It’s the Little Things

Photo: iStock

Editor’s note: This is part 3 of a multipart series. Catch up with part 1 and part 2.

I was on a high for the entire week after our encounter.

I got back home to Los Angeles and did everything with a grin on my face. I felt like I was walking on a cloud.


He called every morning to wake me up and start my day on a sweet note. We would then text all day long, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

It was like a high school crush on Dubs—we couldn’t get enough of each other.

He remembered all the little things.

My favorite sneakers are Chuck Taylors, and I have quite the collection. In New York, I told him how I had been hunting down the raspberry color but had not been able to find them in my size.

Days after I got home, a FedEx package arrived on my doorstep, and inside were the raspberry Chucks I wanted.

I told him how I had been so busy at work that I hadn’t had a chance to go grocery shopping or even cook decent meals because I was constantly on the go.


He sent me an gift card (for Prime) and one for Postmates.

He was thoughtful but not corny. He was generous but not a trick.

He just did that, and I loved every minute of it.

He was up front about his intentions and direct in his approach. I have an appreciation for that, because there are so many games being played in the dating world—it can make a single girl dizzy just trying to dodge all the bullshit.


We spent hours baring our souls and confessing our lives to each other. Our likes and dislikes. Our dreams and aspirations.

I spoke openly with him about my nonmonogamy because I didn’t want it to be an issue later. He listened, asked questions and told me he was OK with it.


He said that he was also seeing other people, and we agreed to keep it open and respectful, but that’s what grown-ups do, right?

When he told me he wanted to come to Los Angeles to see me, I wasn’t surprised. I figured it was going to happen eventually. When I told him I was OK with him coming, he booked his trip right away.


Action. It’s all we ever want, right?

He booked a hotel room in Hollywood and told me that I was free to stay with him or stay at my apartment while he was here. My choice.


Of course, I said that I wanted to stay with him in the hotel suite. No way was I going to pass up an opportunity to stay in a fancy room with a deep bathtub and fluffy, comfy bathrobes, getting all the sex I wanted.

I could always go back to my apartment if things went left, but I seriously doubted that they would.


As it turns out, I was right.

To be continued next Friday.

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About the author

Monique Judge

News Editor for The Root. I said what I said. Period.