"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.
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