The Inflight Boyfriend

It was on a flight from California to New York that I met Miguel. I had claimed him during boarding as my I.F.B. or “inflight boyfriend” (which is a term flight attendants use to describe the boys or men we find attractive and secretly hope to flirt with during the flight.) He was tall dark and handsome, and dressed in a suit, (which was a bonus since I’m a sucker for a man in a suit.)

After we’d taken off, I was disappointed to see that he was completely knocked out. He was so fast asleep that when I walked through the aisle, and accidentally kicked him in the leg so hard I was certain I must have broken a bone, he didn’t even budge. Then, when I walked through later, his long leg was once again in the aisle and I accidentally kicked it again even harder. Oops! I opened my mouth to begin apologizing profusely but he was still out cold.

An hour later, while walking through the aisle, I saw that my I.F.B. was finally awake. I asked him if his leg was sore, and when he looked confused I explained the encounter I’d with his leg while he’d been passed out. I told him I was shocked he hadn’t woken since I’d kicked him so hard…twice. He laughed and told me he wouldn’t hold it against me. I asked if I could bring him a cocktail as a peace offering for roughing him up, but he declined. He said he’d had quite a bit to drink at the wedding he’d just come from and needed to recover. I told him, in my most flirtatious tone, to let me know if he changed his mind.

A while later I was in the galley chatting with my coworker about my I.F.B, and telling her it was a shame I'd more than likely never see him again. While there were plenty of attractive men on our flights, most of them didn't usually ask us out. Just as I was complaining about this fact, my I.F.B walked up right behind me. My coworker stifled a giggle and made an excuse to leave us alone. He formally introduced himself, his name was Miguel, and then he proceeded to ask me out to dinner. I was thrilled. I said I’d love to and gave him my number.

A couple of days later Miguel called and we made dinner plans for the following evening. We met at the restaurant and I almost didn’t recognize him out of his suit. He still looked cute, but in his t-shirt and flat rimmed ball cap, he appeared to be about 10 years younger then I’d originally guessed he was. When I asked, he told me he was only 23, but said he truly felt age was just a number. I wasn't completely sold on his 'age is just a number' theory, but he was charming on our date, and a gentleman when he paid the bill. We ended up having a great evening and we even made plans for the weekend. His friend was having a party and I told him I’d bring my single girlfriend Taylor.

On the night of the party, Taylor and I got decked out in our party dresses and heels. I told her there should be some cute single guys there to mingle with so she was excited. That is until we got to the “party.” We walked in and my first realization was that we were ridiculously overdressed. Miguel’s original suit attire had been deceiving, because he apparently had a uniform of a t-shirt, ball cap, and sneakers. As did everyone else there, (and when I say everyone I’m referring to the 5 other people that attended.) Miguel greeted me with a kiss and I introduced him to Taylor, who was shooting me a look that said: I cannot believe you dragged me to this, you owe me big. (I’d known Taylor for years and we’d become very good at having full conversations without speaking a word.) I shot her a look back that said: I know, I’m so sorry, we won’t stay long I promise.

Miguel asked if we’d like a drink, and in unison Taylor and I too quickly said, “Yes please!” (One of the other things I loved about Taylor was our mutual appreciation of alcohol, especially when it was needed to assist in an undesirable situation such as this “party.”) Miguel had us follow him to the backyard where he pulled 2 cans of Bud light out of a cooler, which was located next to the beer pong table. Oh holy f*ck, I’m at a frat party. And really beer in a can?! Sigh. I refused to make eye contact with Taylor, who was now pinching my arm, since I knew exactly what her look was going to say. I was determined to try and make the best of the situation, so I finished my can of beer and dragged Taylor with me on a hunt for some real liquor, while Miguel was busy setting up for beer pong. We found a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen and proceeded to down enough to make us forget we were about to play beer pong in heels.

After the night of the "party," I decided Miguel was just too young for me and I was going to blow him off. He didn’t make it quite that easy. He could tell I wasn’t thrilled with his age, the party, etc., and insisted I let him take me to dinner again. He was very persistent so I finally agreed. I began to think I may have been wrong to judge, that perhaps despite his age and attire, he was a guy worth giving a chance to. Then I met him at the restaurant he suggested for our date, and walked into a “Taco Tuesday” themed night where the tacos were 3 for a dollar, and drunk people were already spilling their beers on me as I walked by. When I found Miguel he gave me a hug and introduced me to his friend from work, who was apparently joining us for dinner. Umm, first of all, tacos aren’t dinner and not only does inviting a friend from work make this no longer a date, but this friend was a female who had the most obvious crush on him. Really?! Why did I agree to this and why was the double shot of tequila I’d ordered not here yet?! After enduring as much as I could take of feeling like a third wheel on my own date, I told Miguel I had to get home. He looked slightly surprised and told me he’d call me later.

