Prelude to a Nervous Breakdown – An Epic Tale

Part One

What I find myself doing all too often is hoping that the guy I am on a date with feels that I am right for him and I never seem to consider that he may not be right for me.

Lately I have been placing too much importance on getting back into a relationship, which has never been a strong characteristic of mine. I have always been self-sufficient and able to enjoy my life without a man by my side. My interests and passions are plentiful and fill me with an enormous abundance of joy.

Last evening’s date went very well, I thought. He was very attractive, smart, energetic and optimistic, and he seemed to enjoy my company very much. We began with a glass of wine at the bar and he issued me a promotion (as perceived by me) to the next level, suggesting that we move into the restaurant and have dinner. Conversation flowed nicely. We laughed, as well as discussed serious matters, such as our personal opinions and experiences using the online dating medium. I shared with him my appreciation for honesty and for being told up-front whether my date is interested in a second date or whether he feels we are not a match. Maybe the mistake I made was elaborating the simplicity of simply packaging rejection into the phrase, “Take care.” He picked up the tab, which is not a requirement of mine at all, since I am not really moved one way or the other by chivalrous gestures.

As we exited the restaurant, I turned and enthusiastically informed him that I would like to see him again if he was also interested in a second date to which he replied, “Great!” Perhaps he should have bitten down on his tongue, instead.

He offered to walk me to my car, which I perceived as very gentleman-like. I accepted the offer, as well as his request for me to drive him to his car, which I was more than happy to do.

Once next to his car, I shifted my own car into “park” and we thanked each other. He proceeded to lean in for a kiss and even though I have historically prided myself on the fact that I have never kissed on a first date, I decided to make an exception in this case. I liked him and I wanted to kiss him and he seemed to like me, too. After all, men don’t kiss women unless they intend to see them again, right? So I decided to change my virtuous ways and act charitable in the holiday spirit of giving.

Kissing him was nice. Up until last night, I had never engaged in a kiss-fest with somebody I had just met two hours before. Maybe that’s prudish. Something about this man made me want to kiss him and something about our kiss made me feel very proud of my own growth in that area. We sat in my car sharing a few moments locked in a kiss and when we were finished I thanked him for a lovely evening and he replied, “You’re welcome. Take care.”

One his way out of the car he reiterated, “Take care.”

Part Two

I didn’t put two and two together until I had driven halfway down the street. He didn’t want to see me again and he very smoothly indicated his lack of intent in no uncertain terms. My body went numb and I wondered what had just happened. He honored my wish and rejected me in one fell swoop.

I dialed Carol’s number thinking she might still be awake at 10:15 PM. She didn’t answer the phone. I drove myself home hashing out the evening’s events in my head. He kissed me, so he must have found me attractive. That ending isn’t the worst kind of conclusion. I tried to deny my way out of the rejection thinking that maybe he didn’t realize what he was saying and maybe I would send him an e-mail stating that I had surmised he was telling me he did not intend to go on a second date with me…y’know, give him a chance to clear things up and realize that he had mistakenly told me to “take care” out of habit.

Luckily, and sadly, reality seeped in and I slowly began to realize he probably didn’t find me to be a match for him. I briefly troubled myself with all of the possibilities I could dream up for his reasons, and anybody who knows me knows that any reasons I can dream up are going to be meaner and more deprecating that those of an outsider.

I arrived at home, ascended the five flights of stairs to my apartment, entered and promptly fell apart at the seams.

I wanted Chris alive again. I wanted my husband. I screamed and gathered all of my blankets and pillows into a heap meant to mirror the body mass of my sweet Chris and I held on for dear life telling him I needed him, I loved him, that his death is not fair, that I hate the uncertainty of dating and that I cannot do life without him. I thought about my future and how I could cut it short and each time my mind returned to the reality of his absence in my life, I was hit hard with another wave of the truth that smashed my body around on the reefs, slamming me against rocks and dunes and drowning me in my own endless undertow of despair. I wanted to drown. I wanted darkness to close in and take me away from the pain of living without him. I snapped.

The phone rang. It was Carol. I hate to sound so mellow-dramatic but hearing her voice last night was like hearing angels sing.

I have stopped putting all of my grief on Carol. As friends go, she has performed above and beyond what I would expect from any friend. Last night, the dam holding back my grief burst and an entire two years worth of sadness and surrender came pouring out as I told Carol that I want him back, alive and well. She very graciously offered to stay on the phone with me for as long as I needed her and I took advantage of her offer. My reaction, last night, scared me to my core and gave me some much needed insight into my level of readiness with regard to dating.

By the time I was ready to relinquish my grip on Carol, the two of us were laughing at the irony of how all I wanted to do was run home and tell my husband about my horrible dating experience.

Whether I decide to continue dating or recharge my battery for a while and find happiness in all of the other activities in my life that bring me joy, I have come full circle and realized that I was out with a lovely man, last night, who was sensitive, honest and accommodating enough to let me down easy, in exactly the manner I had requested.

Exhale.

Shneed