The ICU Guy

I asked him how his Labor Day was, again, no response. We were supposed to get together on Wednesday before I left town for the holiday weekend, but never heard from him then. Before that, on Tuesday, I asked him how his doctor’s appointment went, and nothing. The last I heard from him was Monday; he was headed to the doctor for a follow up appointment and seemed excited about a truck he was going to buy, he text me a picture of it, and I approved! I asked him if he pulled the trigger on it, and, no response. Sometimes my messages were blue, and sometimes they were green. Some showed up as iMessages and others showed up as texts. This wasn’t uncommon being that he lived seventy miles outside of Nashville in a small town with a population under fifteen hundred, and his service was shit in the sticks. It had been like this the last few weeks – playing text tag with a day delay trying to nail down a date to get together again. So weird, he just disappeared?

Just a few weeks ago, both of our faces bounced towards each other indicating a swipe right on both sides! He was handsome, had dark hair, brown eyes, some scruff on the face. He was taller than I and had a picture with a car, his daughter, him and a dog, him in the mountains, him on a motorcycle, and one in camo with a dead turkey – he hunts! The standard profile of a southern boy looking for love. We exchanged messages in the app, and advanced to texts, and then he asked if he could call me. What, who actually calls someone now day?! This is off to promising start. I was headed to the airport for a flight to Houston for the week and told him I’d have a few hours to kill. He was actually at the airport himself working, he informed me. He worked in construction, for a company headquartered out of Seattle, plus-points for anything Seattle related because that increases my chances of ending up back in the northwest, but with a southern gentleman on my arm! He sent me a pic of his work badge. His work badge for BNA. Airport wide access. Surely he had to pass a background check or two to gain all access to the airport. Plus another point for him.

He called. I answered. He had a slow southern drawl, a friendly voice. Conversation came easy for us. We chatted about work, my travels, his daughter, exchanged a few awful dating stories, talked about his cars, how he’s got an old hand-me-down vintage something or other from his grandfather that he drives only on Sundays to church. Church, he goes to church! Another plus. Talked about our families, and what kind of music we liked. I’d be back from Houston on Friday, and we talked about grabbing dinner somewhere downtown and then going to listen to live music should we survive each other over dinner. I had no doubt we’d make it to the music part of the date.

He was quite attentive throughout the week while I was in Houston for work. Wishing me well on presentations, checking in to see how they went, good mornings and goodnights, we talked about movie watching and wine-drinking, and what types of restaurants we liked. He was handling all the details for Friday night, which was nice not to think about, yet exciting to look forward to! He decided on Husk. A bucket list restaurant that I still hadn’t been to. My flight landed at five and dinner was at seven. He offered to pick me up, but I planned to meet him there. Too soon to send him my address!

He sent me a Happy Friday message letting me know he was excited for tonight, and looking forward to meeting me. Husk. Hot Guy. Reservations. Music. Plans on a Friday night! I peeked out my window upon landing to see if I could spot his work truck. I was actually a little excited thinking about tonight! I touched down in Nashville, greeted by the famous brown, beige and gray carpet as I quickly strided to the uber pick-up area eager to get home and get ready. I messaged him to let him know, make sure we’re still on for tonight. I didn’t get a response, but that wasn’t uncommon as his service is spotty. I hopped in the shower, and got dressed in my fanciest jeans, a fun flowy top, did my hair and slid on my sexiest brown boots. I tried to call him – straight to voicemail. At almost seven o clock, still no word back from him. Do I go to the restaurant, hang at the bar until I hear from him? Do I wait? Do I call him again? What about another text? I called the restaurant to confirm the reservation. There was one under his name. What in the actual fuck? I pat myself on the back for showering and getting ready to go out on a Friday night after traveling all week. For getting over the nerves and building up the courage to be my best self and go on another first date. I get dressed in comfy clothes, order takeout, call a few friends, don’t call him again, and call it a night.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I’m in Atlanta for work and am in the middle of a meeting when I see his handsome face decked out in camo, pop up on my phone. Finally! I can’t answer, damnit. He has some serious explaining to do, and I need to know why the fuck did he stand me up?! He sends a text, and I scan it mid-meeting and I see something about the ICU, getting his phone back and can I call you…