Miguel did try calling but I never called him back. I decided I’d prefer to carry on solo in my journey of finding a man who: A) doesn’t look like he rides a skateboard to work, B) agrees that 5 people playing beer pong is NOT a party, and C) who understands that a date is not an appropriate place to invite a female coworker who clearly wants to see you naked.

The Kiwi (Part 3)

As I landed on the ground I felt horrible pain in my leg, so I was pretty sure I was alive, but was convinced my leg must be broken. Ted came running over asking if I was o.k. I couldn’t respond with anything other than a moan. Ted’s dad wasn’t quite as sympathetic. I heard him say, “Give her a minute, just give her a minute, she’ll be fine.” When I finally opened my eyes, all I wanted to know was what happened to my leg. Despite the fact that several men were standing all around me, I stood up and said, “I’m sorry, but I need to see what happened to my leg,” as I proceeded to drop my pants. I was reminded then, by the breeze hitting my ass, that I had chosen to wear thong underwear that day. The men quickly turned their heads away, and I heard the farm hands snickering, but my focus was on my leg which did not appear broken. Thank God. There was a huge lump and bruise forming which, as the day went on, turned black as night and covered my entire thigh. Needless to say the horseback riding was done for the day. Ted’s dad drove us back towards the house, stopping along the way to herd in a few sheep. Not only did he seem unconcerned about my leg, but he had Kylie and I help guide a few sheep into their proper place. I wasn’t the biggest help with the huge limp I’d now adopted, but we were guests on the farm, so I didn’t want to be rude.

Over the next few days Kylie and I decided to go off on our own for 2 weeks without Ted. I figured I owed her some girl time. She’d been such a good sport about the new relationship I was devoting most of my attention to. We rented a car and mapped out the towns we would stop and stay in. The first destination we’d picked was a pretty far drive. We decided we’d save money on a hotel by driving straight through most of that night and sleeping in the car for a while when we got tired. When it got too dark on the roads (which didn’t have street lights) we decided to pull over, park, and try to sleep. With the car off it was absolutely freezing. We must have put on every piece of clothing in our suitcases, and about 5 pairs of socks each, but it barely helped. We concluded if we wanted to stay warm without leaving the car running all night, we’d have to cuddle. So that’s what we did, and through chattering teeth we swore to never again discuss this night. We also promised we’d book hotels for the rest of our trip.

When I woke up in the morning, I sat up to see where we’d parked, and saw children peeking in to look at us. Oh crap, where the hell were we? I saw the sign and quickly realized we were parked in front of an elementary school, not in the parking lot, but right on their front lawn. I woke Kylie up and started the car. We drove off just as the teachers were walking over to reprimand us.

Over the next 2 weeks, I called Ted often and we discussed how much we missed each other. When the 2 weeks were finally up, we joined Ted again, this time at his friend the Reverend’s house. Kylie warned me that if the Reverend turned out to be boring and preachy we were leaving again on our own. I agreed. The Reverend turned out to be a blast. Before we’d even put down luggage he was handing us stiff cocktails. By the end of the evening he had started a living room dance party and encouraged us to follow suit as he skinny dipped in the Jacuzzi. He was already an excellent host in my book.

The next day Ted had to go visit with his daughter. He kissed me goodbye and said he’d see me later that night. When Ted returned I instantly sensed the change. He was cold and distant. When I asked what was wrong, he said he’d had a conversation with his ex he didn’t feel like discussing, but that nothing was wrong. Liar. The next few days became torturous. The Ted that adored me never returned. He continued to pretend nothing was wrong, yet he wouldn’t make eye contact, or kiss me, or do any of the endearing things I’d grown accustomed to. I was completely heartbroken. Kylie tried talking to him and, though he wouldn’t tell her much either, she concluded it had something to do with his ex and his daughter. That maybe she'd heard about his new relationship and perhaps wanted him back, or made him feel guilty. Kylie also thought he seemed scared about his developing feelings since he knew we’d be leaving soon. I knew it would have been tough to maintain any type of relationship, being from opposite ends of the earth, but I was willing to do whatever it took since I believed I’d found what I was looking for with Ted. I didn’t want to show my hurt and disappointment, while he seemed to be managing just fine, so by day I pretended to be happy and at night would cry myself to sleep. Kylie knew how I truly felt and suggested it might be time to head home. I gladly agreed and we set up our flight.

Our last day in New Zealand was spent at an annual wine and food festival the Reverend insisted we go to. I decided I wasn’t going to let Ted ruin my last night in this beautiful country and made sure I drank enough wine to pretend I didn’t notice all the girls he was flirting with. Kylie and I had a blast with the Reverend, and even managed to encourage him to get a tattoo at one of the booths. He agreed and decided he’d get it on his ass, since he could hide it that way if he wanted to. He even let us pick it out. I suggested a dove holding an olive branch, since it was holy. I told him if Reverends in America were more like him I’d probably start going to church.

