.green pear...blue moon.

The other night I met up with an old family friend.

He's a good friend of my dad's and he was actually my high school chemistry teacher, when I was whatever age you're supposed to be when you take chemistry. He was like 23 when I was in his class, so it's kinda weird if you think about it, but actually not that weird that we would be hanging out. To some, maybe, but to my family... not at all.

He called to say he was staying in the Chicago area and wanted to know if I wanted to meet up.


Last I knew, he didn't know I was in the Chicago area, but as word gets around in a small town and makes it all the way to California, where he now lives, he eventually found out.



He told me he was staying with a friend in Wrigleyville, so we decided to meet up around there on Monday night.



I get downtown, we meet up at his friend's apartment, and I wait for him to get ready... it's good to see an old friend. He asks about my family, and of course my dad. When I called my dad to tell him to guess who I was meeting up with, he knew right away it was him... nothing gets past your parents, no matter how old you get.

My dad wastes no time to mess around with him via text message...

"Remember God is watching, and he keeps me in the loop."

We laugh. He tells his friend my dad is a pastor who has been trying to convert him for years. I love that a conversion doesn't have to happen in order for them to be friends. My dad loves this guy, and he loves my dad. He's much like a big brother, and Monday night, my big brother was looking out for me.

Over dinner he asked about life, and I was honest...


"It's hard...


but it's good."


I shared with him why I came to the Chicago area in the first place. I shared with him my story and my faith.

Last time he saw me (3 years ago) back in South Carolina, I wasn't doing too well, but he didn't know that... nor did anyone else. Prior to that I was in his high school chemistry class, dating my high school sweetheart, who often got kicked out of his class. My boyfriend and I were quite different when it came to school... I loved school, but I loved that boy, so I didn't mind him getting kicked out of class.

All over dinner, we talked about old times, good times, bad times, and times to come. The conversation was great, but the story lies in how the night progressed, and what exactly dinner looked like for the two of us...

After leaving his friend's apartment we walk down Clark St. toward Wrigley Field. We pass a few places, most of which closed, either because it is Monday or because of the economy, so we keep walking to explore our options. As we walk, I point out a comedy joint and tell him I have been to a few shows there, in which they do long form improv, and that it's pretty funny. I say there is a show that evening, but it's not one of their better ones, so that alone is my reason why we shouldn't go.

He's still interested in going... "I may fight you on that because I'd really like to see a show..."

I realize I have to be honest...

"OK, here's the thing... that might be kinda awkward for me. You see, there's this guy and we used to hang out, but we don't anymore, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to talk to me, and well, he takes classes there, and it's kinda 'his spot,' and I don't really wanna run into him, I mean I do, but I don't, and it would just be really awkward... for me"

He gets it, and we keep walking. He asks if the bar next to the comedy place is too close to the comedy place, but I say it's fine.

We go in, we sit down, and we order dinner.


This is classic...

He asks what I'm going to order and after I tell him, he says he is going to feel like a woman. After he tells me what he is going to order, I say he should feel like a woman.

I ordered the "Black Angus," a rather large cheeseburger with a side of fries. And to wash it down... a 20 oz. Blue Moon... probably my most favorite beer ever.

Not only did he order a salad, he ordered the "Pear Salad." And to wash all that manliness down... a tall glass of Pino Grigio... probably the most un-manliest wine ever... not that it's not OK for men to drink it, it is... but, you know, there's a time and a place.

I laugh at him, but he laughs too, so we know it's all good. He says he is secure enough in his manhood to order a salad (I remind him it's a pear salad) and a Pino Grigio. I tell him that's good because I'm secure enough in my recovery, and in my womanhood, to order a cheeseburger and a beer (all the while thinking about how I am totally going to blog about this).

The night goes on, and we enjoy our opposite meals, only every now and then distracted by the Patriots playing football behind us.

To give him credit, I didn't finish my whole burger, so I get the rest to go. When we walk out the door he says he'll carry my leftovers because he'd at least like to feel like half a man. I tell him we'll just pretend that he had the cheeseburger. He feels good about that.

We walk back down Clark Street and he says he doesn't know of any other places to go that are still open, and before I think about what I am saying, I tell him about a little cafe I know about where I like to go and get coffee. He asks where it is and I say it's right down the street and I point to one of my favorite little joints with big windows and funky relics... unsure if I actually want to go there.

"Let's go," he says.

I fess up again...

"OK, here's the thing... that also might be kinda awkward for me. You see, there's this guy that works there, who asked me out, and it was really weird, and..."

I stop and think about what I am saying, feeling the need to clarify...

"OK, I realize it sounds like I get around, but I really don't... I've only been asked out twice this year, and one was from the guy at the comedy joint and the other was from a guy at this cafe... so it just so happens that these two places, that I seemed to mention, and that you seemed interested in going to, are actually places that are slightly awkward..."

He laughs before I finish what I'm saying.

"Don't worry about me," he says, "it's not awkward for me... but if you want me to make it awkward for him, I can do that."

I laugh. Then he adds, "but if it's awkward for you, we just won't go."

I think about it... I really would like to go to this cafe. And I've gone there long before that guy even asked me out. And I don't want that guy to be a reason for me not to go anymore. And ultimately, I don't care what that guy (who I don't even know) thinks of me going to "his work" with another guy because I know the truth... I know I'm there with my big brother... so to speak.


And, I think to myself, if it is awkward, it will make for a great story.


I nervously open the door, but we go in and sit down. I feel safe once we make it to our seats. The waiter recognizes me, but fortunately it wasn't you know who... he wasn't working... a sigh of relief.

We sit and enjoy coffee and tea. He tells me about his girlfriend and we talk relationships again.

"Your dad would kill me if I gave you relationship advice," he says.

I laugh, because knowing his dating life, I know he is right.

He hesitates, and all he says is...



"Don't settle. Don't ever settle."


I smile, because I think that is the best relationship advice that someone can give another person.


And I laugh, because my dad would actually agree with him...




"Don't settle. Don't ever settle."