I’m at the restaurant/bar attached to my building. I’m grabbing something to eat while writing. I’m in my own world until a guy next to me starts talking to me.
“Just ask if she’s single,” says his friend.
The guy starts laughing.
“He’s ruining it for me,” he says.
He’s a cutie, and he makes me laugh. That’s always a problem for me. I need to distance myself from funny men. They eventually rope me in.
I go back to my writing.
“What’s that you’re drinking?” he asks. “A mojito?”
“No,” I say. “It’s water with mint and lime.”
“Let me buy you a drink,” he says.
“I’m not drinking,” I say. “I’m working.”
He’s persistent. He doesn’t give up easily. The conversation moves from a drink to a date. Little does he know this isn’t the best day to ask me out.
This is my coming of age anniversary.
My divorce dating maturity milestone.
A year ago, I discarded my fears.
I gave my heart a chance.
“Are you saying you don’t date?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “I just haven’t had the best results. Not to mention, today might be a significant reminder of that. I need to reframe the whole dating thing.”
“Maybe you just need to change your approach to where you’ve been meeting men,” he says.
“Cover your ears,” I say jokingly. “I’ve met most of them in bars.”
I’m trying to explain that his odds aren’t good.
I don’t trust men in bars.
It’s a rule.
“Really?” he says. “I think bars are a great place.”
I go back to my writing. He goes back to talking to his friends. I can’t help but find the humor in it all. I meet a guy who asks me out on this particular day.
It’s kinda funny.
He begins talking to me again.
He mentions his age. He then tells me what he does for a living. I’m like…seriously?! Why do I keep meeting guys who are about the same age with a similar professional background.
I must have a type…
Without KNOWING that I have a type.
“How old are you?” he asks.
“I’m a lot older than you,” I say.
“Obviously, that must matter to you,” he says. “But it doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’m 12 years older than you,” I say.
“That’s a problem for you, isn’t it?” he asks.
“Well,” I say. “Yes, and no. It’s not a momentary problem but it is a long-term problem.”
“Why?” he asks. “If someone cares about you they will still feel that same way for you because of who you are, regardless of how you age.”
I try to believe him.
I shouldn’t truly care about the age thing.
“You’re not going to go out with me, are you?” he says.
“I guess I’m thinking too much in the long-term,” I say. “Maybe I do need to live in the present more, and stop projecting into the future about aging.”
He asks me for my phone.
He adds himself to my contacts.
He is really nice, and funny. But I am suspect of everyone these days. It’s not just my own dating experience. My divorced girls have had some crazy stories. The latest being my friend who just saw a man for nearly a year.
Let’s just say it didn’t turn out well.
And all was not what she thought it was.
It’s hard to trust anyone.
“Wow,” he says. “You are really scarred aren’t you?”
“Kind of,” I say. “It’s been a year. Quite a year. I was pretty naive.”
Which leads me to recap my first dating year.
Not going to lie…
It’s been fun.
Despite the emotional bruises.
I met one guy who filled a hole in my heart, a few guys who were fun, a few who have become friends, and a few who have left me disillusioned.
Let me emphasize the disillusioned part.
I’m not giving up.
I’m just not thrilled to go back out into the divorce dating pond.
There’s a bunch of sharks disguised as goldfish.
Or maybe I’m the goldfish swimming with the sharks.
Either way, it’s my coming of age anniversary.
And I’m celebrating it.
Just not with a date.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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