wonderful,” he said, leaning in for a quick kiss. He linked his hand with mine and led me to the elevator.
“Thank you. So do you, Mr. Reed,” I saucily replied. “I like this color on you.” He was sporting a burnt sienna shirt with some washed denims and a lightweight navy jacket. Yes, he looked so good. Like chocolate smothered with peanut butter--a tasty treat any day of the week.
We chatted as we walked, taking in the sights. A cosmopolitan city with a visible Asian population, Vancouver offered plenty in people watching opportunities.
“Do you know that Asians have the fashion market cornered on the number of patterns that can be in a single outfit?” I asked him, with a bit of tease in my voice.
He laughingly replied, “You’re being a tad stereotypical in this assessment, aren’t you, Ms. Sanders?”
“You don’t believe me, do you? All right. I’ve a deal for you. If you see ten Asians with more than three patterns in their outfits—top to bottom, not including shoes—before we reach our restaurant, then you owe me…oh, I don’t know. Let me think…okay! You owe me a spa day. A full one.”
“High stakes!” he joked. “All right. You’ve got yourself a deal. Wait. What happens if I don’t see ten?”
“Ummm, you decide.”
“Okay. How about ten home-cooked meals?”
“Reed! You know full well that I hardly cook!”
“It’s not a deal if I can’t get something I want, and I want home-cooked meals.”
“Oh, okay,” I begrudgingly agreed.
“Don’t be like that. You might win your spa day, Babe,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze and winking his eye.
“I better,” I muttered. Now, while I didn’t cook a lot, I knew how to cook. Cooking these days was a matter of time—something which I seemed to lack due to work demands. If he won, his prize was a big deal. For me, anyway.
We strolled, looking at posted restaurant menus along the way, and keeping track of the number of outfits meeting the “deal” criteria. He only had a count of seven, and we had not decided on a restaurant. Three more would keep me out of the kitchen. Come on, Folks. Don’t let me down.
Stopping in a bath shop to browse, I browsed the store’s offerings, holding them so that Reed could tell me what he thought. I selected a couple of items since the shop was not one that we had at home.
At the counter, Reed reached into his wallet, staying my hand’s reach inside my handbag.
“You’re my lady,” he whispered in my ear. “You don’t pay when you’re with me. Haven’t you learned that already?”
I didn’t answer. Not in words, anyway. I reached up and gave him a kiss of thanks.
“That kiss ain’t gonna keep you from cooking, Woman,” he said as we exited the store with the luxurious bath items.
“Really, Reed?”
“Not at all.”
“Ah, there’s outfit number eight! And, what a sight to behold!”
“Aubrey!” he exclaimed.
“Reed! Admit it! You have not—in your entire life—seen those colors and patterns together.”
He bit the inside of his cheek. “Okay, I admit that the combination is a bit…eclectic.”
“Eclectic?” I laughed. “All right.”
“Hmm. This looks interesting,” he said, as we went down a busy side street with some eateries.
I agreed as I reviewed the menu. If I agreed, then I lost the deal. If I disagreed, I’d be thinking about the food for the rest of the weekend. It sounded that good.
“Okay. Let’s eat here.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Reed. You’ll get your ten home-cooked meals. I promise.”
He lifted my chin, leaned down, and said against my lips, “I just want to be with you. Meals or no meals, Ms. Sanders.”
And, bloop, just like that, I was in love overboard.
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Our Saturday was full and quite enjoyable. A trip to the Granville Island Public Market gave us a delicious and fresh breakfast along with some artisanal foodstuffs to take home with us. In addition to the market, we drove around the city taking in the different neighborhoods, getting out to walk when something took our fancy. It was a great day.
That evening, I chose our restaurant for dining. We were going to Vij’s—an Indian restaurant sure to appease the international palate that Mr. Dexter Reed possessed. He was going to love Vij’s.
I dressed in a cream lace top with one shoulder bared and matched it with tight dark jeans and a cute pair of red patent leather strappy sandals. His eyes communicated his thoughts very clearly, while his mouth agreed when it touched mine.
As he drove us to the restaurant, he kept the mood going with some good jazz. The restaurant was busy, as expected, when we arrived. Servers circulated among the waiting patrons with bites from the kitchen.
Once seated, we reviewed the menu. After choosing some appetizers, Reed selected the lamb popsicles, which I knew to be absolutely bone-sucking delicious. I selected the braised short ribs.
Servers moved about the restaurant monitoring patrons, ensuring their satisfaction in only the way a Vij’s establishment could.
“This is delicious,” he said, eating the tasty samosa.
“I thought you might like Vij’s. It’s one of my favorite—if not, my favorite—Indian restaurants. Restaurants, period.”
“If this is any indication, then I may need to add it to my favorites list, as well.”
“Baby, wait until you taste those lamb popsicles! They are divine!” I exclaimed like only a real foodie would.
“Looking around, they seem to be popular.”
“Um hmm.”
Dinner was delicious—from beginning to end—we enjoyed the food, but more importantly, we enjoyed getting to know one another better.
“Do you know, Reed, that your great-aunt Celeste sent me a friend request on Instagram?”
He raised his eyebrow. “She did?”
“Yes, she did. After you posted the pic the other week of our outing to Ballard Locks.”
“Hmm. Well, Aunt Celeste is very well versed on all the social media platforms. It is how she keeps in contact with everyone, since she says that the younger family members don’t call anymore.”
“I accepted her request,” I told him, while eyeing the bit of lamb on his plate. “She’s very active.”
“Uh huh,” he said. With a pause, he continued, “Babe, would you like another bite of lamb?”
“Oh, oh, no, really, no, not really,” I sputtered.
“Aubrey, this may not be the last chicken wing, but it is the last bit of lamb, and I would offer it to you any day—and always.”
My heart leaped like a trapeze artist. This was serious. I was in love with the very handsome, engaging, outgoing, didn’t-mind-talking, rom-com watching, rub-my-feet-at-the-end-of-the-day, would-give-me-the-last-bit-of-Vij’s-lamb-popsicle Dexter Reed.
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I posted a picture of my new love that I took of him while we were at the market on Granville Island. His smile was wide, and anyone could see that the intense look in his eyes was intended for the person on the other side of the camera—me.
AubreySandersArchitect
Keeping me in lamb popsicles @dexterreedDMV and showing me a great weekend in Vancouver.
You had me with the last piece. Anyone who remembers that line from The Brothers is a keeper. #VijsIndian #VancoverWeeekends #MyEverydayCrushToo
Charlesreedwoodmaker
@dexterreedDMV—Son, I taught you well.
janetreedflowers
@dexterreedDMV – Cousin, what’s a lamb popsicle, and why didn’t you invite me to go to Vancouver? I thought I was your girl!!!!!
CelesteImStillAliveAndKicking
@AubreySandersArchitect @dexterreedDMV Dexter, when are we going to meet this young lady? It’s about time you met someone with a head on her shoulders. Bring her home. I want to meet her. Can she cook? I want to try these lamb popsicle things.
Charlesreedwoodmaker
@ CelesteImStillAliveAndKicking Aunt Celeste, behave, please. Please.