First Date

Sunday was the day I finally went on my first 'date' in twenty-three years. I had worked hard to psych myself up for it. I wasn't going to be nervous, I wasn't going to stress over whether or not there was 'chemistry' or whether or not there was going to be physical contact. I remember that in college I was almost freaky about being touched. I didn't like it. I had some real boundaries around my body. I always have.

We met on the bridge over the creek at the beach. He was there ahead of me. He looked just as I had expected him to look. He was open and friendly. He talked a lot. There were no awkward silences. We rode down to my favorite place and had lunch. He's a very serious bike rider. He rides to work, puts his bike on the train, takes big rides all around the entire metropolitan area. He rides a mountain bike and doesn't wear much biking gear. He sometimes doesn't wear his helmet. I hope he does when he's riding the streets. I can understand how he can not wear it on the beach bike path.

He has been divorced for many years and lives next to his two children, his ex and her new husband. He relocated from another part of the country to be near them. He is very attached to them and is just beginning to pursue dating. So, despite having been divorced for a long time, I think he's new at this dating thing too.

I enjoyed myself. I'm a good listener and I usually remember what people tell me. It was a very beautiful and pleasant afternoon. The weather was perfect. We parted by the airport and hugged. I thanked him for having the courage to be my first date in twenty-three years, that I had enjoyed myself, and that I hoped we could do it again. And when I got home I didn't cry. I didn't have even the urge to cry.

I think I'm gonna be okay in some of this dating.