Towards the end of the festival, I sat by myself and watched the sun setting over the gorgeous green hills, and reflected back on the adventure I’d had here. I decided maybe it was for the best Ted had shut me out. While this country was stunning, I enjoyed living where there were more people than sheep, and I realized I deserved a man who would care enough to be there for me in a way Ted was obviously incapable of doing.

The next day we said our goodbyes. Ted pulled me aside and apologized for the way he’d acted, told me he'd been scared of the feelings that had developed since I lived so far away. He asked if he could keep in touch. I told him I would’ve appreciated this apology a lot more if it had been a week earlier, and that it was probably best at this point if we went our separate ways.

On the flight home Kylie asked how I felt about everything. I told her I felt great, and it was the truth. I would always remember this as one of the most amazing and memorable trips I’d ever taken, and Ted was a part of it all, so I’d always be thankful for that. I did, however, decide from then on that if any kiwis were going to be in my future next time I’d stick to the fruit.

The Kiwi (Part 2)

The next morning Ted picked us up bright and early and, when he saw our luggage, said he wondered if we’d left anything back home in America since it was obvious we’d brought nearly everything we owned in these suitcases. To avoid any further sarcastic commentary, we didn’t tell him we had 3 even larger suitcases we were temporarily leaving in Auckland at the place we’d been staying. He stuffed them into the back with his assortment of pots and off we went.

We drove south and the drive was stunning. I had never seen so much green. Or sheep. New Zealand had more sheep then you could possibly imagine, far more sheep then people. It was borderline disturbing. We stayed each night at a hotel on the way down to the farm, courtesy of Ben’s pot selling job. We all had a blast together, and Ted and I really started to connect. We became sort of an instant couple. When he began to feel really comfortable with us, he shared some important news. He had a 3 year old daughter from his ex-wife. And there it was: The baggage. I knew there had to be something wrong with my seemingly perfect-thus-far kiwi. (You’d think living on opposite sides of the world would have been enough for me not to let myself get attached, but apparently I was oblivious to red flags.) I decided I was o.k. with it since he seemed like a good father and we were so smitten with each other. I was having the time of my life. At one point Ted and I were discussing the topic of love and he told me I was someone he could definitely fall in love with. Uh-oh, now he’d done it. I was officially falling for my kiwi.

We finally made it to his father’s farm, which was different then any farm I’d ever seen in the states. When we first arrived, Ted took us for a ride out into the picturesque green rolling hills and stopped in the middle of one. He told us to be quiet and look to our left. We did and saw a pack of wild horses running right by us so close I could’ve reached out and touched them. It was stunning and I couldn’t help but gasp while Ted smiled at me and hugged me tightly. I was in heaven and already wondering how I could commute to my job in the states after I’d moved to New Zealand.

Later that day Ted’s dad was taking us horseback riding. When he asked us if we’d ever ridden a horse before Kylie quickly said no. Thinking it’d seem impressive to Ted, I unfortunately decided to be cocky and say that I’d done it many times before, and was a great rider. I had to mention that when riding I’d always liked to gallop ahead of everyone else because I loved riding fast. This was true but I’d only done this on trail horses, horses that were used to strange people riding them constantly, and it had also been years since I’d even sat on a horse. Me and my big mouth. I found out later that the horse they gave me to ride that day was known to be crazy and mean. The only reason they let me ride him was because: A) they thought I was a skilled rider and: B) they thought the horse was tired out from a long day and therefore wasn’t as dangerous as he normally would have been. They were wrong on all accounts.

Kylie got onto her horse, which was safely contained inside of a round fence, and was content just riding her horse in slow circles. Ted helped me up onto “crazy horse” and asked if I was o.k. I told him of course I was, that I just needed to get my bearings since it had been a while. Before that could happen crazy horse immediately sensed I had no clue as to what I was doing and panicked. He started to trot up the hill quickly. I began feeling a little nervous and tried to guide him back down. He wouldn’t listen to me, all he knew was that he wanted this foreigner off of his back. We were now at the top of the hill looking down at Ted, his dad, a couple of farm hands and Kylie trotting around in circles. Then it happened. Crazy horse started galloping down the hill towards them all as fast as he could with me on his back, my arms flailing wildly in the air, bouncing around trying desperately not to fall off, and screaming in a high pitched way that was more than embarrassing. We were getting closer and closer to the fence and crazy horse was not slowing down. Oh holy f*ck, he’s going to jump the fence. As we got to the fence I braced myself and closed my eyes, but at the last second he made a sharp right turn and stopped suddenly, sending me flying off of his back, onto the fence, and then onto the ground.....To Be Continued