NL#4: Am I Really Doing This?

"Am I really doing this?”  I ask myself this question – out loud even.  Well, I am in my car.  “How did it come to this?”  I never thought I’d be on a blind date again in my lifetime.  I suppose there really aren’t any “blind” dates anymore.  The Internet allows us to see basic info and even some photographs.  We’ve also been texting each other through the “app”.  So, I’m supposed to have some idea who Kay is.  But it is so easy to be fake.

When were those photos taken?  Is she really all the things she says she is?  How do I know she’s not a monster?  Of course, I assume she’s asking these questions about me as well.

I’m early of course, a habit of mine so I have a lot of time to think sitting in my car in the parking lot.  I’m incredibly uncomfortable.  I had already texted Kay my marital status and gave a brief explanation.  I vowed to myself to not going out without this disclosure.  How uncomfortable is she?  What kind of woman willing sees a man she already knows is married?  Does she understand and accept my situation?

Damn!  This is hard!  A big part of me really doesn’t want to do this.  I keep reassuring myself that I’m not cheating.  I’m not doing wrong.  I’m not a bad person and I deserve some happiness instead of being a prisoner in my own home.  But the guilt is there.  “Am I really doing this?”

There’s the text that she has arrived.  There’s no turning back now as I exit my car and head towards the restaurant.  I guess this is where the authenticity of our photos is tested.  Will we recognize each other?

I see her.  She gets there just before I do and I note that she looks every bit like the photographs I’ve seen.  This is good.  She doesn’t fake it.  “Hello Kay, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”  I got that out okay.  Kay warmly greets me.  She is nicely dressed in a somewhat low-cut green dress.  This, for some reason doesn’t help my growing apprehension.  If she had dressed more casually, I would have taken it more as a casual meeting.  Now I’m dealing with someone who is essentially saying ‘This is meaningful.’  I manage a “Shall we?” as I do open the door and allow her to enter first. 

Martini for her, glass of Cabernet for me, bread on the table and we’re through the first round of small talk.  Kay’s daughter had recently left home, leaving Kay with the desire to date which is something she’s been doing for nearly a year.  I talk a little about my work and that I mostly work at home and that it is pretty much my whole life.

This inevitably leads to the discussion of what is really going on with my marriage.  I tell her its what I had texted her earlier.  “This is not a relationship that anyone would define as ‘marriage’.”  I admit to being very uncomfortable about the discussion, but I know it’s important and we have to get past it.

Was it the way I conveyed it?  I can sense her demeanor has changed as suddenly, I’m seeing a look that’s a combination of pity and condescension.  “The one who has to get past this is you.  If you really felt the way you say you do, you wouldn’t be so fidgety.  You started the evening off as a tower of strength, but now you’re slinking into your seat and your voice pitch is higher.  You can’t deny that you still love your wife.”

I guess years of being a teacher made her very able to read people.  “I do love my wife.  I never said I didn’t.  You’re right that I’m uncomfortable.  I can’t shake the fact that I feel I’m betraying her.  Staying home and feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help me.  I need to meet people.  I need this to remind myself that there are those out there who aren’t depending on me to come through for them.”

We continued talking through dinner about other parts of our livelihoods.  Looking at her, it was apparent that she didn’t feel the evening measured up to the expectations she had.  I wonder what they really were.

I just finished my first “First Date” in 26 years.  I’m not sure I can go through this again.

 

NL#3: The News

The outdoors was misty but not raining and I’m harbored in a café with her and her co-worker.  Over beers and sandwiches, we casually talk about work.  There’s not a whole lot, so the conversation turns to more pedestrian stuff like the food.  I must say here, that I can be awkward, even in smaller situations like this, but I definitely prefer it to noisy karaoke bars.  After mutual agreement that the food is very good, he smiles at me and I know something is coming.  “She is now engaged.”

On a cold, wet day late in winter, this is where my heart breaks and my whole world crumbles, right?

Instead, oddly enough, I find myself feeling relief.  Relief!  Relief that the complications that I had conceived would be in my future dissipated.  Relief that I wouldn’t have to keep trying to come up with excuses to see her to get her attention.

“Congratulations!  That’s very wonderful news!  I’m so happy to hear that and so happy for you!”  These words just came out of me genuinely, nothing fake.  She gleams.  I could tell she was pleased with my reaction.  I wonder if she would have told me if her co-worker hadn’t.  I tempt myself to go over to her side of the table and hug her, but I don’t.  I feel too self-conscious all of a sudden.  Instead, I lightly raise my glass.

I ask when will the event happen.  “November” she says.  “Back east”.  I put on a little show of disappointment.  “But I won’t have a chance to dance with the bride!”  This was an unusual thing for me to say since I don’t like dancing and am very bad at it.  She laughingly replies “Well, if you really want to dance, we can arrange something before.” I laugh back and put my hands up and slightly shake my head “That’s okay.  I’d just trip anyways.”

The three of us part.  I wonder when I’ll see her again.  Despite the news, I hope it won’t be too long.

I’m afraid that the sky will open up as I walk back to my car, I think to myself, ‘I’m truly happy for her.  How odd!’  I realize it was love.  I really loved her!  And real love means that her happiness and fulfillment are more important than mine.  I know there would be times coming up when I will forget that and feel sad for myself.  I’ll just have to try to remember that first reaction.  I’m frankly, a little proud of myself for the way I handled the news.  Too many times in other situations, I’ve reacted poorly and said the wrong thing.

I got back to my car dry and satisfied.

