The year was 2016. The world was still spinning, TikTok didn't exist, and Pokémon Go had turned every park into a battleground of awkward flirtation and battery packs.
That weekend, Felix did something most guys I talked to never did. He came to visit me.
Most of my dates back then lived in bigger cities. More food options. More distractions. More everything. I usually drove to them, because frankly, there wasn't much going on in my hometown besides a Fall Festival, a few peacocks that randomly escaped from the zoo, and a population of about 12 people.
But Felix? He drove down.
We met at the city park. I wore shorts and a tank top that tried a little too hard, but in a cute way. He wore sneakers that had clearly been through multiple Gym battles. We were both Team Mystic! Blue gang for life! We wandered for hours, hunting Pokémon, spinning Pokéstops, and defending Gyms like it was a full-time job.
There was something... easy about him. He wasn't loud or showy, just calm and present. The kind of guy who says "Wow, you're tall" and actually means it as a compliment.
After looping the park a few times, we walked across the street to one of my favorite local spots. A tiny pink soul food shack that served the best fried chicken.
He'd never had soul food before. I told him to get the meatloaf. I got fried chicken and peach cobbler because I have taste.
We shared everything: greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, mashed potatoes. He took one bite of the cornbread and just stared at it, like it had personally offended him with how good it was.
But the peach cobbler?
That man ascended.
He leaned back in the car like he'd just seen the face of God. "This," he said, holding the fork dramatically, "is spiritual."
After the food coma settled, we sat in his car and talked. For hours. Just talking. No pressure. No pretending. Just sticky fingers, old-school R&B playing softly through the speakers, and long glances that asked permission before anything happened.
And then... we made out. Like horny teens. Clumsy and sweet and a little breathless.
But that was it. Just kissing. A whole summer's worth of sexual tension packed into one hot July night in a park parking lot.
And honestly?
It was perfect.
I remember thinking, Maybe this could turn into something.
But the next weekend, Felix texted me.
"Hey, I wanted to be honest with you. I met someone else. I really enjoyed our time. It meant a lot. You're amazing."
And you know what? I believed him.
Yeah, for a minute I was bummed. But even good kisses can end in goodbye. And honestly? I'd still fight a Gym with him any day.
Not every story has to end in disaster to be real. Sometimes a good date is just a good date. Sometimes the guy is sweet, and the kiss is lovely, and the peach cobbler is still the best part of the night.