Dating 101

Don, Jon, Mark, Matt, Michael, Pete, Peter, Greg, Gary, Tom, Dick and Jerry; heady stuff for a girl who asked five boys to the tolo and they all said no. With the first week of Dating 101 under my belt, I’m heading into my fifth date. I’m not sure I have the hang of it but it is getting easier. If nothing else, I should be a walking dictionary of what you can order at Starbucks.

I was determined to stick with my coffee only strategy even though my first date was in a restaurant bar. Since it was early evening I opted for herbal tea and he ordered an Arnold Palmer – for the uninitiated: half ice tea, half lemonade. We talked easily, it turns out we knew a number of mutual people. As a part time sportscaster he shared an interest in the local sports scene. He was impressed when I asked if that day’s Mariner loss was because of a walk-off - thanks to my former husband I'm an aficionado of baseball. He was a nice guy but his two children were young – too young. The awkward part is when it was time to leave, clearly this wasn’t going anywhere. Getting up I stuck out my hand with what I hoped to be a warm smile – told him it was a pleasure to meet him and good luck with his search. He reached for the hug and clumsily kissed the side of my face. I felt sad, I can relate to how it feels to be the loser, to feel brushed off.

Sunday found me sitting across the table from a quiet talker. Married for more than a quarter century to one made it immediately apparent this too wasn’t going to work. He felt compelled to challenge my religious beliefs – not the best strategy for getting a second date but maybe that was his motive? And he had a soul patch – that just screams, “Trying too hard to be hip.”

Monday, another Starbucks, another town, another guy. Tonight; same story, tomorrow; ditto, Saturday, well maybe Saturday I’ll mix it up a little. My daughter Melissa thinks it dumb that I won’t agree to a glass of wine.

What I have felt is a sense of unease and heaviness. Almost a dread and I find my mind glamorizing those Saturday nights with the remote, glass of wine and the two puppies riding saddlebag on the couch. Maybe my heart is still a tiny bit full of armor. Certainly the way my marriage ended – he with the new girl in the wings, me clearly yesterday’s news – followed by the non-committal, ‘we’re just buddies’ with the strange sexual undertones and total confusion as to where I stood, relationship – all of this did little to help that armor disappear.

But even with this wounded, banged up but healed heart, I am committed to this process. I want what I want; a friend, companion, one who is in my corner, who’ll listen to my hopes and fears, bounce ideas off, tell me when I’m being unreasonable or bitchy, laugh, cheer and cry with me. I want to love and be loved. I want to feel the rapid beat of my heart, the lump in my throat - anticipation, chills, thrills and adrenalin rush - I want to light up at the sight of his name on my phone, see his email in my inbox. I want romance, sparks and passion. That’s not too much to ask is it?

I play a game with Penny and Scout every evening when I get home. Throwing open the front door I ask them, “Did anyone leave us flowers today girls?” Maybe someday I’ll be surprised to actually see them on the front porch. Wouldn’t that be something!