I shouldn’t have answered when he called later that evening, but I did. He explains to me over the phone what happened. He just got his phone back and charged again. He just got home from the hospital. HOSPITAL! The ICU. He was taken to the hospital by ambulance after his mother found him passed out in the basement. (Note: he doesn’t live with his parents, but his parents owned a one hundred plus acres cattle farm, and his siblings and himself all have houses on the property. He helps on the farm, when he’s not doing his day job or being a dad.) He was unresponsive at the small-town hospital, and then airlifted to Vanderbilt. He was unconscious for thirty hours before he came back to life. It was heatstroke… Nashville has hot summers. When you work construction as a superintendent, not often do you have to put on a hard hat and do the hard work… in the heat, but that’s what he had to do last Friday. He wasn’t just supervising, he was in the heat, on the tarmac, doing some sort of construction stuff, sweating it all out. He told me he stopped on the way home and got sick but blamed it on lunch. He said he was planning to help his dad on the farm before he was to get ready for our date. The last thing he remembers was laying on the cold floor because he felt so hot and was a little tired. My heart hurt for the poor guy. That’s so traumatic and his daughter, I can’t even imagine. I was sympathetic and consoling and was grateful he was okay. He begged me to give him another chance and to let him take me out to dinner. He said he researched and asked around and picked Husk because it was farm to table, and had amazing reviews. He is a farmer after all, so wanted to support local, yet do something upscale in the city. I conceded and said let’s try for this Friday if he feels better and up for it. I told him to bring his hospital bracelet or discharge papers. 

Repeat everything about last Friday, except I flew in from Atlanta instead of Houston, and decided on a dress with boots instead of jeans. We went for something a little more casual and outside the city. After being in Atlanta for a week, the last thing I wanted to see was car lights, traffic lights, buildings and people. He had sent me a couple options for restaurants on the lakes around Nashville and we decided on Shipwreck Cove out at Percy Priest Lake. It was a twenty-minute drive for me, an hour and half for him. Didn’t feel one bit bad about him driving a little extra after standing me up the Friday before.

I arrive before him and get a good table outside. I hop up on the stool, with a view of the water, and partial view of the band. There’s live music. Yes! I text to tell him where I’m sitting, what I’m wearing and that I’ll take a hug when he gets here, not an awkward nice to meet you handshake. Hell, we’ve already been through so much together, though haven’t even met. He says, “Yes ma’am! I’m on my way!” Another what the fuck. On his way? Why didn’t he say almost there? Because he fucking wasn’t. I shouldn’t have answered. And I shouldn’t have stayed, but I did. One beer and forty-five minutes later… I get another text saying he’s running late, he feels like an ass, had to stop and pick up some medicine, he’s just leaving Lebanon. I should leave. I should pay, leave this place and never talk to this guy again.

He arrives and finds me at my table facing the lake. He embraces me in a strong, warm, apologetic hug. Like we’ve known each other forever but haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s got good broad shoulders. He’s got good jeans on with boots, and a nice shirt. He’s actually as tall as he says he is. His scruff is screaming all the sexy things at me. He’s hot, and he is definitely worth the wait in days and minutes.

He sits down on the stool across from me and our date begins. Easy, natural, just like talking on the phone, except we’re smiling at each other and get to see and breathe each other in. There are no awkward pauses. I learn more about him, his family, how he grew up, what the farm’s like, where he’s traveled to, about the church he goes to. He asks questions about me, I tell him about growing up in Seattle and why I moved to Nashville, that I have a degree in teaching and used to coach basketball, told him about my Labor Day plans to visit my friends in the islands. Time ticked while I was waiting for him, yet suddenly two hours have flown by and it’s time to wrap it up. I’ve had my limit on drinks and have a flight to Detroit in the morning. I’ve got to drive twenty minutes home and he has three times the trek back to the farm. He reminds me that I asked to see his papers and bracelet and tells me they’re in his truck. I walk with him to his truck. We’re walking close, but not quite touching. Are we going to kiss, or hug, or what?! Do I mouth hug him in his truck?! Please just let him slip it in. He’s hot and I like him! Oh the options. I want to do it all. I’ve always wanted to fuck in a truck. We didn’t. It’s still on my bucket list. Husk is too.

