He Called Me Sunshiine

He Called Me Sunshine

“Until tomorrow, Sunshine. Can’t wait to see you." He whispered before hanging up.

We met online just a couple of weeks ago. It started with short messages on the Plenty of Fish dating site. We quickly switched to texting all throughout the day. Once we shifted to nightly calls, we couldn't stop talking. His voice was soft and genuine.

We shared secrets, dreams, and everything in between. We laughed about our fears and joked about our mistakes. He seemed to fill a loneliness I wasn't even aware I had.

We spoke with such familiarity it was as if we'd known each other for years. He told me about his struggles from childhood — that his mother had abandoned him, and as an adult how his ex-wife betrayed him. I was impressed that despite his many hardships, he was such a kind and giving man.

He was in another state, helping an old friend—someone fighting cancer whom he couldn’t abandon. He spoke so highly of his lifelong friend and told me about their fun times from the good old days. I could hear his voice crack when he spoke of his condition. I loved that he could show he was vulnerable with me.

When he finally said he'd be driving to Tucson in the next couple of days to meet me, I spent the day dancing around vacuuming, dusting and cleaning everything in sight. It was a five-hour drive for him and we talked the entire way. With the sound of the wind whistling in the background, it felt like I was right there with him in the car.

Since the dating site was free, I always kept a second account, a “spy” profile. Just as a precaution— I already felt invested and probably didn't need it, but I left it up anyway. I've come across a few liars in the past, so this is just my way of weeding the womanizers out.

Most men never contacted both profiles. He had messaged my other profile once twice in the beginning, but he never pursued “her,” and didn't ask for "her" number. He pursued me. I could tell by his chipper voice that he was enthusiastic about me and me alone.

We chose our first meeting to be a picnic at Sentinel Peak Park, a scenic overlook with its view stretching wide across Tucson. It was public enough to be safe, yet private enough to have intimate conversations. I was excited and nervous. I was hoping he still had all the hair shown in the pictures.

When I pulled up, he was lounging in his car, windows down, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young blasting "Teach Your Children." As soon as he saw me get out of my car, he popped out and wrapped his arms around me in a warm hug. I couldn’t hide my smile if I’d tried.

He was attractive and had all his hair but, he definitely weighed more than his profile suggested. I didn't mind as I noticed it felt nice in the soft squishy hug. To my surprise I liked the extra weight.

We were in sync right down to our smiling eyes. We held hands from the gravel nature trail to the stone gazebo where we casually sat in the wide glassless window panes as we ate the sandwiches he bought.

He leaned forward to a young couple sitting a few feet from us and said "This is our fifth anniversary." "Congratulations!" they replied. They believed him even as I laughed and insisted it was our first date.

"Happy anniversary, Sunshine." He laughed.

Then he kissed me. My pulse raced. Suddenly, everything I had hoped for with him felt possible.

We spent the entire night wrapped in that feeling—lying together, giggling, kissing, and talking about forever. I imagined where we would live and had visions of us cooking evening meals. It felt like a fairy tale. Warm. Safe. He felt like home.

The next morning, he disappeared into the bathroom. When he came out, he flashed the screen of his phone at me "I was just checking the scores from yesterday's game. That's why I had my phone with me." I hadn’t even noticed he took his phone with him. We hadn't talked about sports yet, but I was intrigued that there was still more to learn about him. I was also a little curious as to why he provided me with an explanation.

Before our long goodbye hug, we made dinner plans. Moments after he left, my phone chimed with his text: "Sunshine, I can't wait till dinner. How about lunch?"

My heart was full. I wanted to jump for joy. Instead, I just yelled out a happy "Yes" to myself.

Then I saw a new message alert on my phone from the dating site. It was to the spy profile from him. For a moment, my heart stopped. Then I reassured myself; he must be cutting all ties with his old matches. He is doing all the right things.

And then I opened it.

“Good morning, Sunshine. Please forgive me for the delay in getting back to you. I’ve been with a dear old friend who has cancer and haven’t had a chance until now. I have some time this week and would love to meet you.”

With my hands shaking, I read it again. And again.

Sunshine.

The friend with cancer.

And the timestamp—this morning. While he was in my home. In my bathroom.

Two weeks of warmth and laughter. One perfect night.

My heart was pounding. It felt like even the air in the room was pounding.

Shock and disbelief washed over me. I wanted to scream. How could he do this to me? My mind scrambled to the night before — when I was almost sure I heard him murmur "I think I'm falling in love" and to the laughter we shared with our morning coffee.

I felt so stupid. Used. Deceived. Angry.

I took a screenshot of his message to “her" and before blocking him, I sent it in a text with a single line:

"Goodbye, Sunshine."