The Hoth Hunk

“A relationship without communication is just two people.”

- Unknown

Like most functioning humans, I cherish the ability to make informed decisions. While this can mean various things to different people, it holds particular significance for me when it comes to romantic relationships. I need enough information to determine how much time and, more importantly, how much of my heart to invest.

I’d made a fatal error with my recent situationshop by trusting his reassurances of what he wanted with me while ignoring the glaring truths revealed by his actions. After that experience and the debacle with the Duplicate, I was more determined than ever to see people for who they revealed themselves to be rather than who I wanted them to be.

One day, as I swiped through an app out of boredom, a rare superlike from an attractive man caught my eye. His profile claimed he was over six feet tall (a pleasant surprise, as I thought I'd only date one tall man in my life), had thick dark hair with a well-trimmed beard, and arms that looked like they could chop all the wood in the Kootenays (if you know, you know). His name was Nick. The only downside? Two very obvious (and very impressive) shirtless thirst traps on his profile. Nick may be one of those gross bachelors who blatantly objectified matches for one reason: a (normally atrocious) hookup. 

I took a chance and hesitantly swiped right. Then, I waited. 

 I see you visited the Tolkien door at Oxford, came his initial message later that day. Hot and a nerd? Points for Nick.

Discovering that Nick was a Lord of the Rings nerd was just the beginning. I also learned that his knowledge of alcohol far surpassed the average person's, thanks to his job as a rep for one of the largest suppliers in the city. When I shared my love of learning, especially from those who are experts in their fields, Nick took it to heart. He asked about my favorite wines and spirits and eagerly shared his extensive knowledge. I immediately knew we had to meet.

We planned to go for drinks, and I found myself in a pretty yellow sundress, standing on a corner in SoHo one evening, waiting for him. A minute later, he appeared and pulled me into a hug with those impressive arms. Despite his striking looks, his fashion was understated in that classic nerdy way—khaki chinos and a black t-shirt.

I’d mentioned my love for mezcal to Nick, so he arranged for us to visit a restaurant with the largest selection of tequila on the island. He had, he said, something he wanted to show me. I love a good surprise.

What immediately captivated me wasn't just his politeness to the staff or his attentiveness to me, although he excelled in both. It was his approach to life, infused with a slight touch of childlike wonder, that truly won me over.

“Are you ready to be wowed?” he asked when we sat down, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Finally, yes,” I replied with a laugh.

He called the server over and confidently ordered a mezcal tasting flight for both of us.

I gave him a look, intrigued.

“Have you heard of pechuga?” he asked.

I hadn’t.

Pechuga, he shared, is a unique variation of mezcal, renowned for its complex production process and rich, layered flavors. The protein (normally raw turkey, chicken or rabbit) used during the second (or even third!) distillation infuses the mezcal with savory undertones, resulting in a remarkably smooth and nuanced spirit. Often, fruits, nuts, and spices are also added to the distillation, enhancing the depth of flavors and creating a drink that's a full sensory experience (you can learn more about its history here). His knowledge and passion impressed me—Nick was clearly intelligent and enjoyed pursuing knowledge. 

I was intrigued at his description. How much more complex could the famously smoky agave spirit get in terms of flavor? And even more important: how much would a raw chicken breast add to the flavor of mezcal in a positive way?

When the flight arrived, the server explained the unique proteins each mezcal had been aged with: chicken, mole chicken, grapefruit, and orange blossom.

Nick picked up the first glass, the chicken-infused mezcal, and gestured for me to do the same. “Ready?”

I lifted my glass and clinked it against his, bringing it to my lips for a cautious sip. As a long-time wine enthusiast, I was used to hearing descriptions of tasting notes like apples or peaches, only to end up tasting...well, just wine. Still, I was determined to approach this with an open mind. I let the liquid linger on my tongue, allowing it to warm and unfold its flavors. The familiar smoky essence of mezcal that I’d been used to greeted me first, but then it gave way to a rich, almost honey-like aftertaste that enveloped my senses.

I gasped in surprise. Reader - if you like mezcal and get a chance, promise me you won’t sleep on trying this masterpiece.

He chuckled across the table from me. “Good, right?”

I pulled my hand to my mouth, still surprised at the flavor. “Wow.”

“Should we try the next one?” he asked, reaching for the mole chicken infused glass. 

I nodded, picking up the next glass with a smile, maintaining eye contact as I sipped. This time, the smoky flavors transitioned into a savory aftertaste with a distinct umami quality. It was incredible, and the warmth of the straight liquor spread through my entire body as I savored it.