He shows me the discharge papers and his hospital bracelet that he cut off just a few days ago. I was convinced that the story was just a story, an excuse of an ass hole man not to get together, chicken out on a Husk dinner date. All those thoughts proven wrong with his evidence of hospitalization. Bless his sweet heart for meeting me for dinner and drinks just days after being released from Vanderbilt. We didn’t kiss, we embraced each other for what felt like forever, but not long enough and he walked with me to my car where we hugged again and said goodbye.

After arriving home and crawling into bed solo, I hear my phone ring and look to see his sexy face in camo on my screen. I answer with a smile and a hey! He had to drive an hour and half home. He was in the car longer than we were on our date. He thanked me for meeting him. Told me I was prettier in person, and he wished he would have kissed me. He said he had the best time and asked when we could do it again. Yes, a second date! Perhaps we could actually get to Husk?! Honestly, I wouldn’t care where we went if we got to go together. I like this boy. Thoughts of weekends on the farm and nights out in the city… all the daydreams started swirling around in my head. I’ve got to stop with my travel so I could spend time with this guy. I’ve got a wedding in Detroit, leave tomorrow and back Sunday night. Then I was gone again for work Monday thru Wednesday, but back for one night, before I left town for Labor Day. Dinner with him Wednesday night it is.

We exchange pictures and texts of our weekends. Me dolled up in my wedding attendee attire. And Him playing with dogs and driving tractors. A whirlwind of a weekend with girlfriends and a wedding, pack and then unpack and pack again, and I was off to the airport Monday morning. I text him to see if he was working out on the tarmac and asked if he could see me wave from my gate?! ICU guy tired himself out over the weekend from the late date night out to doing chores on the farm, he wasn’t at work today. He had a doctor’s appointment and was going to look at a new truck. He sent me pictures of a truck. I sent him a picture of the BMW convertible I wanted. He said He could probably fit it in the truck bed. I almost text back, can you do me in the truck bed, but kept it clean. I approved and encouraged his truck picture and purchase, then airplane mode and off to the Richmond, Virginia for another work trip.

Never heard back from him. Not on Monday after his doctor’s appointment. Don’t know if he bought the truck or not? His phone went straight to voicemail. He was another no show on Wednesday for the date we talked about. I wondered if he was unconscious again. Or was it just the cell reception. Was work crazy busy? Was he out in the sticks with shitty cell service? I thought it odd but wasn’t going to let it ruin my Labor Day for fun travel with friends! I sent him a pic of the beach and asked how is Labor Day was. Still no response. My texts were green, and I was actually a little blue about it.

Marie and I were on the phone catching up over ICU guy, trying to understand the mind of men. Where did he go? Why didn’t he call? What the hell happened? We couldn’t figure it out. So odd, because he was so attentive and complimentary and excited to see me again. He called to tell me I was prettier in person and that our first date was the best he’d been on. I was googling obituaries and hospitals. News articles. Anything I could find. Googling his name and his place of work. His daughter’s name. Marie asked if I was at my computer. She found a picture and said I’d probably be able to tell if it were him or not. She sent me the link.

I clicked it. His sexy scruff face, dark hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders. It was him. It was him standing. Standing in front of a wall. A wall with lines and measurements. It was his fucking mug shot. He’d been arrested and charged with assault, vandalism and domestic violence. He broke a woman’s cell phone and truck window. He ran her vehicle off the road and rammed her vehicle with his. That is not the truck fucking I wanted. I suppose that’s why he was in the market for a new truck. Because he fucked his up. This happened on Monday. He was arrested on Monday. Our date was three days prior on Friday. We were supposed to go out again on Wednesday. He couldn’t text me back because he didn’t have his phone. This is why he wasn’t responding to my texts, nor my calls. He’s been in jail for over a week. My messages were green and undelivered because his phone was off and in the possession of the police department. He’s still in jail because nobody he knows will spend fifty thousand dollars on bail. I thought the ICU story was the most mysterious, crazy date-stand-up excuse ever. I stand corrected. The fact he was arrested might be my craziest, most mysterious date stand-up situation ever. I call him the ICU Prisoner. He’s getting a chapter in my book about dudes and dating, learning opportunities and staying strong.