3…2…1…Contact!
First, let me start off by saying that I’ve expanded my horizons and also joined match.com. No, I’m not pathetically desperate! I just wasn’t receiving many matches on eHarmony after the initial surge. Sounds like a military maneuver, doesn’t it? Believe me, it feels like it at times.
Can I just say that the results have been amazing? I’m currently in contact with 6, count ‘em 6 men. After the long, sad, drought that has been my love life, it looks like things might be turning around.
Yesterday, I had my first face-to-face meeting with someone that I met through eHarmony. I followed the suggested rules that eHarmony gives and arranged to meet him during the day for a “coffee” date. Apparently, this is to insure that if he turned out to be some sort of slack-jawed, mouth breather, I’d only have to suffer through one cup of coffee until I could break free. And if he happened to be an axe murderer, there would be a chance someone on the street would be able to identify him, since it’s broad daylight!
One other suggestion that eHarmony gives is that you give your date’s information (name/phone number), as well as where you are going and the time frame, to a friend so that there is a trail of breadcrumbs, so to speak. Maybe these are paranoid times we live in, but it makes sense. Let’s face it; you don’t have a clue as to what you are going to face out there – kind of like being a pioneer… or an astronaut! So, I dutifully sent an all points bulletin e-mail out to three friends and my sister. One dear friend suggested that I give her a photo of myself, so she would have something to give the police or the newspapers, in case of my untimely demise. Delightful.
Preparing for said coffee date was a trial unto itself. I’m copping to the fact that I haven’t been on a date for 11 years. What does one wear to a daytime coffee date? Someone needs to put together a list of appropriate clothing for this! We do it for weddings – we need it for dating as well. I knew that I needed to keep it casual, but I also wanted to impress the guy. Would it be appropriate to show off a little of my finer assets – i.e. a wee bit of cleavage? Would he think I’m a slut? Am I a slut? Would he think he’s getting something on the first date? Did I want to give him something on the first date? Obviously, I was over thinking this. As I mentioned, it had been 11 frickin’ years since I’d done this. I was older, but apparently no wiser. I finally decided on nice jeans, a shirt that showed some tasteful décolletage, and a blazer. Subtle make-up, too. Oh, and boots that didn’t have too high of a heel, just in case he was lying about how tall he was! Before leaving the house I played some ass kicking music to get myself psyched up… kind of like my own personal Super Bowl. I looked in the mirror, assured myself that I could do this, and left to find my own dating destiny.
Halfway there, I started to freak out. For all my show of bravery and ballsy-ness I was terrified. Not terrified that I was going to be physically harmed, but terrified that this stranger was going to take one look at me and either run away screaming or start laughing and pointing while babbling on about “truth in advertising.” I called one of my dearest friends and had him talk me down. He assured me that I had nothing to worry about. “Let’s face it,” he said, “It’s not like we’re in our 20’s anymore and this guy is expecting some supermodel.” Oh, he also told me not to worry because I was “…close to my fighting weight.” Now, I know he meant well, but in that moment, I wanted to kill him! That was NOT what I wanted to hear. I wanted, no needed to hear that I was a goddess and this guy was going to just fall on the ground in awe of my beauty and sparkling personality. Well, my friends are honest if nothing else.
I get to the café where we are scheduled to meet a few minutes early. Scope out the terrain and try to calm myself down. In my head are a million affirmations, trying desperately to be heard above the din of my insecurities. Then my cell phone rings. Great, this will be him telling me that he’s not coming, I think. I answer the phone. It is him. He wants to know if I’m at the café yet. “Yes, I am.” I tell him. He says, “Great. I’ll be there in just a minute. I’m parking.” I hang up and stare at the phone. He’s not going to bail after all. Now, I want to bail. Why in God’s name does this guy want to meet me?!!!! What is wrong with him?!!!! There is an old Groucho Marx line where he says that he wouldn’t want to be a member of any club that would have him. That thought is going through my head in that moment.
A minute later he comes walking around the corner. How do you put into words that first moment when you meet for the first time? Your mind is taking in a million bits of information. Looks, clothing, eyes, posture. “He’s cute” I thought. Does he have all the digits on his hands? Is there a tell tale sign of a wedding ring anywhere? He looked at me and gave me a surprised smile. And it was the good kind. Sort of like he went, “Oh, thank God! This is okay!” We laughed and shook hands. Suddenly, in my head I thought, “I can do this! I remember how to do this!” I wanted to dance around that damned restaurant, laughing gleefully with the knowledge that this kind of stuff wasn’t just reserved for 20 something supermodels! There was hope. I made a resolution, half jokingly at the New Year. Getting a date in 2008. Shit. I’d done it. And it was only March 1st.
Next time… Second dates and who’s next?
Tags: dating, over 40, romance
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March 2, 2008 at 9:41 pm
Diva my love, you are the best. You did it girl. Maybe I will make the same New Years resolution for next year…….. it is never too late….:)