“Should we get food?” he suggested, gesturing to the remaining two glasses. “I don’t think we should get trashed on a weeknight.”

As he ordered food for the table, I couldn’t help but notice how oblivious he seemed to his own striking looks. Even sitting in the restaurant, both men and women couldn't resist stealing glances at him, lingering just a bit too long.

With the mezcal warming my cheeks, we delved into the usual date topics—where we were from, our jobs, and basic family details. I mentioned my dad had passed away over a decade ago, and Nick shared that his mom had died when he was in high school. His parents had fallen in love after she first fought off cancer; they had married and had kids only for the cancer to return one final time.

He also revealed that he’d had a strict conservative Christian upbringing until his mother’s death. They hadn’t listened to music, watched TV, or been exposed to much of the outside world while his mom was with them. I was surprised—Nick didn’t easily fit into any box, but this revelation was unexpected as he seemed so comfortable in the world around him.

“I can still remember the first time my dad introduced me to music,” he said. “It was shortly after my mom passed away—he played Pink Floyd’s The Wall, and I fell in love with rock and roll on the spot.”

I watched him, moved by his story, unable to find words. Despite the tragedy, he appreciated the beauty of that moment. He was so steady and calm, as if discovering things most of us have known our entire lives as a teenager had given him some unique inner strength. It was enthralling, and I wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and kiss him, but then remembered I was full of mezcal and restrained myself.

“On top of all this, I recently got out of a four-year relationship with a woman I was living with,” Nick continued, bringing me out of my hypnosis. “And before that, I went from one relatively conservative long-term relationship to another since I was a teenager. I haven’t had a moment to discover myself.”

I completely understood how he felt; I’d been there myself the year I turned 28. “Now you’re enjoying being single.”

He brought the third glass of mezcal—grapefruit—to his lips and then grinned. “That’s exactly it.”

“I think that’s exciting,” I replied, and it was true. I’ve always been drawn to the potential of a blank canvas. Starting something and seeing where it went was half the fun.

I also appreciated his honesty. Unlike my recent ex, Nick was laying the terms on the table so I could make an informed decision—one where I could invest my time and feelings as much or as little as I liked.

At the end of our dinner, our conversation somehow turned to jedis and the force. His eyes lit up. “You like Star Wars too?”

I imagined what it must have been like to discover that series for the first time and felt a little envious. “Of course! I love a good epic.”

He glanced down, noticing our meal and mezcal supplies were both dwindling. “Would you be game to grab one more drink at a pub nearby? I feel like we can’t just stop here.”

I laughed. “We could be talking all night when it comes to epic sci-fi.”

He smiled and motioned for the server. “I’m not opposed.”

I gave myself a mental pat on the back—this was now the second charming man who wanted to extend our time together after our initial date. Perhaps I wasn't as undesirable as recent events and my weight gain had made me feel.

We walked a block away to a pub, settled into two bar stools and immediately dove into our personal takes on Andor and Ahsoka. He insisted I needed to watch The Clone Wars for the full backstory. I pulled a face; it always took me a while to get into animated series.

“You won’t regret it,” he promised. “There’s so much you need to see.”

“Fine,” I teased, eyeing him playfully. “Maybe you could watch it with me?”

He grinned, leaning over to bump my shoulder. “I think you might be able to convince me.”

As the night drew to a close, we stepped outside, and I called my Uber. When it arrived, I moved to hug him goodnight, but he gently lifted my chin and pulled me into a lingering kiss that made my mezcal-warmed cheeks warm even more.

I smiled the whole way home.

The next day, still glowing from the success of a wonderful date, I was eager to share my experience with my colleague and friend, Rich, who loved tequila. Fortunately, he was one of the first in the office that morning.

“Hey!” he called from across our open-plan office.

I waved back. “Rich!” I said excitedly. “Do you know about pechuga?”

He frowned. “What did you say?”

“Pechuga!” I repeated loudly, in case he misheard me. “Have you tried it?”

He held up his hands, motioning for me to lower my voice as he walked over.

Now I was the one frowning. “What’s wrong?”

He shuffled up to my desk, glancing around to see who was nearby. “Stef,” he whispered. “Pechuga is literally slang for breast.” He pointed at his own chest for emphasis.

I gasped.

Now I was the one looking around to see if anyone had heard me shouting the word across the office. Luckily, most of our team came in later, and those who were there seemed oblivious. Leave it to me, the Canadian, to yell the Spanish slang for tit in the office.

