There is always a last hurrah before it all goes quiet. Mine was pleasant enough…a nice picnic by the lake with someone who looked like Hemingway but on deeper inspection turned out, for better or worse, to be nothing of the sort.
I packed a little bag with cheeses and fruits and spreads and a blanket. We sat on chairs drinking a nice wine that he brought with him. It was warm and breezy. There were people drumming, dancing, bustling, over at the nearby farmer’s market. Cormorants opened their wings and sunned themselves. Two big pelicans showed up unexpectedly.
Gucci lay at my feet nomming on a bone. Conversation was easy, but I already knew that it was a no. He was getting touchy-feely as the wine settled in and warmed his body. I was friendly, but leaned back whenever he leaned in. I was warm, too, but it was the lake and the people and the sun that soothed my bones.
It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t smell right, his teeth were wrong…..ah…chemistry…
The hand that kept finding my knee kept me jumping up, changing position…squirming in my seat.
I have a few stragglers who may end up friends, or special friends, or who knows what….but this was probably going to be my last date in a while. That was both a comfort and a bit sad…but, no pressure. I honestly had no expectations. Sure, a little part of me would have liked to dine with Hemingway, but I have such a good nose for trouble that I’m actually glad that this was just an easy no.
I was enjoying my day regardless, and as I was trying to find a gentle way out, he dropped his little secret. This poor battered soul is living in his family home with his wife. They are uncoupled, he said.
It was very easy for me to honestly say that I have no interest in dating someone who is living with his wife, no matter how uncoupled he may feel.
He wanted to “unpack” that, so I tried to explain to him that he still has a family that he lives with. (Do I REALLY need to explain this?) He didn’t understand, so I said, “Great….lets go back to your house for coffee, now.” Well naturellement…..THAT couldn’t happen…no, no he doesn’t bring women home. Of course not.
What I couldn’t really tell him is that his situation makes me sad….that I have too much compassion for failed partnering up to sit in the wreckage of someone else’s marriage and feel okay…I am living with the fallout of my own past without having the pain of someone else’s under foot on a daily basis. Do I want to be part of a slow, slow death….a last gasp? Would I always be rooting for their reunion? Yes…I would be forever wishing them a second chance, a final chance for a happy ending. My no isn’t a judgement on that situation, it is an awareness of my own heart, and how it would inevitably feel down the road.
The world is buzzing along….there are couples doing their thing, my dating friends, and some who have found peace and solace alone.
I have had a spring full of fever and a summer of wanting just love….and it has been busy and fun, if not always as loving as I would have liked.
If one is going to date, the spirit of it all needs to be light and happy and joyous…and when it gets to be sad and frustrating and time-wastey then the best thing is to do is just back away from it all. I deleted the profiles and am packing it in, for now….
Hello to yard work and cheese plates and reading for hours and ceramics class and singing badly (but with heart)…..nothing sad about those things…no squirming in my seat. It’s a good seat, too….right Gucci? He said right….a very good seat.
I celebrated with a small rootbeer float and dog biscuits all around, and the latest New Yorker.
Another hurdle down and August is upon us…..did I mention that Indian summers and the Fall that follows is my favorite? I’m casting my dreams into that summer breeze, that blows my love to me….wait that’s a song….I didn’t really mean it. I was just kidding, just dreaming, just wondering and wandering….always, I guess….but shhhh…go back to sleep. See you in my dreams and all of that. The End.