After messaging other guys on a dating website, I came across his profile. The first thing I noticed was his adorable friend: a sleepy puppy, cuddling against his master. The second thing I noticed was his bright eyes.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you are watching a death-defying act and you stutter a gasp? That's how it felt. I swallowed that gasp and opened up a message to compliment him on his eyes, along with his snoozing companion. This athletic and handsome guy couldn't possibly message me back. I was incredibly wrong. It was immediate. He accepted the compliment and we got to talking. What happened next surprised me: the conversations seemed natural.
I know, I know. How is that surprising? The fact that someone still wanted to talk to me. While it's never right to put one's self down, I couldn't get past how natural talking to him was. Some people call that chemistry.
Saturday night light chatting turned into Sunday morning texting. All day. It definitely helps that we had a lot in common, so conversation didn't get stale.
Naturally I was excited about the whole matter. Later I met with a friend of mine for dinner and mentioned him and how I felt like I was on training wheels for dating again. With reassuring eyes, she said that no matter what happens, I at least don't have to worry about expectations.
Come again?
When she explained it, it all made sense. Other than what I had read of him online, I didn't have other people's opinions about him, whether they were good or bad. If anyone has been set up by a friend, he or she knows that there is an image of this strange, new person you're about to meet. If it doesn't meet your expectations, you're let down and it's a bust. However, if it goes well (as it sometimes does) not all is lost. But it made me wonder.
What was I expecting out of this?
After what happened with CSB, I now know that I need in a partner, and that I have standards I'm ready to upkeep. The only expectation I had was to not waste my time on something less than deserving.
After almost three weeks of talking back and forth we were set to meet. Sadly, we hit a speedbump and life happened to him, so we had to call a rain check. What made this better was the words he said: I still definitely want to meet you.
Be still my mending heart.
That was nice to hear. And his curiosity about me made me curious too. I knew I wanted to meet him, but I was taken aback at how genuine that statement felt. It wasn't forced. None of this has been forced.
Is that what's supposed to happen?
I feel as though I'm a kid, in a neighborhood street, learning how to ride a bike again. Internally I'm begging to have the training wheels removed, but on the outside, I look as though I still need them.
This whole process has been a lesson in starting over and doing it the right way for myself. Not the easy way, not the apathetic way, not the "we'll-figure-it-out-later" way.
So far, he is a good trainer.
I could gush and go on about what we've talked about: books, our jobs, our dogs, our work, but that's not what makes it compelling. What does is that epiphany that this guy is good for me. And he probably doesn't even realize how important that is to me.
This is why I was eager to meet him, to study him, to understand what it is about him that makes me feel great. We've gone out on two dates and the scary part is admitting how much I want this to happen...and how I am willing to wait for it to get better, even if this feeling doesn't end with him.
So I'll slowly prop myself on the seat, carefully put one foot on the pedal, and then the other. With my head facing forward, head held high, I start to move with the training wheels, embracing how they are helping me take the next step without any fear.
No comments:
Post a Comment