The Elevator Frequency - Part 3

We meet for coffee.

It’s simple, low pressure… or at least it’s supposed to be. But the moment I see him again, I remember exactly why that elevator moment felt the way it did.

He’s mesmerising.

The dreads, the way they fall so effortlessly. His dark complexion, smooth, striking. He carries himself with a quiet confidence that pulls you in without him even trying.

We sit down and the conversation starts immediately. It’s fast, energetic, like we’re both trying to keep up with the pace of it. There’s chemistry, no denying that. It flows easily, almost too easily.

Then something small happens.

He calls the waiter over, and his tone… it’s not outright rude, but it’s not kind either. Slightly dismissive. Slightly impatient.

I notice it immediately.

Visibly annoyed, he looks at me. “You did get what I was trying to say right," as if he were trying to justify what had happened.

“Hey,” I say, gently but firmly. “She’s probably had a long day. Don’t do that.”

He looks at me for a second, almost surprised. "I don’t want to ruin this, so I will behave", hands in air, he wins me over with his smile.

He tells me he wants to get to know me more, so I tell him.

I’m single, I say. He interjects, “By choice, I presume?”

I nod and smile.

“I work in media. I’m a writer."

He lights up a little and tells me he used to be a poet. It makes sense. There’s something about him that feels like he’s lived through words before.

We keep talking. About work, life, ambitions. It’s engaging, interesting… easy.

I ask him how old he is.

“I’m about to turn 50,” he says.

I actually pause.

“What?” I laugh, thinking he’s joking.

He’s not.

I look at him again, properly this time. And yes, I can see it now. The lines forming around the eyes. He is definitely older, I can now sense it in his energy, not in a bad way, just… in a way that shifts things slightly for me.

I tell him I have dated older before… he makes a few jokes about that. I like that I can laugh this much around him.

It’s good. He’s interesting. I’m curious.

And then I feel it, that moment where something is about to change. You don’t know what it is yet, but you know it’s coming.

He pauses.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says.

I prepare myself. Maybe a past relationship. Maybe something heavy but finished. He probably has a dead wife, probably widowed. I did notice a sadness to his eyes earlier… 

“I have a wife,” he says.

I go still.

“We’re getting a divorce.”

And just like that…

I’m sitting across from a married man.

To be continued….