I motioned for him to shush. “No!” I whispered back. “It’s a type of mezcal!”

Rich burst into laughter at the obvious horror on my face as I explained what it was.

“I didn’t know!” I hissed, still mortified as he continued to laugh.

Later that day, Nick messaged me. I have a wild idea—don’t judge me.

I paused, uncertain of what his definition of "wild" might entail. Given his relatively sheltered upbringing, it could swing to either extreme.

I’m all for wild ideas, I replied, genuinely curious.

He sent a link. I clicked it, and it took me to a website for a Star Wars-themed burlesque show, The Empire Strips Back. I breathed a sigh of relief—nothing too wild after all.

I’ve always wanted to go to a burlesque show. Is this too racy for a date?

Here was a sweet, handsome man, openly communicating his thoughts, asking me—a person who's attended some of the wildest parties around the world (bottle service at E11EVEN, anyone?)—if a burlesque show was too racy for a date. It was endearingly cute.

Not at all, I reassured him. Let’s do it!

Several nights later, we met outside the theater in the East Village. Nick seemed both nervous and excited as we entered, and I appreciated the magnitude of how new this experience was for him. I couldn't wait to see his reaction to burlesque.

The show itself was a fab blend of homage to the original canon and playful enhancements of the dancers' movements. For fellow nerds like myself, it's a must-see. Nick sat beside me, completely still throughout the performance, his eyes wide with amazement. He was clearly captivated by the spectacle, absorbing every moment with innocent awe and wonder that I found endearing.

"Wow," he exclaimed afterward, shaking his head in disbelief. "I had no idea what to expect, but that was something. I think we need to debrief. Want to head to a bar I know?"

“I’m glad you enjoyed it!” I replied, genuinely pleased. “And of course I'm up for it.”

He extended his arm, and I linked mine with his.

Nick’s excitement was palpable. "I've never experienced anything like that. I can't believe I waited so long to see a burlesque show."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," I said with a smile. "And I'm glad I could share this first with you."

He returned the smile, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Thank you for being open to my 'wild' idea."

I chuckled. "You're welcome. And hey, now you know there's a whole world of experiences out there waiting for you."

He grinned. "I can't wait to explore more of it."

As we waited at a red light, he leaned in for a kiss, igniting a flutter in my chest.

At the bar, his hand found its place on my knee, and I couldn't help but appreciate the simplicity of the moment—no stress, no uncertainty about our connection, just living fully in the present.

“I appreciate how upfront you were about what you were looking for and where you’re at,” I told him, looking at his hand. “It’s refreshing to connect with someone so genuine.”

We left the bar that night and the city seemed to glow with an inviting warmth, mirroring the ease between us. Our connection had evolved from a chance encounter on a dating app to a shared exploration of new experiences.

Walking side by side, our conversation flowed effortlessly, blending laughter and shared interests. It was clear that the night wasn't over yet.

Back at my place, the air hummed with anticipation as we had one last drink on my terrace. The casualness of our connection lent an air of comfort, as if we'd known each other for years rather than days. There were no expectations or pressures, just a mutual understanding of enjoying the present moment.

Much later that evening, he kissed me goodbye at my door. As we parted ways, there was a sense of contentment and a shared understanding that our connection would continue in its casual, yet meaningful, way. It was a refreshing change from the complexities of past relationships—a reminder that sometimes, the most beautiful connections are the ones that unfold organically, without force or expectation.

In the days that followed, the rhythm of our lives continued, each of us pursuing our own passions and goals. Our interactions remained intermittent but meaningful, a delicate balance that preserved the essence of our genuine connection. Unlike my previous experiences, navigating this dynamic with Nick felt like a natural dance of mutual understanding and respect, a testament to the power of transparent communication and honesty.

While our story didn’t unfold as a grand love saga, Nick’s presence in my life left an indelible mark. Our conversations, marked by his unwavering honesty and respectful demeanor, stood out as a refreshing departure from past complexities, revealing the pure beauty of authentic connections.

In his quiet, unassuming way, Nick kindled a renewed sense of self-assurance within me. His influence reaffirmed my ability to navigate relationships with poise and genuineness, even amid life’s unpredictable twists. Our shared moments became a poignant reminder that meaningful connections thrive not in grand gestures, but in the genuine exchange of mutual understanding and respect, ultimately allowing one to make informed decisions about matters of the heart.