Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

I'm not sure what lesson must be learned from my last date, but it is one that was not learned with a smile and I have not yet been able to find the humor in it. Disregarding the fact that the gentleman in question was a half-hour late (he did tell me that he might be running late), he seemed to be a nice man. Well, that is until he completely veered from the story told in his ad. The ad, in part, stated:

This has been quite a week. The long term demise of my long term relationship finally came toppling down.

However, all is not lost. With this frustrating period now just ending, I would love to have an adventure.

At first he revealed what has become a disconcertingly common theme: that his wife abused him. (Words people, words do hurt.) And, of course, they should have divorced a long time ago. Oh why, why do we stay in dead marriages? What’s with the “for the good of the children” b.s.? Someone has just got to realize that it is not good for the children to think that marriage is about how two people stop loving each other and in place come to dislike (even hate) each other, and how family meals and vacations are not about enjoying themselves but about not getting into arguments. What is good for children in that?

Okay, back to the gentleman and his oops detail; and I mean OOPS! His wife has cancer; she was diagnosed a year ago. Big OOPS! Oh, and (at least here he gave some credibility to his role as husband and human being) he is not pursuing a divorce nor a separation, since he would “be there for her” as she battles the cancer. So why didn’t he just say that he needs a night out with someone to listen to him without the "relationship over" detail? And why didn't he go to the "casual encounters" section?

I had originally thought I could just listen and talk to someone who’s also getting out of a long-term relationship and see where it goes, without too many expectations (in fact, that was a positive point for me). But this, this was certainly not what his words alluded to. I think I’m a compassionate woman, but there’s a difference between laying yourself out to be used to soothe a man’s psyche (seems like I’ve been there before) and a grownup cooperative, mutually beneficial relationship (or whatever it is where you both get something out of the relationship and one is not used to bolster up the other with no compensating sentiments). Maybe I’m harsh, lacking in compassion, and maybe that’s why I had the relationship I did, but I think that I gave mr. ex what he needed for years, but I did not get what I needed, and I am very leery of being used again or letting myself put someone else’s needs ahead of my own. (Is that bad to say? Are we really supposed to listen to those love songs that say we should love unconditionally and forever and put our beloved’s needs ahead of our own? Has anyone noticed that most of those love songs are written by kids in their teens and twenties and they know not of the realities of love and life?)  

Alright, at this point I figured we’d have a couple of drinks, I’d listen to him and the evening would come to an end. I would think of it as a night out with a friend, who really needed it, no more. But those drinks were strong, very strong. After one and a half (if I have a drink, it is generally just one), I tried to elegantly walk to the bathroom, past the prostitutes at the bar, and into the handicapped stall—I needed space. And, it turned out, time. The lovely tiramisu that I shared with a friend at lunch came up, as did those nuts in a dish.

Each time I thought I was ready to go back, I decided to stay and, well, nurture myself. When I finally made it out, I found the table empty: empty of glasses, empty (thankfully) of the check, and empty of a man in a confused state. Gone gone gone. I sat down at the empty table, wondering how he had just left (why couldn't my ex-husband do that?). My mother, upon recounting this tale to her a few days later, wondered how he had left me—without ensuring that I got home safely. My response was, “I’m a big girl.” Maybe now she really gets it that I don’t have a man to look after me; that I am the "man" who looks after myself. He certainly was not responsible for my getting home safely.

After I told the waiter that, no, I don’t want another drink, I sat there for a few more minutes, waiting until I felt ready to drive home.

Back in the handicapped stall, I got a call from the gentleman of the hour. “Where are you?” he asked. Apparently, people really do believe that in real life people walk out on their dates with nary a word. He, apparently, thought that I had left and was home snug in my bed. As I was about to revisit some more tiramisu, I told him that I had drank too much, was still in the bathroom, and excuse me I have to go.

I finally made it to my car, feeling sober, in more ways than one. I drank some of the cold coffee from the morning and ate part of a donut. That and a piece of gum and I was on my way, slowly, home.

At 8am the next day I got a text message from him that I am a nice girl (I am 47, I am not a girl, but that is a topic for a separate post) and that he apologized for leaving, that he thought I had left.

All the best to him and his wife.

Regarding the lessons learned, I think I figured them out. One: I will not be looking for love on Craig’s List anytime soon—if ever. I think the ease of it and the lack of any commitment (money) required makes it rife for people to act on whim. Two: my rule about not dating anyone with a more complicated home life than mine definitely seems to be one worth upholding. Three: one drink needs to be a rule, not a habit. And four, don't let other people's actions bring me down; sometimes it really is about them, not me.

Humor: nope, I still haven’t found it. This still seems sad, sad for both of us.