A Great First Date

All the single ladies, I bring good news!  It does exist: last night I went on a great first date. 

I know, I know…this is not everyone’s experience these days.  Good first dates are a rarity.  And good blind first dates, even more so.  After a first date, my friends and I usually talk about, well, how weird it all went.  And we usually don’t mean weird as in the adorable, romantic comedy, quirky-cute sort of way.  It’s usually more weird as in, “I am not entirely sure he was all there upstairs.”  Or, “I may have to seriously block him on my phone since he seemed super strange.”  So it was an especially nice surprise that without too much effort on my part, I met up with a stranger, spent time with that stranger and it went well.  

Actually, I really enjoyed myself. 

I had met “Nate” on Match.  Our back and forth over email was relaxed and easy.  And I thought, yes, now I remember: this is supposed to be fun!  Messaging over Match is more like texting these days.  So there is a fine line between being the recipient of some witty banter and a, “Hey your hot,” or “Nice pix care 2 chat?” which seem to be some men’s favorite messages to send.   Anyway, Nate had my same sense of humor and he consistently kept our conversation going despite having what appeared to be a demanding job.  Yes, his few pictures leaned towards cute.  But there just seemed to be something more about him that kept my interest.  We set up a phone date and he was really easy to talk to.  He made me laugh—a lot—and before I knew it he was asking me out.  Of course I said yes. 

When I arrived at the restaurant, I checked in with the hostess.  

“I’m meeting a date but I am not sure if he is here yet,” I said, suddenly feeling very desired and popular at my mere mention of a “date” and me having one.  Yes, I thought, I had somewhere to be and someone to meet.  I pushed my shoulders back a bit since it was a Tuesday night and I was winning at adulting in that moment. 

“I haven’t sat anyone by themselves recently but you are welcome to take a look around,” she replied.  I surveyed the restaurant and didn’t see him but then Nate walked in.  Bingo: the butterflies were in my belly immediately.  He was adorable and better yet, he was smiling at me.  I even caught the hostess doing a double take as she went to seat us.  So we began the long walk back to our table and I was grateful for that bit of a walk.  To be honest, I was kind of nervous because it had been a while since I had been on a first date.

 

If you have read my blog at all, you know how I pretty much have a black belt in dating.  But there had been nothing long-term to speak of and most definitely nothing to post on Instagram and hashtag about.  This past year, though, that changed.  Things just lined up.  I felt bold enough to take a risk and get off the dating sidelines.  And I finally got in the game.  (Question: Why are there so many sports metaphors in love?)  Anyway, after what had felt like forever, the timing was right.  I fell in love and had my first serious relationship. 

Cue the music…

Oh, the glorious Technicolor, firework-blooming, heart-racing, lovey-dovey amazingness of it all!  I suddenly knew what love felt like, firsthand!  My life was a rom-com starring yours truly.  He was a wonderful man who I got to love and learn from; a special spirit that had crossed my path to help me grow. He was an incredibly sweet, wickedly funny and crazy attractive gentleman who was in my life and very happy to be there.

So we loved, we learned, we made olives.  (Seriously).  We did all of those couple-y things that are even more fun than I had previously imagined.  We journeyed through life together and it was intense and wonderful.  We had a beautiful, meaningful relationship.

But my Mom had this saying in regards to dating: It doesn’t work out until it does. Meaning, there will inevitably be a break-up you have to get through until you meet your person.  And while he was so many wonderful things, it became very clear that it wasn’t working out.  As much as it hurt to come to terms with, in the end I knew that he was a great man but we were not a great match.  So we broke up.

The actual breakup was all very adult.  Polite, even.  I mean, there’s being a grown-up and then there is being a grown-up during a break-up.  But we were kind to one another.  There were tears (mine) but there was no yelling, no name calling.  It was all very calm. We spoke about being friends in the future, after we both had time to heal.  We wished each other only good things.  We let go with love.  The end.

Except that's not exactly how it goes, right?  The end is not quite the end, not really.  Sure it might be the end of the relationship.  But the end is really only the beginning when it comes to getting over someone and moving on.  As I found out, that can last a while. 

Once I became single, the first thing I noticed around me were the people who were still in relationships.  Am I the only one who seemed to notice this?  I was apparently a magnet for pairs when I was now flying solo.  I’d check out Instagram: it was couples central.  Any public place?  There were people making out, making plans to make out or swiping through an app with hopes to meet someone to make out with later.

I needed to move on even though I saw love everywhere I looked.  So how did I get to a place where dating again was something I actually looked forward to?  How did I get ready to take that long walk back to the table, like I had with Nate, to begin something new with someone new?

