Sometimes the pieces fall into place in a moment so minuscule, it passes right by. For me, it was a night so clear, the stars were visible beneath street lights at 2:30 a.m. as my date walked me to my car on the empty street.
“I had a great time. Thanks,” I told him sincerely with a tired smile. Weariness of a different kind. For the first time in a few years, I didn’t feel ragged and worn down. Maybe it was only a first date; casual, low key, at a board game café, yet it was a massive step for me.
I’ve been out of my marriage for almost three months now. The fall out was a devastating blow to my trust in others and my self-esteem. Friends kept reminding me that it would get easier. That the desolation, anger and hurt don’t last forever. My ladies and I agreed that the mere thought of dating again is far too daunting. It seemed as though that fear would linger for eternity.
I kept telling myself to get out there again. Socialize. Find some new people for some new adventures. Quit sitting at home in front of the TV every night after work, yearning for company, while swiping through the same three apps on my phone. Enough of spending Saturday nights out at the same old bar, getting drunk and mingling with all the wrong guys. The kind you bum a cigarette from, eye up through neon lights, and initiate a fling only to find out he’s had a girlfriend for five years. The over-travelled road of all my familiar patterns. Wrong taste in men, worse taste in where I find them.
So, in adding another app to my phone, I joined the dating site “Plenty of Fish”. And there I was that Sunday night: standing in front my full-length mirror in the bedroom I recently repainted purple to reclaim as my own, sifting through one outfit after another and deciding what to wear. We’re talking a gal who hadn’t been on a first date in four years. I was terrified and anxious. And anyone who knows me, knows I am not an anxious person.
But a couple board games in, completely sober, we were laughing our heads off. I was entranced by those dark eyes and how handsome he was. We went for a walk afterwards, wandering downtown as we chatted about our jobs, friends, a brief discussion of our most recent relationships, and whatever else came to mind. I found him surprisingly easy to talk to and our sense of humours aligned quite nicely. I was proud of myself on this one. He was the complete opposite of the men of my past. Unlike the macho, egotistical, in-need-of-validation (and as my best friend pointed out, “What the fuck is he, a bus pass?!”), clingy, and manipulative men of my past, this one was quiet and shy at first, yet a bundle of fun when he started opening up.
A defining moment on date two helped ease much of the nervousness I have surrounding dating. He invited me to his friend’s house warming party. This meant I was meeting a few of his friends. This sent me into another fluster one of my ladies talked me through. Before the party, he and I wandered around downtown again, and found ourselves in a comic book store where he was looking for a board game. I don’t remember exactly what got us going, but we wound up laughing hysterically on the floor of the comic book store, to the point where the cashier came over to ask if we needed anything. I remember looking over at him, wondering, “what in the world was I so worked up about?” Turns out, the group at the party had the same sense of humour and were just as bizarre.
It is definitely a different crowd than what I am used to. Throughout my twenties, I found myself in a series of bar crowds, party animals in clubs, and the white-girl-wasted kind of groups. Yet I think this go-round, I found the geeks. My almost-thirty-year old self likes it.
No pressure for sex or a relationship. No hooking up or one-night stands. Someone who is laid back, chill and fun to be around. THIS is exactly what I have needed since ending my marriage. I joined “Plenty of Fish” knowing that most people on there are only looking for hook ups and casual sex. But hey, it’s not the bar, right?
I never thought I’d say it, but after multiple 20 and 22-year old guys trying to convince me to hook up, I have concluded that I am too old for this hook up culture. It’s not that I am a cougar. But upon returning to the dating world after four or five years, I am so bored of the instant gratification via band-aid sex with no real connection or meaning.
I guess I am past the phase of my life where one-night stands were the norm. I am sick of looking for just sex. This might be the unpopular opinion, but I am going to say it: This hook up culture is bullshit.
Every day that I inch closer to thirty, I feel like I no longer have time to waste on pretty boys at bars burdened with commitment issues and merely want to use others. It’s time to slow the train and take the advice I have given friends in the past. Give the poor heart a break and spend time with myself. Enjoy the dating scene without needing casual sex. Because that seems to be something no one does anymore. No one actually takes the time to get know the other person. It’s sex with a stranger and there’s nothing special about it.
It is a damn important piece of myself I have discovered this summer. The lady raised by my mother to not lower myself to random sex. I am content with not having to seek it for the sake of a potential orgasm with a stranger. Everyone else can do as they like. I won’t judge nor slut-shame. I am just old-fashioned, I guess.
Oh – and I also quit smoking…again. Purging the remainder of these toxic relationships by eliminating a toxic habit that I started under the influence of a previous ex. In disposing of a certain type of man I shouldn’t date, I am disposing of the habit that I associate with them. As much as I love the taste of tobacco mixed with rum, standing beneath neon lights, it’s time to surpass the twenty-something-year old rebel girl phase and get serious about who I am. I may not know that completely yet, and it will take time, but even in a mere two dates with one guy, I have found pieces of me that repair some of my self-esteem and let me stand stronger on my own.
