Listen. This woman proposed to me at Minute Maid Park. Private tour, my kids and parents as co-collaborators, home plate, the whole nine yards — genuinely one of the most romantic things that’s ever happened to me, and I will die on that hill. Every girl in the world deserves a proposal like that one. The production value alone should’ve come with a trophy. For a minute, it really did feel like I’d won the lottery.
Unfortunately, Yelp reviews are about the whole experience, and the whole experience also included her screaming at my daughter over FaceTime in a bar full of strangers who all suddenly found their drinks very interesting. And then, once we broke up, she transitioned into an unsolicited loyalty program I never signed up for — otherwise known as stalking. Next level obsession that included dropping off Christmas gifts at my parents’ house FOUR months after the break up. Nothing says “I’ve moved on” quite like a wrapped present showing up unannounced on someone else’s porch. A grand gesture followed by an equally grand refusal to read the room. Docking a full 2.5 stars for the customer never being allowed to actually leave.
This one was all passion, all the time — the kind of chemistry that makes you ignore every single warning sign because the sparks are so pretty. Truly a five-star experience, as long as we were in the bedroom. Ask this establishment to deliver anywhere outside of that zip code, though, and good luck.
The problem is you can’t LIVE in the bedroom. Real life is more than chemistry. Real life takes commitment, of which he had none. When life got serious, he got flakey — the kind of flakey where you start wondering if you imagined the whole “we’re a team” conversation. Apparently the level of honesty I brought to the table was intense enough to make him BOLT — leaving his shoes — and his boxers — behind. As if he simply forgot he was supposed to be a full person on the way out.
This taught me that it doesn’t matter how fun you are, how kind, how gentle, how committed. It doesn’t matter your intentions or your hopes for the future. If you cloud all of that with perpetual alcohol, it burns. Period. No amount of charm survives that particular kind of fog, and I stopped waiting around to find out otherwise.
This review contains no character development because there wasn’t any to witness through the haze. His only redeeming quality? Introducing me to Jesse Ware — “Say You Love Me” still gets an involuntary reaction out of me to this day. One star for that alone, purely on soundtrack merits. Otherwise, would not recommend, do not pass go.
The good really was good here — parties, a love for tricked-out Hondas, a guy who flew on a plane he was terrified of, just to see me. The guy who washed my car, and all my friends’ cars, because he knew I loved to watch him — shirtless, hose in hand, absolutely putting on a show for the neighborhood. It felt like the kind of love people write songs about, the kind where every one of my friends had a front-row seat and zero complaints.
Until I came home for Thanksgiving break and walked in on the plot twist nobody ordered. Turns out “absence makes the heart grow fonder” only applies to one party in the relationship, and it was not him. Three stars purely on the strength of the good memories, because they were genuinely good — right up until they very suddenly, very publicly, weren’t.
If we’re just talking heat, passion, and the kind of romance that feels like the plot of a movie — this is a five-star, no-notes experience. The chemistry was unreasonable. Pin me up against the wall of the elevator hot. Genuinely unfair to every relationship that came after it, because nothing sustainable burns that hot.
But he was married. And he wasn’t leaving. Because — and I cannot stress this enough — they never do. Docking one star for the fact that I basically dated a “coming soon” sign for the better part of however long this went on. Some establishments should just be honest and put “permanently closed” on the door instead of stringing you along with renovation updates that never end in a grand reopening.
P.S. I love you Josh.
