Changes

Changes are taking the pace I'm going through. 

I knew this day would come. They said it would, and so it has. I mean, it happens to other people. I'm young. I'm attractive. I go out in the world and do things in the same places as other humans. I'm not sure what the statistics are on this matter, but it was bound to happen eventually. 

Today was the day I got asked out, in person, by a stranger. 

Disclaimer: I do know that it is quite possible that a stranger asked me out to my face at some point in the last fifteen months, but I likely missed it, in much the same way I don't pick up on most jokes and then find myself saying, "I think that might have been a joke, but I can't tell. Are you being sarcastic or serious?" Or, I was probably drunk and/or at a bar, and that doesn't count. So, today was a first for me.

Now, I know you've probably never thought of such a thing as worthy of being referred to as "a day". Being asked out, in person, by a stranger might not seem like a particularly remarkable occurrence. But it is. Oh, it so is. And I have wondered many times about this day. Rather, I had anxiety worrying about how I, being a loud, relentless, road-running New Englander, widowed by suicide and unabashedly verbose, would handle said situation. Now that it has happened, it has essentially occupied most of my energy today, hence being "a day". 

Let me further distinguish this day.

It's different from the day that "Andrew" and I made our first "date" plans. We already had feelings for each other, so things were moving in that direction. He already knew about Mark and, possibly more than anybody else in the world, how I was handling things. Plus, we made those plans in a text, so there was no chance of rejection, however unlikely, face to face. That's not the same as today.

This momentous day is also is not to be confused with the first day I was asked out by a friend, or any of the subsequent days I was asked out by other friends. My new "single" status brought a fair share of male friends and their feelings for me out of the woodwork. Sometimes it was flattering; other times, not so much.

Note to everyone everywhere: When a friend's partner passes away, they're not up for grabs. 

Don't get me wrong. I did some things, many of which I wouldn't repeat in my current state of mind, with people, some of whom I wouldn't do those things with ever again, and it plain old felt good to feel desirable after what Mark did. I'm not sure there is anything that can leave you feeling more unwanted than losing a partner to suicide, except maybe being abandoned by your parents. So, I liked the attention I was getting in the beginning, and I admittedly took some actions that would be considered inappropriate by most, even if they made sense to me at the time. But being asked out on dates by people I thought were my friends was surprising, upsetting and confusing. So, today was unlike those days. 

Lastly, it's not the same as the day a friend of mine "sort of" asked me, in person, straight to my face, on a date that wasn't really a date, but rather was a night out with a friend that I thought he MAYBE wanted to be a date, so we made it a "sort of" plan until he called me on the phone the following night to confirm said "sort of" date/night-out-with-a-friend, with him not knowing that he was calling me as I was just about 3/4 of the way through a bottle of wine while sitting in a pile of my dead husband's clothes trying to sort out what to keep, what to give to his mom and what to donate. Today is DEFINITELY not the same as that day, or either of those days, since it spanned two. 

Having distinguished all that, I guess today is really the day I was asked out ON A DATE, in person, by a sober stranger AND I actually noticed and replied. Yup. That's it. Happy THAT day!

Now that it's happened, I find it very entertaining. And exciting. And flattering. And worthy of hours of writing to be shared with the world, or at least the few people who read this. But it really was very unnerving when it first dawned on me that at some point I might start dating. I can't even say "dating again" because I'm not sure I've ever done that. I was sort of just always with someone. So I don't really know what I mean by "dating", though it seems that nobody does since any conversations about dating turn into more of a vocabulary lesson and guessing game about what the speaker actually intends to achieve from a date. There is apparently not one definition of the word, but about a zillion, all open to interpretation. 

I don't really think I want to date in the typical sense, but even when you tell people that, they go on a tangent about how dating can be whatever you want it to be. This doesn't exactly help me to narrow things down, but I get that it really is up to me. I do know that the thought of joining any sort of dating platform and subsequently having to "match" with people with whom I can then text as I try to find words to explain what it is that I'm "looking for" (I'm not looking) and what kind of relationship I want (I have no idea) on the odd chance that the other person MIGHT be on the same page as me and then decide to meet me somewhere and replay the whole text over in person, just sounds daunting. I've also got a chronic case of stranger-danger and am generally convinced that most men are a threat, usually to my physical well-being. It's possible, though, that I'll someday want to dive into the world of online dating.

Is it still called "online dating", or is it now "app dating"?

I was asked out on a date ONCE while studying abroad in Madrid, but it falls into the this-doesn't-count category because we met over several mixed drinks (Fanta Limón & vodka, aka "vodka limón") at a club (Kapi, obviamente) in the dark. We managed to swap phone numbers in our very drunken state, and he invited me out a week or so later. But he seemed very happy to drop me off when I told him I wasn't going to sleep with him. I was twenty and had morals, plus a lack of self-esteem. He never replied to another text, and I decided that "dating" like that wasn't for me.

