The Sexy Guy in the Red Truck

The butterflies in your stomach when you start talking to someone new – it’s like that throw up feeling. Maybe they’ll message back. Maybe they’ll read it and not respond. Maybe they’ll tell you to leave them alone. Gah. It’s awful.

I messaged him anyway. We friended each other on Facebook. He would casually comment on things I posted. Eventually, we started talking a lot on Messenger. On the night before Christmas Eve, we talked on the phone all through the night. I was making Christmas cards, and we talked and talked.

On Christmas Eve, he picked me up at my parents’ house. As soon as he walked around his big red truck, I knew my destiny was sealed. He was it. I found him. Maybe that sounds totally cliche, but he was wearing some snug jeans, a tan Carhartt vest, cowboy boots and the stars were leaping from my eyes.

He was hot. His truck was hot. And he knew how to strap in a car seat without me telling him what to do, so…that was hot.


It was snowing, so we were going to just drive around. Take in the pretty snow in the moonlight. How refreshing – someone totally new. He knew nothing about me. I knew a little about his childhood from listening to his mom’s story. But it was mostly a clean slate.

We drove around, talked and talked. I told him that I had skeletons, and if they scared him off, I would rather scare him off now then wait till we are madly in love. So I laid it all out. I told him about the man more than twice my age as a teenager, being married, leaving, the whole dog and pony show. He didn’t immediately turn around and dump my sorry ass back at my parents’ house, so I figured that was a good start.

Our first date included breaking into someone’s house. Kind of. We were going to go to a Christmas Eve party with his friends…except the friends forgot to tell him that they recently moved. We walked in on a nice family having Christmas Eve dinner. First date. Breaking and entering. Thankfully, they didn’t shoot at us, and they were very kind.

We meandered off to where the friends actually lived, hung out for a while and then he took me home. I’m certain I was grinning from ear to ear the entire time.

We did the new relationship thing for weeks, probably months. You know, where you talk nonstop, all day and night. It was the best. Both of us were coming off of bad relationships, and we were both ready for honest, real, no bullshit partners.

I’m there. I found the right one. But I’m still married on paper, and I still have the fly that won’t leave me alone buzzing around my head.

Thankfully, he was very understanding. I finalized my divorce, and I told Mr. Homewrecker that I was done. For real this time.

If you haven’t put it together yet, my new hot man in the red truck was Zad. He was so patient with me. He walked me through the city for every step of the divorce process so I didn’t have to go alone because I hated driving in the city.

Our start probably wouldn’t be labeled as traditional. And maybe some of the steps were out of order, but life is messy. Lines get blurred. Making beautiful of the mess is where you find happiness.

Share this post

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on pinterest
Share on email