Dating Rules: how to get your groove back
I have only been on a few dates in my life. In other words, I’ve been in a series of long-term relationships since sixth grade. It’s been a new and much-needed experiment then, spending the last few years single. And of course, Covid secured it. But I’m not really a solo act. Turns out, I long for partnership.
So under the not-gentle coercion of my adult children, I took the plunge and signed up for a world that didn’t exist last time I checked: online dating. It felt smarmy taking those quizzes. Unnatural. No fun at all. A lot of those sites don’t even let you choose your own words. I’ve always sucked at multiple choice questions. Bombed the SATs. Am a nightmare at the DMV. “Don’t you understand? Everything is subjective. I mean if you’re having a baby…you should be able to run a red light.” Eyeball roll. “Mom. Try not to be that person. Okay? Unless you want to stay single forever.” Groan.
What’s up with all the photos of guys in cars? And in the bathroom? Or snuggling with their pillows in bed? Remember I live in Montana. A lot of what people love in Montana has to do with holding a dead deer by the antlers. In full cammo. I can’t even kill a spider. Maybe a fish. Nothing with eyelashes. Plus the dating pool is small in a small town, so I expanded my geography setting by a hundred miles. Why not?
And then I saw this guy who really did seem like a needle-in-a-haystack great match for me. Even though he lives 2.5 hours away. Maybe that would be a perfect scenario. I mean, I’ve gotten so used to living solo. I like my private time. My career depends on it. But…what to do next? I felt like I was sixteen. How exactly does one…date?
I needed advice.
· Don’t email or text. Meet in person straight away. You need to see if there are pheromones, and you can only do that in person.
I ignored this advice. Meet in person straight away? No way. I’m a writer. I need to write to this guy first. That’s my “superpower.” Apparently it was his too. We emailed long, heady tomes back and forth, sharing about our pasts and our presents and what we want for our futures. We had things in common that were wildly rare, especially for around here. Stuff I don’t really bring up. Like the 12th century mystics. Like Requiem. And he was deep. He was funny. And he was smart. Huh.
It moved fluidly into Facetime. We both agreed that there was chemistry even though we weren’t sharing oxygen. He talks as much as I do. He tells a lot of stories. Good. I want an equal. And telling stories is a large part of who I am. He’s an artist who has committed his life to his art as much as I have. He’s also a teacher, which was a surprise turn in his life. Me too! He also loves his work. Me TOO! He’s also got adult kids who are well-fledged and whom he loves to the moon and back. ME TOO!!!
Then it moved to texts. I hate texts. Texts are ruining the English language. But his were fun and I started to look at them like a form of haiku. And then one night I mentioned that I couldn’t make our Facetime date the following night because I’d just found out about a fund-raiser that I felt I needed to attend to support my friend. And he texted back something to the tune of: “Might you want a man on your arm?”
My response: “Uhhhhhhhh. Yes? Gulp.” Send.
TOMORROW? He was driving 2.5 hours just to take me on a date? With a bunch of people he didn’t know? Holy s***!
That’s when I enlisted the help of people who have fought for love. Won. Lost. Lived to tell the tale:
Here’s the advice I got. I hope that it helps you if you are walking a similar walk. And if you are: godspeed. I learned a lot, and the long-and-short of it is at the end of this essay.
But first, the advice…
Preparing for the Date:
Every single one of them said this in some iteration:
· Enjoy yourself!
And this:
· It’s not like you have to marry this guy. If it turns into a relationship, great. If not, maybe you’ve got yourself a new friend.
· If it doesn’t work out, at least you’re putting yourself out there. Maybe he’s not the guy, but maybe he’ll end up connecting you with one of his friends who is.
· Spend time this week thinking about how you would like this to unfold. Write it down, meditate, pray, whatever… but also ASK FOR SIGNS. You will know when you get them. (Check out the heart shape in the mountain in the featured photograph…)
Okayeeeeeeee….???
How to Navigate the Actual Date:
· Be yourself.
I hate when people tell me that. It’s like when you’re upset with your teen and he says, “Calm down!” It doesn’t make you calm. Plus there are varying degrees of being your “self.” I mean I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to meet a woman in a restaurant in the T-shirt and pajama bottoms she slept in, and no bra or underwear.
