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I thought it was against the rules.

You know, the one where you’re supposed to wait a few days, maybe even a week before the second date. 

So when Striker suggested we meet up the next morning for coffee and co-working I thought…


As in, tomorrow tomorrow?

Truth is, I wanted more.

So– I broke them.

Show me whatchu got, Striker! Can you keep Krystal engaged two dates in a row?

Nonchalantly ripping another page out of the rule breaker playbook, I threw on my favorite hightop sneakers and the jeans jacket my mom hates so much.

My brother’s going to kill me when he finds out I wore sneakers.

Of course, Striker would show up in his dapper duds.

Dude, it’s the day before Thanksgiving!

He sat down beside me– the most awkwardly, annoying thing ever– and we both opened our laptops pretending to send important emails, wondering what the next person was going to say.

“Are you good?”

Leave it to me to break the silence.

He smiled. It was time for lunch.

As if to anticipate my discomfort, Striker quickly switched seats, sitting across from me.

We devoured our so-so sandwiches, amazing fries and washed it down with a healthy does of serious date #2 conversation.

* What top three qualities do you want in a man?
* Do you want to be married? How many children?
* Currently dating, married, divorced?
* What are your love languages?
* Toothpaste cap on or off?

Okay, maybe not that last one, but you get the drift.

I was pleasantly surprised by Striker’s “cut to the chase” attitude.

Gotta love a man who knows what he wants.

“Want to go for a walk?”

Not to mention, a man with a plan.


He took care of the bill and– somewhat prematurely–he took my hand.

I went along with it because this was a gesture that said, “I’m listening.”

Physical touch, I told him earlier, was second only to acts of service when it comes to my love language.

We walked over the bridge onto a baseball field and there it was.

“A park? You mean a real park?”

He smiled. And so did I.

“Swings first, right?”

I ran.

“Swings it is.”


Although he sat directly across from me, his hazel eyes curiously taking account, I paid him no mind.

“I knew I wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he would later say.

My hazel eyes were set on other sights.

Unfortunately, the 6’4, dark chocolate chunk of a man to my right, had a lilt that led me to believe he might play for the other team.(A common occurance when dating in D.C.)

The dinner party was a straight man’s paradise and this straight love jumper’s loss.

No eligible bachelors in sight. Though, I did meet a handsome hipster who walked me to the train station after dinner.

More about him later.

After exchanging a few words with “Striker”— and embarrassingly asking him to repeat his very Nigerian name— his slight accent put the nail in the coffin.

I was done.

You see, I’ve had my fair share of Naija men and let’s just say their jollof just doesn’t jive with my jerk.

But we’re love jumping right?

So in a casual exchange I gave him my number never expecting him to reach out.

But he did. He texted. He called. He texted again.

And even when I cancelled, rescheduled and flaked a few times–yikes!– he continued to ask me out.

Finally, our first date.

Drinks at a darling neighborhood bar that screamed: LOVE JUMP! There were hearts and pictures of the word LOVE, everywhere.(Did this guy know what he was doing or what?)

We sipped Sangria (well, I gulped while he nursed) and got lost in several hours of conversation about our heritage, hobbies and hopes.

It was perfect. He smelled like heaven and had the charm and intellect to match.

I remember thinking, this is one of the best first dates I’ve ever been on.

I’m guessing the same was true for him.

“See you in the morning?” he said as he drove me home.

“Sure. See you in the morning.”

It’s been a week since I had my first #lovejump with Military Man. Update in the video!