Getting off to a good start- in one way...

As resolved, I'm posting more frequently. How's twice a day for you? This is a good one though!
I've been in the States since Friday, December 21. In that time I've been reaching out to friends and family in attempts to stay in touch. On Saturday, December 22, an ex reached out to me.
About two months before I moved, my mom introduced me to a 26 year old French guy who was a student at a local HBCU and an employee at our friendly, neighborhood Sprint store. She said he was cute and thought we might have a lot in common. I was mortified at the thought of being setup by my mom, so even though she mentioned him to me several months earlier I'd refused to meet him.
Apparently, she, my aunt, and cousin were all in the store together shopping for phones and he was waiting on them. My cousin noticed his accent and asked where he was from (France via Cameroon). When they discovered that he spoke French, there was bedlam in the store as they exclaimed that I too spoke French and had, in fact, been to France. He was mildly amused, but didn't show more than polite interest until my aunt pulled a photo of me out of her wallet (Who keeps photos of other adults in their wallets unless it's your husband or wife? Why wasn't this guy suspicious of these three wacky women? Who does that? Really?). Upon seeing my photo, he suggested that they bring me by the store to arrange a meeting.
At this notion of a successful setup, my cousin howled with laughter and called me from the back of the store to whisper in hushed tones about how my aunt and mother were trying to set me up with some African at the Sprint store, who "didn't look that bad." Mortified is an understatement for my emotions. I lit into my mom when I got her on the phone afterwards. She denied culpability and shifted blame onto my cousin (who did start it in actuality by being in the man's business) and my aunt. I refused to ever go to that Sprint store again. The subject was dropped for months until my mom broke her phone and we made a run to the store one snowy Saturday morning.
I'd spent the night at my mom's after being out late doing some family bonding. I was wearing dirty clothes (I think I might have even slept in them) and hadn't brushed my teeth (if I recall correctly, we were headed to Walmart to buy toothpaste). Mom says let's just pop into the Sprint store & see what they can do about my phone. We popped in and were greeted by a cute guy who recognized my mom. Apparently he'd waited on her before because anyone who has Sprint know that customer service in not their forte and most problems result in multiple visits to the store. I thought nothing of it & browsed the latest phones. Then, when he went in the back to check on something for her, my mom turned to me and said, "That's the guy Arleen was trying to set you up with." "Well, he is cute," I told her. I still was not interested however, due to my yuck mouth and scraggly appearance. (Although those of you who know me best know that if ever I leave the house that way, I will inevitably meet the hottest guys on the planet who are strangely attracted to my stinky self. Must be the pheromones.)
Mom pulled the death blow when he got back. She declared, "This is my daughter! Remember the last time when I was in here with my sister and my niece and they told you that my daughter spoke French? Well this is her." (Grammar fairy said, "The correct phrasing is 'This is she,' mother." This was however, no time for the Grammar Fairy! I'm busily wished the carpet would engulf my body to take me away from this humiliating situation. Where's Calgon when you need it?) I forced a polite smile and a half wave. He suddenly leaned over the counter, eyebrows raised and said, "Oh, really?" I wanted to die. Then he asked me in French if I spoke French to which I responded yes. He seemed enchanted by my one word reply.
The two finished their transaction as I attempted to melt away.
As we left the store, he gave my mom his card in case she should need any further assistance with her phone situation. Then he told me in French that his number was on the card and that I should call him if I ever wanted to get together for dinner or something. He walked us out of the store. My mom gave me an I-told-you-so look.
When we got to the car I chuckled as I told her what Casanova said. She handed me his card. (Since when is that an ok thing for a mother to do?!?!)
I didn't call him until several weeks later when a friend stood me up for a Les Nubians concert. Stuck with two tickets, I searched for another French speaker who might like to accompany me. Mom suggested him of course, so I called just to see. He was previously engaged, but insisted that he make it up to me by taking me to dinner the following night.
We had a magnificent time. We ate steak, spoke a lot of Franglais, laughed, flirted, and discussed everything from our childhoods to life in France. Then I dropped the bomb on him that I was moving to England in a few months. He was crushed, but excited for me. He insisted that we date until I left. We went out a second time the following weekend. Then he dropped the bomb on me that he was seeing another girl, but liked me more than her. He claimed that he'd love to continue dating me if only I weren't leaving. (Wait a minute buddy, I told you that on date number one. Why are you getting all wishy-washy on me now?) I lamented that life was like that sometimes, and resigned myself to the fact that timing was against us. I didn't call him again, but he called me. Several times in fact. We ended up seeing each other regularly anyway because he would come by my place on his way home from class, or we'd spend an evening on my living room floor with him writing papers and me grading papers. We ate Chinese food, talked politics, held hands. Our non-relationship morphed into a thing. He became my boy toy (26 & in undergrad made me feel like I was robbing the cradle) until I left for England.
Long story short, he called when I got back saying that he missed me & constantly thought of me. He asked to see me. Then, last night, we had a long conversation in which he told me that he married the girl he started dating after me, but wished I been here because he wanted to make a life with me (He included the words "you probably would have been pregnant by now" in his sappy speech. Yikes! Can we at least date exclusively before I'm forced into child bearing please?). Now I know you're thinking, like I was, WTF? Apparently that whole sexy accent thing became an issue as he was not a US citizen and needed and American wife to stay here.
Can we all say disaster averted? That could have quickly spiraled out of control for me had I not moved to England. You all may have been guests at my shotgun wedding and preparing to throw me a baby shower right about now (oh yeah, he took it there too!).
Very hot guy. Into me for all the wrong reasons- again. Now wants me to be his long distance, international mistress in his unhappy marriage. No thanks, buddy! That karma is so bad I might be jacked up from even writing about it!

Slacker

I apologize to those of you who enjoy reading my escapades via my blog. I am a slacker. I've been lazy about writing and my laptop had Internet connection problems until recently. That's no excuse for keeping you in the dark, so my New Year's resolution is to be a better blogger. Happy holidays!