at forty, first dates always suck!

Oh, okay, so I confess that I’ve had fun on a few of these first dates, met some interesting people (even if there wasn’t much magic) and I love meeting people in general, I love even the challenge of keeping the conversation going when it’s waning… but here’s what inevitably happens when you meet that divorced guy from the dating site for the first time:

Naturally, the burning question on everyone’s mind is “what happened?” Thus, I’m obliged to share one version or another of why my relationship deteriorated irreparably and then listen as he does the same. And, to be honest, I’m really fucking sick of talking about it. I don’t mind, I don’t feel as though I have anything to hide…I’m just weary of rehashing it every time I go out with someone new.

But my feelings about the subject cannot possibly compare to the man who sat across a bistro table from me the other day… Perhaps he knew he’d made a mistake after asking me…because, when his turn came, I could see his stomach drop as he took a deep breath and began:  “It was like a scene in a movie…”

Without his having to say another word, I knew instinctively (or intuitively?) that he’d walked in on his wife in bed with some other man. Ouch! My heart goes out to him, it really does… And I probably said something like, “Oh my God!…” or something that maybe even made it all the worse for him while I was expressing shock and then empathy.

I will always remember that moment when I’m asked once again to tell my story…as boring as it is for me to have to recount the mundane demise of my marriage, I will gladly endure a thousand more first date conversations, grateful that there is no single, traumatic image replaying in my mind when I do it…

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