I then spent the better part of my 20's in two committed relationships. The first actually lasted longer than my marriage with Mark. That boyfriend and I did the long-distance thing for over two years before living in the same city and learning how to date each other on a regular basis. After we moved in together, it felt like we were following the expected path and progression of our relationship rather than considering whether or not we actually wanted to be together. I don't know if he shares my sentiments, but that was my experience. Immediately after that ended, I was with Mark, who had previously been my friend. In time, I'll likely be comfortable sharing further details about my marriage with Mark, but for now, we all know how that ended.

It's safe to say I've never actively looked for someone to be with. I think it's more often that if I'm open to things, they show up; if not, they don't. That's how my romantic relationships seem to have gone. For most of the last year, I was seeing "Andrew". (Side note: I love referring to him as "Andrew".) I may someday share a lot more about that relationship, too, but for now, I'll say it was what made sense to me at the time, I love him, I don't regret a second of it, and I'd absolutely be open to the possibility of us as a couple if the chance comes up again and is mutually workable.

As I said above, I don't particularly want to be in a romantic relationship right now, but I do want to be somebody's person at some point. I'm really enjoying how much I'm discovering about myself these days, as well as the freedom to do whatever I want just about whenever I want. But in the meantime, I am open to discovering what it is I might want in a partnership in the future. The only way to do that is to be on the court engaging with others, and today certainly put me right there. 

Okay, so I was on the proverbial court (standing near the chips in a grocery store) actively engaging (trying not to panic) in a conversation (one-sided, at first) about the possibility of me (loud, relentless, road-running...) going on a date (the romantic kind, I think) with another human being (cute guy who works at that store and smiles at me every time I go in during my lunch break). 

I was certain that when this day came, I would word vomit about losing my husband to suicide and scare away any poor guy who dared to ask me out.

I wonder how many people I scared away in the first few months when I started most conversations with some line about my husband's suicide, not taking into account that they probably didn't need to know the manner in which he did it.

To all those people who had the misfortune of being the recipient of my desperate need to say and get out of the way as early into a conversation as possible the fact that Mark had recently died by suicide in a violent manner, I'm not sorry. HA! Seriously, though, I was a mess. Getting through the day sober was a challenge, as was eating regular food, showering, and managing to go to a public place without causing a scene and flipping out on someone for walking too slowly in front of me. I wouldn't expect anybody in my situation to do much better in social interactions than I did. But I do understand that meeting me during those days was probably a heck of an experience!

Today, on the other hand, really wasn't so bad. Truly, I've made great progress in what Sheryl Sandberg refers to as "posttraumatic growth". It did catch me off guard, though, when the cute guy asked if I was taken, such that I got that low, buzzing noise in my ears and couldn't hear anything for a few seconds, thus questioning whether or not he actually said what I thought he said. This resulted in me replying with a giggly sort of chuckle that was loud enough to startle anybody in close proximity. I may have even said, "What?" 

Somewhere in between my hearing coming back and me finding words again, he said something about my smile being beautiful and that he'd been wondering if I was available, so he figured he'd just ask. This led to another short bout of deafness and a few more loud cackles on my part. Then my first actual answer to his request to take me out was a somewhat drawn out "sure", with a great deal of emphasis on the "sh".

Note to self: When somebody asks you out on a date, give a clear "yes" or "no". This will help to avoid confusion and potentially hurting the asker's feelings. Also, if you then apologize for your unclear response by telling the poor fellow that the reason you were so caught off-guard is because he was the first person to ask you out to your face since losing your husband a year ago, you might want to throw in a line about how your husband is dead and isn't still missing somewhere. 

All in all, it was a success in that he eventually got a "yes" and I didn't completely embarrass myself to the point of needing to find a new place to go to during my lunch break. I'm mildly terrified at how young he is, since I swore off younger men when Mark died, but he looked older to me, so I guess I can put that aside. I'm also pretty sure I don't want anything more than maybe a date. Or two. Maybe just a new friend. And definitely not this week since I'm busy. But some time in the next few weeks, maybe a drink. That's about as far as I can see right now.

Cute guy does get brownie points for giving me his number and not asking for mine, saying that if I had his number, it would be my choice to call him or not. He also had one of the best reactions anybody has ever had to my telling them that my husband is dead. He made no weird facial responses, no big pause in his speaking, no changing the subject or fast rambling. That alone made it all okay.

I think Mark would be chuckling at me right now. And if he could have seen me, or maybe he did, when I got to my car after the cute guy asked me out, he definitely would've laughed at the sight of me eating an entire bag of chips while shaking my head in mortified reflection on how I tried to avoid the cute guy while leaving, but instead ran into him in another aisle, letting out yet another loud cackle. 

And on that note, I should probably text him. The cute guy, that is. Not Mark; he's dead. And it's been over eight hours since the incident in the store that made today the day I was asked out ON A DATE, in person, by a sober stranger, AND actually noticed and replied. I haven't the slightest idea what to say. I'm in no rush to go out with him, but I could use the practice. I figure if right now, my initial response to being asked on a date is temporary hearing loss and confusion, I've got plenty of room for growth. Why not start right now? No better moment than the present, right?

I'm running out of words to say and excuses to continue putting off giving an official response to his request to take me out. I guess I'll go do that now...