I think I had a date tonight. And this would be my first date in, well, over three years. But maybe it wasn’t a date. I’m still not quite sure.
It all started a few weeks ago, when I ran into an old acquaintance. I was having dinner with my sister and aunt, and he was having dinner with a friend. Before I left the restaurant, I went over and said hello. I hadn’t seen this man in about 5 years, and so we did the obligatory small talk catch-up. At one point I asked how his wife and kids were and if they had any summer plans.
“My wife and I are divorced,” he replied.
To which I wanted to crawl under the table and die from embarrassment.
I ended the conversation politely and headed home.
A week later and an email appeared in my inbox, from him, asking me if I wanted to get coffee.
This brought up several questions: how did he get my email address, why could he possibly want to have coffee with me, and should I actually go?
After discussing the matter with some friends, we all deduced that coffee was pretty innocuous and that it wouldn’t hurt. He probably wanted advice from me about being a single parent, perhaps.
So after a few emails back and forth, we set a date: tonight.
We met at 6 at a local coffee shop and despite how nervous I was, it was actually a fun and easy conversation. We talked about work, kids, literature.
And then he said, “How about we take this conversation to dinner?”
I froze. I had not been anticipating this. I lied, “I already ate.”
He replied, “I haven’t eaten in 12 hours. I need to eat. Could we go somewhere and I could eat? You could get dessert, a glass of wine, a salad?”
I agreed. To say no would have been rude. I wasn’t reluctant because I was bored; I was reluctant because dinner seemed more serious than coffee. Much less innocuous.
So off to dinner we went. And the conversation got more serious. He asked about my marriage and divorce. I was totally honest. I asked about his divorce; he was honest, but guarded (which is much more appropriate than my always honest answers!).
It was decided that we both have pretty complicated lives. But he was kind and understanding, as was I to his situation.
The dinner ended when he got a call to go to work (he’s a doctor). We parted ways without any future plans and both said we had a nice time.
And I did have a nice time. I have no big hopes for this. He’s not really my type, though I feel he is a really, really nice man.
Was it a date? I’m still not sure. But it was nice to go out and talk to someone new. To share some life stories. To feel interesting for a few hours (that may actually be pushing it; he is much more interesting than me). And I am thankful for that.
After having some time to reflect on this night, I’ve realized, if he called, I’d go out with him again; sure, why not? But if he doesn’t call again, I wouldn’t be upset at all. Life is good when you’re open to possibilities, no matter what way it goes.