· Try to look sexy.
When’s the last time you looked in your closet, drawers, and mirror and tried for sexy? I look for comfort in the closet and drawers. Which means that out of all my clothes, I wear approximately five things, all baggy and worn. Holey even. The clothes I was trying on had actual dust on them. (Thank you, Covid!) I managed to find an old silk dress that fit. And an old pair of super strappy sandals I bought for a wedding and never wore. That was all the sexy I had in me or my wardrobe.
· Don’t bowl him over with intensity. That’s my 50 cent advice. Men scare easily.
I’m screwed. I don’t know how to not be intense. Even when I try to tone it down, I’m a lot. (ie: When I ask someone how they are, I want to really know.)
· Don’t jump into something quickly or he’ll want to pump the brakes.
Don’t worry. Worry for the other way around!
· If it’s one thing I’ve learned it’s to hang way back and not over share. Men say they like intensity but they don’t. They like cool.
Again with the intensity thing. Okay okay. I’ll be cool. I can be cool. I really can. I really really can. Right?
· 190% of all men HAVE to do the chasing. Full stop. It’s hard wired.
No problem there. A 2.5 hour drive each way is definitely “chasing.”
· Don’t be needy.
What does that even mean? Everybody’s needy. We need things. What am I supposed to pretend I don’t need? Dinner? World peace? Happiness? Opposable thumbs? A partner? Isn’t that why I’m online dating? Am I supposed to act like it’s a mistake that I’m on there? Like I’m really just trying to shop for boots?
· Be a good listener. Guys like to talk about themselves.
But I like a guy who talks. They just have to ask questions too…
Actual Date:
I asked a lot of questions. Probably my bad. So I didn’t get asked a lot of questions. But it was a good date. A really good date. And there were definitely pheromones…
Processing the Date:
It’s amazing how quickly you can go from feeling sixteen to the exact, seasoned woman that you are. I didn’t want to lose this feeling. That whirling swirling rush. I felt like I was alive again. I didn’t know that I was “dead.”
Here’s what my friends had to say. I love my friends.
· It seemed like you were diggin him and he was diggin you. He seems like a really cool guy!
· I am so so happy for you. It’s so fun to see you giddy and happy and light! You’ve carried a big load for many years.
· It sounds like you hit the jackpot!
· About freaking time! You don’t get to be taken care of very often. Good for you!
· Short texts are normal. I think you both are probably feeling the same way and you are just a better writer…
· You are both in the processing/what the f*** just happened stage and that’s a good thing.
· Do you think that this can this happen again? Or was it a one-time thing? What do you want?
Here’s where it got utterly flummoxing. This thing called texting. There’s a protocol. Like picking up the phone is some sort of sinful deal breaker these days. It becomes a game. And I hate playing games with people. You get what you get. I am what I am. Now I’m supposed to be some sort of spinner of something pheromonal in 1–7 words? I…don’t…get…it.
Unsolicited Advice on Texting and Emailing: (I mean, apparently the post date protocol is a thing? And remember…I’m a book writer. And my friends know it. That’s the issue.)
All of this advice was excruciating. I’m really not a game player. And it didn’t seem like he was either. But these women know things…
· Keep them short. It shows you’re busy and it’s a little bit mysterious.
That’s so not me…
· Only one text or email a day. And never two in a row. You want him to be thinking and wondering.
I mean…maybe? I mean didn’t we already get past this step with the long emails and Facetimes and then our date? Is there some sort of test now that we’ve had the first date?
· If he’s thinking of you and trying to keep connected and stay in your world, he will text short texts often. Just keeping in touch. If he’s not really into you he won’t do that.
But he’s a busy man. And do I really want short texts all day long anyway? My wifi doesn’t even receive a lot of my texts. I go to the grocery store and like a week of texts ping in.
· Do not text as though you are having a conversation with yourself. Texting should not be a diary or journal. LOL.
What does this one even mean?
The texting flowed. The emails stopped. I managed to not play games. Unless you call looking at your phone every 30 seconds a game. I didn’t recognize myself. I don’t think of myself as obsessive. Maybe it was just a game I was playing with myself. Whatever it was…it wasn’t fun.