NL#2: Goodnight

A nice round of applause and even a shout occurs as we finish up our duet.  I get a nice little hug.  As we sit back down, she apologizes for not knowing the song as well as she’d like.  I smile at her and tell her she did great and I hope she had fun while doing it.  I also bring up the fact that I screwed up one line and know the song so I have no excuse.  She says “No worries! It’s always fun with you Robert.  You surprise me every time you go up there.  You’re so different when you’re not in trial.”

She’s right of course.  When working, I’m almost all business, intense even.  I’m glad she realizes there’s more to me than the oftentimes stern and critical technician she sees in various courtrooms.  Sitting down and taking in a few good swigs of beer, I get a few “good job” gestures and it’s not long before I’m back in my shell.  She’s now talking with the guys.  I pretend to listen in, but I can’t distinguish voices with all the background noise so as usual, I don’t know what’s going on.  It’s almost 11 and I finish my beer and get ready to go up and request my third, and almost certainly last song.  I’ve been debating this one.  Do I dare somber down and go with Herb Alpert’s “This Guy’s In Love With You”.  I know it well.  I used to sing it to my wife, but now I have a different target in mind.  I ask the passing waiter for a Coke and I wonder if I should go through with it.  I’d sing the song looking straight ahead and certainly not at her.  I have some cute gestures I like to do with this number.  It’s too on-target!  Plus, she’s had a few and the bar is louder than ever and full of half, maybe even a few fully drunk patrons.  She may not notice.  I’ll save it for another night and do a real attention getter instead.  I’ve been wanting to do “Enter Sandman” by Metallica for a while.  I’m not a hard rocker, but I can roar with the best of them.  I got to get some sugary cola down my throat though.  It will prepare my voice better.

I got a bit hoarse at the end, but really got the crowd going.  There was a good deal of laughter when I got back to the gang.  It was fun for me.  It was fun for them watching me, an old guy stroll around the little stage and scare everyone with my intense heavy metal growl.  I get told that they never imagined me doing anything like that.  I tell them I forgot my leather pants.  More laughter ensues.  She comes over and hugs me.  I hug her back strong and long here.  She’s a bit intoxicated and I can smell the cigarette smoke on her so I was able to get a bit extra touchy-feely.  She felt so good.  It was tough to let go. 

I look her in the eyes and tell her I will have to be leaving soon.  “Awww, I know you have a long drive home.”  Yes, I was tired and a bit burned out.  As I had mentioned, these crowded gatherings are exhausting to an Aspie. 

The drive home tonight will just have me frustrated.  I’ll keep thinking of things I should have said.  I’ll start thinking of what to do next.

NL#1: Attention

 ‘Why does it always have to be so noisy?’ People all around me, uncomfortable hard chair, slightly sticky tabletop below my hand, and a cold Stella in the other hand, but still on the table.  I’m uncomfortable.  I can’t distinguish the voices around me.  I hope no one is speaking to me because I wouldn’t be aware.  Public places are a challenge for an Aspie.  Just sitting in the wooden chair wears me out physically and even spiritually.  But I’m glad to be here.  I need to be here.

I sip my beer and attempt to chat.  My limited range of subjects to chat about have me bringing up a question concerning our work.  I don’t really want to talk shop, but I can’t think of anything else.  I hate small talk.  I remember the movie “As Good As It Gets” with Jack Nicholson sitting down at a restaurant with Helen Hunt and after about 2 exchanges and maybe 3 or 4 sentences, Jack just exasperatingly says how exhausting this was.  I can relate.

Finally, the karaoke host enters and the reasons for being in this little restaurant/bar come into focus.  Despite the messy distractions, I had grown very fond of karaoke.  It may be a weird thing to say, but it’s probably my best form of expression.  Going up in front of people has never been a problem for me.  Speaking my mind, on the other hand, would be fatal because I know I’ll say the wrong thing or trip over my words so badly.  But karaoke is scripted.  It’s laid right out there on the monitor of what to sing and when to sing it.

I almost always know what my song selections will be for the night.  I may pretend to look in the book – actually, this place doesn’t even have the books, it’s all online now which means ‘Forget about it!’ as far as I’m concerned.  I know because every song I do has a purpose.  Tonight, I’m opening with “All About Soul” from Billy Joel.  This is an old favorite of mine.  I always wanted this to be about my wife.  At one time, much of it was – the woman of faith and devotion who soothes my soul.  Alas!  That time is past.  So, I do this number because I still love the song, I do it well, and…she’ll hear it.  Will she be impressed by my Billy Joel impression?  Will she be impressed by the passionate way I perform the song?  Will she be impressed that I would choose such a spiritual and meaningful work and would that change and improve her perception of me?  In my fantasy, yes to all the above.  In reality, I wish I knew.

Back at the table.  The group, that includes her, all praise me.  I smile and thank them all.  It’s a good supportive group of people.  I’m grateful and lucky to know them.  I take in a few sips of beer and get back up and approach her.  I finally get her attention and remind her that we had talked about doing a duet together the last time.  I tell her I’m not accustomed to duets and have only done it a handful of times.  I’m going to ask her if she was familiar with “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee.  Unlike the first song, this one is more direct and I have to hope she would have fun with it and the words from me (Elton) would stick in her brain for a while.  Second choice is “Love Shack” by The B-52’s.  It's a nutty song and I do the Fred Schneider voice really, really well.  This would get a good crowd reaction.  I’d have to hope she would be impressed by my ability to have fun with a song.

Right now, I just want her attention.