I did the work.

Like anything, it was a process.  The first week after my breakup, I was reeling.  The only thing that calmed me down was a simple ritual.  Each night I found myself doing a puzzle as I ate Reese’s Pieces and listened to some kind of Lite FM station on Pandora.  I know.  I can assure you, it was even sadder than it sounds.  But at least I can look back now and laugh.  Because as the calm sounds of Gloria Estefan and Wham! serenaded me in the background, I’d eat handfuls of that crunchy peanut butter candy as I tried to piece together what was in front of me.  Puzzles are usually fun for me and relaxing.  Puzzles are my jam.  But believe me when I tell you, OH MY GOD, THIS PUZZLE WAS COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE.  Or really, maybe it wasn’t.  Maybe my situation just felt impossible.  Maybe I just literally couldn’t see how anything could fit together at that point in time.  Either way, after about the 5^th puzzle-palooza evening in a row, I realized that this tactic of doing a painstakingly accurate Bridget Jones impression was not working and I needed to do something else.  I was grieving the end of a relationship and I had no idea how to do it.

But, I knew I had to do something.  So here's what I did.

First, I read.  I remembered seeing this book, It’s Called a Break-up Because It’s Broken by Greg Behrendt and Amiira Ruotola-Behrendt.  And I figured if the guy who co-wrote He’s Just Not That Into You had something to say about break-ups, perhaps I should listen.  I am a writer and a reader so why not seek solace in a book?  As it turns out, it was really funny, honest and encouraging.  Here were two people who had gone through some pretty crazy break-ups and lived to tell about them.  They are also now happily married to each other.  If you are currently getting over a breakup I recommend it highly.

One of the exercises the book recommended was to completely rearrange your house.  Why just have a break-up, they reasoned, when you could have a break-over? I really liked the sound of that.  Their idea was that if your house looks different, different surroundings may make you feel different.  And different is always better than sad; different I could most definitely get down to.

So second, I cleaned.  I moved pictures around and relocated belongings from one corner to another and I kid you not, things looked brighter.  After also checking out The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo, I turned my cleaning up to 11.  Marie’s outlook is to let go of anything that is no longer bringing you joy.  So there I was in my closet, all of my clothes on the floor, holding my items piece-by-piece, finding some joy.  I have officially Marie Kondo’d the crap out of my home, both figuratively and literally.  Things carry energy and I wanted to change mine, which I did.

Third, I slept.  When you’re grieving your body can often feel physically tired.  Escaping to a long slumber each night so I could just completely check out was such a relief.  Sometimes I’d go to bed earlier than my baby nephew, but I didn’t care.  I needed an escape from mulling over every last detail in my mind.  In sleep everything just stopped and I could let go for a while and relax.  And I was reminded that anything, no matter what the situation, tends to look a bit better when you get enough sleep.  For me at least, this self-care was a game changer. 

Finally, I just stayed busy.   I found that just having something to do worked wonders for me.  I remembered baking had always calmed me down in the past.  So my mission soon became clear: I needed to figure out how to bake the best banana bread possible.  I mean, why not?  I became consumed with this goal--the right technique, cooking time, amount of bananas, etc.  Nuts?  No nuts?  It was all up for grabs in my little baking therapy.  About 30 loaves later, I emerged.  Turns out, no nuts, three bananas, hand mixer and 49 minutes at 325 degrees equaled banana bread gold.  My family and friends assured me my efforts were appreciated.  More important, I just liked doing this simple thing and seeing it work out every single time.  It was predictable and easy and it made me happy.  And being completely immersed in this activity made me calm. 

Then, one day somewhere along the line, I didn’t need to read or bake or sleep as much.  Suddenly, I didn’t need to “do”.  It wasn’t like my sadness had disappeared completely but something had changed and I was no longer in the thick of “it” like I had been before.  There are stages of grief in a death and there are stages of grief in a break-up.  And I knew I had made it to some other stage and crossed a threshold.  The books, bed and banana bread along with a lot of sleep had kept me moving in a good direction and I had made it through.

And ultimately it got me to a great first date with a flirty and fun guy.  It felt good to be sitting across the table from this attractive new man: we devoured great food, laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.  The attraction was there and that was exciting.  Would I like to hear from him?  Sure.  But the way I see it, it already worked out.  Because for me, the date itself was the win.  There I was: I had made it to the other side.  I was happy and living in the moment again, ready to take that long walk with somebody new.  And I smiled to myself as I sat down, knowing just how far I had already come.

(*That's me, pictured above, zip lining into my future. :)  )