Picture A) Me looking uncertain as hell waiting Picture B) My established 1st date outfit
Alright, here we go again, although I just can’t get excited about it. But I’m here, sitting by the waterfront waiting for the clock to roll around to 4:30pm. Just like with David, I’m jotting down my thoughts as I wait, although there’s a big difference. The first time my heart was about to jump out of my skin and my thoughts were racing. This time I’m surprisingly calm, although my mind is still a jumble of thoughts. Is it a bad sign that I’m not, as I was before, on the edge of my seat? I try to tell my brain not to be so pessimistic. I need it to not be pessimistic so I can give this guy a fair chance. After all, I can’t give up on the idea of love and dating after one date. Straighten up, Molly! I tell myself. You’re going to put your best foot (or boot, in this case) forward and start fresh. No negative thoughts. Alright, I look down and re-read what I’ve written:
So I’m sitting here, by the water, usually my happy place, in the same outfit I wore on my first date. It wasn’t a great date, but he did ask me out again although I said no so I’m wondering if this outfit is lucky or cursed…
But, waiting once again, I can’t quite believe I’ve become jaded from my one and only other date experience. Which wasn’t even really that bad. But instead of having butterflies or hyperventilating, I just feel an almost dull sense of dread. Maybe it’s time to take one of the special blue pills in my purse (no, not Viagra!). But I’m just kind of in a ‘let’s get this over with’ mindset, which is NOT what I want to have, not at this stage, not yet. We’re about to have dinner, but the only thing I’m hungry for is the relief I felt at the end of my first date knowing that it was over and I didn’t have to do it again.
Maybe it’s the depression speaking, but I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of ‘spinsterhood’. Society’s made it such a dirty word. It’s true that in this day and age women don’t need men as providers – of income OR sperm. Both can be acquired separately from a bank of sorts, and separately from a relationship or a marriage. I’m not saying I don’t believe in the idea of marriage, I do! My multiple wedding Pinterest boards and the stack of Harlequin novels hidden under my bed will tell you that.
But what if because of the many different factors that pertain to me, I’m simply not made for marriage, and marriage isn’t made for me?
I know this is only my second date ever, but I was walking home one day, and watching these couple of high school kids in front of me. These children, because that’s what they still are. These children holding hands were obviously together as a couple. They obviously felt something that I never have, even being eight or so years their senior. I didn’t learn to crawl, I couldn’t learn to ride a bike. Perhaps like those milestones, those kind of romantic feelings don’t exist in me. I only feel the ghosts of them in my imagination.
Is it that I’ve forgotten what companionship feels like?
Because of so many things that have been going on in my life, it’s been such a long time that I’ve been without close friends. I’ve become self-sufficient emotionally and psychologically so that the lack of human contact doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t torture my soul like it once did.
Now who’s going to take the time to fix that mess? That mess being me.
Who’s going to fix that mess indeed? I only wish I knew. Maybe the answer is waiting for me in the guy I see parking his Nissan Altima in the parking lot. Who knows?
Certainly not me.