And then a text came in:
How about you show me some of those lakes you have up there and we go trout fishing.
I haven’t fished in years. I’d love that. I have two kayaks.
Perfect. So Saturday?
Date #2. It was also wonderful. It included trout fishing. More music. Dinner out. And so much togetherness, which was so new to me. He liked to hold hands. Pull out chairs. Share stories. His love language was definitely touch. And acts of service. Mine too!
I liked it. A lot.
And then…radio silence.
On Radio Silence:
This part was so confusing. To have so much attention shined my way. And then suddenly…nothing? I mean, granted, he was on a fishing trip in a remote part of the state. Still, a quick text? I felt sub-sixteen then. Now I was looking at my phone every 10 seconds. My emails too. My voicemails. Only when I was sixteen…we didn’t have any of that stuff. What did I do wrong? Maybe nothing. I’m pretty sure I did nothing but ‘be myself.’ Uh oh.
I asked my 21 year old son and his friends. They said: “He’s on a fishing trip in Montana. There’s probably no cell service.”
Then I asked a 25 year old woman:
· What is this guy doing?!?! Is he crazy? I hope he surfaces soon and doesn’t completely blow it. But if he does…who needs him.
Then a few 5o+ year old friends:
· Maybe he got into an accident.
· Maybe his phone is at the bottom of the river.
· Remember, no games. Go ahead and call him. It makes sense that you would want to check in since it’s been several days.
I called. Got his voice mail. Checked social media. No updates…
I felt so powerless. I do NOT like that feeling. But only as powerless as a person can feel after only knowing someone for a few months. Still…I felt like I really knew this guy. And it was special. We both confirmed that over and over. “This really could work. It really could.”
I tried to focus on the most important thing: I had allowed myself to be open and vulnerable to a seemingly fabulous man again…and that was new and exciting and terrifying. But the silence was hard. I genuinely cared for him and what if he really did get into some sort of accident. Don’t perseverate, I heard in my grandmother’s voice.
How exactly does one not perseverate when a consistent behavior pattern just stops after a few months and for no apparent reason? I mean there was every indication that he was really into me. He even had plans to fix some things around the house. (His idea.) That’s skin in the “game.” Only we weren’t playing games. At least I wasn’t.
So I phoned a friend: “Can I come over? I need live girlfriend advice.”
Better than advice…she listened to the story. Turns out I needed to tell the story. It was a good story. It took a while.
She wept. “He sang Fire and Rain for you on your guitar and you sang together? He played you Bach on your grandmother’s piano? Maybe there really are great men out there. Maybe I should try again too. Even if you never see him again, I would call it a major win. You’re getting your groove back. Covid has made it extra hard. I’m so happy for you.”
The End:
A few days later, I heard from him. He was, in fact, ill and hospitalized. Bleeding ulcer. Hence the radio silence. He sent me an email explaining. An email? I mean…
He realized in the hospital that he’s looking for a future wife. And we live too far away from each other. Neither of us is willing to move. And while I’m an “amazing woman” he needs someone close by that he can care for and who can care for him. Something like that.
I appreciated his honesty. But it stung a bit. I wish I’d known that was his deal breaker. He didn’t act like it was. Why ever would he come all the way up here? And back. Twice? I guess sometimes we have to literally bleed inside to see our truth. We agreed that we’d made a good friend in one other.
Here’s what I learned from this experience: that feeling you feel in that whirly swirly blur…is complete. It doesn’t take anyone else to lob it back to you. It’s all yours. You experienced it. It’s yours yours yours. And that is all you need. In the end. You don’t lose your power as long as you look at it like that. It might take two to tango, but your part of the experience belongs to you. No one can take that away from you. Not with a missing text or radio silence or a hospital epiphany that means you must part ways.
Here’s what else I learned: the wisdom of friends who truly love you is vast and varied and complex. The key is to call on them. I realized that I haven’t called on friends in a long time. How can a friend know your heart if you don’t share it? How can a friend help if you don’t ask for it? Friends like to help.
I wonder what will happen next. I guess I have to believe now that there are men out there who I can connect with in a profound way. And some might be short chapters. And that…is still a gift.
