The Woman Currently Known as N

A few months after my divorce went final, I was hanging out with some close friends (a part of my "apology tour") when the wife told me that the dad had said, right after I moved out, "give Donnie a month and he'll be dating someone."  Well, he wasn't quite accurate.  He was off by a day.

31 days after I moved out of the house I'd shared with my ex-wife, N and I had our first date  Like several other first dates, we met under the clock at Union Station and took the KC Streetcar to a coffee shop.  The short walk from the front doors of Union Station to the street car platform was enough time for me to realize that this date was going to be different. I think we both fell pretty quickly for the other person's smile.

In his book, "Blink", Malcolm Gladwell asserts that we need to trust our initial, gut instinct.  I don't know whether that applies to all areas of life but it certainly applies to dating.

In one of those unknown contingencies and twists of timing that life throws our way, the date almost didn't happen.  N admitted later that she had become quite jaded from dating and wasn't sure she wanted to get her hopes up again only to get disappointed - again.  I showed up that early afternoon not sure I wanted to be there either.  Just the night before I'd just had a great second date with A, whom I was thinking might be the perfect person for what I thought I needed at the time; a short-term, but enjoyable, post-divorce relationship.  Yes, I realize the technical term is a "rebound" but that term feels so derogatory, particularly when used in reference to N.  If this was a rebound, and I think it was so much more than that, than it was a rebound due to timing and not the result of character or compatibility.

Spoiler Alert: another twist of timing precludes this story from having a happy ending, at least as far as the two of us are concerned.

N and I met on Tinder.  When I tell most married people, they seem shocked and think of Tinder as only a hook-up site.  Us middle-aged single people know, though that while they are creeps to be found and hook-ups being searched for on Tinder, there are also a lot of normal and even wonderful people looking for a second shot at love.  I am kinda surprised N agreed to go out with me, though, considering I'd made fun of her choice in beer and admitted (only half-jokingly) that I was looking for a rebound relationship before we'd even talked on the phone, let alone met in person.  Her profile stated she's too tender of a soul for Tinder.  And since she lives almost an hour away, had I not super-liked her profile, we might've never met.  Oh... those twists of fate.

It was one of those first dates where your mouth hurts from smiling and your throat is sore from talking (though maybe I was more hoarse, as I'm always the blabber...).  When we finally left the coffee shop and took our seats on the street car again (admittedly, sitting much closer together on the ride back than the ride there) we'd both all but verbally acknowledged the obvious chemistry.  I eventually gathered the courage to put my arm around her shoulder and made a bold prediction for the newly developing romance, "I'm not totally sure what is going to happen between us but I'm willing to bet it's going to be somewhere between buying matching grave plots and never going out again."

That's exactly what happened.  But so much more than that, too.  N helped heal my broken heart.  N helped me believe again in the possibility of love between two people, even when those people felt betrayed by their first loves.  N is, in fact, the type of person with whom I could purchase matching grave plots.  Well, almost that type of person.  With the obvious disclaimer that every relationship has challenges, the one which we couldn't overcome was that of timing; we simply met at the wrong time.  I just wasn't ready yet for a commitment, even a commitment to someone as wonderful as N.  I know now, though that the next time a wonderful woman is standing before me, asking to be in a relationship, I'll be ready to make the commitment (rather than crapping the bed, as I did with N).  Maybe I had to mess up my first good thing to be ready for, and more appreciative of, my next good thing.

Approximately 10 months after our first date, N has once again taken the risk to be vulnerable and is happily dating someone with whom she believes she truly does have a permanent future.  As you might've guessed, though that person isn't me.

Yes, that does hurt.  But it's my own fault.  And despite the regret, I believe it's for the best.  You can't marry your rebound, right?  At least, that's what a lot of voices were telling me, voices of people who care about me.  Not all the voices speaking into my life, though.  In particular, my parents and sister were encouraging me to stay with N because they loved her.  In retrospect, though I probably would've driven myself crazy wondering whether I'd committed too soon.  Now I just drive myself crazy wondering when I'll find someone else as great as N.  I know I will, though, there are other great people out there. It's just a matter of searching till you find them.

The more I fell for N, the more worried I became that I'd end up hurting her.  While I was able to talk with some other friends about that fear, I lacked the guts to talk with her about it (one of the many things I learned from dating her and that I plan to improve upon in my next relationship).  One of my friends, another pastor who has gone through a divorce, told me that the worst-case scenario was that I'd raise the bar for her, dating-wise.  N told me that she'd never been in a relationship with a nice guy, one who was honest and treated her well.  After we broke up, N thanked me for, indeed, raising the bar.

I broke up with her about three weeks after we got back from Paris.  Planning a trip together was a way to make a short-term but solid commitment.  The week in Paris was an incredibly fun and deeply significant week for me (though getting the full effect required a second trip on my own, which I'll write about later) When we got home, though, I started staring down the rest of my life.  So I broke up with her.  I panicked.  She didn't see it coming and it hurt her.  It hurt me, too.  I cried for a week and lost my appetite for awhile (which was a convenient jump-start to the training program I went on last summer).

You know what?  That's understandable.  I can forgive myself for that one.  What I have trouble forgiving myself for is that, about two months later, I hurt her again.  I don't have the energy to share all the details of the emotional ups-and-downs over those two months, but in yet another twist of timing (where her timeline of making a decision and my timeline didn't align), I basically broke up with her a second time.  Man, was that a shitty thing to do.

So shitty, in fact, I realized I needed to go talk through it with a professional, which I did.  I came to some realizations, but it was too little too late.  N eventually decided, rightfully so, that whatever on-again/off-again thing was happening between us needed to stop. 

The irony of it all is that the things I believed would happen to her, happened to me as well.  My heart was broken (though it was ultimately my own doing) and my own relational bar was raised.  In response to a podcast I've listened to several times as well as my time dating N, I've developed a list of "non-negotiables" and the "would-really-like-to-haves" I'll be looking for in my next long-term dating relationship.

I mentioned in my first blog entry, Le divorce, that a recent event had finally given me the motivation and inspiration to start writing again.  That event was simple yet profound, it was N texting me to wish me a "Happy Thanksgiving."  Our short catch-up conversation, while nice and friendly, brought up some emotions I needed to deal with.  When dealing with the emotions surrounding N, I realized I should go ahead and face some other emotions, too.

N shared two wonderful gifts with me, things I hadn't experienced for years.
1) Hope that I'll find love again.  Or maybe even better than hope, a confidence that a second chance at love is a high probability.  I'm not throwing my hands up in resignation nor resigning to cynicism.  I'm actually going to keep trying.  Even if it means risking more broken hearts. I have too much to offer to someone and there are too many other wonderful people out there for me to give up on the hope of finding love again.  Or, better yet the confidence that it will, in fact, happen.

2) Forgiveness.  I didn't deserve her forgiveness, considering how I hurt her, but she offered it to me anyway.  She didn't just say the words, though she actually released me as the recipient of her justified anger and resentment.  I think it was our short exchange over Thanksgiving that helped me realize she's truly forgiven me.

And truly moved on.

As I also move on, I'll take with me the gifts she shared with me.