I drive 17 hours to LA from Eugene on boring interstate 5. Now that’s my record of driving solo in one day. I arrive at my cousin’s house Sunday night and crash on the bed exhausted from the drive. I’m meeting M on Tuesday so I have Monday to rejuvenate my body and mind. The original plan is to meet at Rat’s beach at 4pm but I change it to noon. I figured we would play frisbee on the beach since that is our game of choice and just have a relaxing day. I want to see those fantastic abs in motion.
I arrive at the beach at 11:45am and scout the area. I head to the beach and text him that I’m here. No reply. Now it’s 12, then 12:10, 12:20pm no M. I am starting to get agitated. WTF. I text him and I call him, it goes into voice mail, so I leave him a message. Did I just drive 17 hours to see a ghost? Am I at the wrong beach? I don’t know this area. I ask someone and they confirm, I’m at the right beach.
Finally he calls me. He’s upset, he thinks we are meeting at 4. Apparently he forgot about the time change. After 5 minutes of him venting I intervene and tell him it’s okay. He hasn’t showered, he wanted to look good, just came from the gym. Yada yada yada. On a positive note I get to see him at his worst, might as well get that over with. He says he’s driving a van.
I’m envisioning a cool black van, what I see coming towards me is totally different. It’s a blue and white vintage van something that a hippy would drive. He waves to me, parks and gets out. Hmmm. A little different from his pictures, shorter and much older looking that I expected, he could pass for an old man. Time has not been good to him. The only saving grace is his beautiful eyes, smile and abs. We hug and kiss. I close my eyes and I see the beautiful man he was.
We play frisbee for an hour, laughing and being care free, then we walk on the beach hand in hand. I do like him even though he’s not what I pictured. He’s still good-looking, with just more wrinkles. His personality is a lot like mine: a firecracker. I am drawn to him, but I know that being an Actor/stuntman/cowboy has a lot to do with why I met him.
We head back to our cars and he opens up his van to get some water. There is a lot of stuff in it. The truth comes out. He’s the man in the van who lives down by the river. He’s the man who lives in his van. That’s what he meant when he said he was in between apartments. Oy!
My heart stops. Man oh Man. He tells me that he moved out of his ex girlfriends house a few weeks ago and was staying with a friend for a bit but now he’s living in his van until he finds a place. I am a sap apparently. My heart goes out to him. Well while I’m here he’s not going to be living in a van, that would be cruel on my part. He can stay with me.