Dinner, and the discussion of dating

“Was I invited because I’m struggling?” I finally asked, having made easy small talk since my arrival several minutes before. Jay and Little Cousin were at the store, so Cousin and I were alone in the kitchen as she peeled potatoes.

“Nope.” She said, turning to glance at me. “We just wanted to see you. Are you struggling?”

“A bit.” I said, pleased when I realized I wasn’t going to cry. I felt strong somehow – loved and settled. “I got depressed. Pretty badly.”

“How come? Work?” She waited for me to shake my head. “Being here? Personal?”

I shrugged at personal, and nodded when she asked if I was OK.

“I am, I think. It was so bad – the moods – but the actual situation might have been kind of...” I trailed off, filling my glass with water and taking a seat at the table.

“Well, hello.” I said, smiling as Little Cousin toddled in at top speed. She’s beautiful – all big eyes and wide smile and softly curling hair. She clung to Cousin’s leg and accepted her mother’s greetings as well.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cousin asked. Fair question, since I’d brought it up.

“What are we talking about?” Jay looked between us after emerging from the basement stairs, trying to catch up.

“Nothing. It’s… There was a guy and I liked him, and it didn’t work.”

Cousin shook her head and returned to her potatoes. “Men are assholes.” Jay nodded his agreement when I looked at him, so I laughed. They’re such a sweet couple. Balanced and easy, loving but not cloyingly sweet. I remembered meeting him for the first time – I think I was still in high school – and Cousin said they were not dating. He was too young, too silly, not her type. She hadn’t been divorced for long enough. Sometimes people you desperately want end up not working. And sometimes the ones you don’t realize you want end up working out perfectly. It keeps life interesting.

“How’d you meet him?” Jay asked, curious yet happily gentle. He waited only a moment while I considered how to tell the story before continuing to prod. “Bar? Online? Work? Friends?”

“Online.” I said with a smile, reminded of my Pictionary strategy. I just keep naming words, any words – I tend to eventually find the correct answer.

“Does he know where you live?” He continued, and I pictured him mentally reviewing the security measures put in place when I moved in last year.

“Um…maybe. I don’t know, actually. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s definitely not coming.” I said, laughing because I’d once lamented the opposite problem.

We covered some of the details. “I keep an online journal of sorts.” I tried to describe, then watched them try to look like that was a normal thing to do in their world.

“Like MySpace?” Jay confirmed, and I shook my head, ridiculously offended before I realized what I was doing. Why in the world would I think having a Blogger account somehow makes me cooler or more sophisticated than having one on MySpace? So I giggled a bit at myself again before offering a more detailed explanation of what I do here. Finally decided it’d help if I actually knew.

“The plan was perfect!” I insisted, watching them smile back at me. “I was honest and open and tried for charming. So when someone read and liked what he wrote, he’d already know me. It sort of weeds out the ones who aren’t interested in all the trouble. So then he was supposed to email, we’d fall madly in love, then everything would shift into place!”

“But…” Jay said, smiling easily since I didn’t appear to be upset at all.

“Yeah, I know.” I frowned playfully. “The plan was good though. There was something left to be desired in the execution.”

The truth is that it’s over. It ended, then it ended again, then I wrote about it on my blog. Then I forgave him, because – let’s face it – I’ve hardly behaved well here lately. I took a private situation and made it public. Told a one-sided series of events. I prayed about it, then realized I wasn't angry anymore. "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors" and all that. I take it seriously, so we wrote a few emails, and this final ending feels right to me.

I’m getting through it – there are weird moments where I forget that I don’t have someone to think about. That I was thinking about the wrong person for a really long time. So when I drift there accidentally, I offer a gentle rebuke. And my brain sheepishly says, “Oops. Habit. Sorry.” And we move on.

People make questionable decisions. Dating is hard. Sometimes I hurt someone – we discussed Ryan at dinner – and sometimes I get hurt. It is, for me, the cost of playing the game. Men haven’t been – and likely won’t ever be – simple for me. I’m certainly not gorgeous and I tend toward dramatic and complicated. While I hope to find the person who appreciates all my traits and quirks, I’m content for now to not hurt so badly after the last one. To look at the situation and think, “Goodness. I hope he turns out OK. I hope I find someone who can love me.” Rather than falling into a pit of despair over how soul-crushingly awful this experience was.

My feeling is that regardless of the end, losing someone is hard. But tonight? I had grilled steak and the promised mashed potatoes. Nibbled corn off the cob and carefully spooned up apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Watched Little Cousin run, talk, eat and play. Took dating advice, pleased that I could say, “I tried that.” to some of it. Realized I’m not bitter or angry or anything other than a bit sadly relieved. I know how to be single. I’ve been alone far more often than attached, and, to be fair, my recent attachment was all in my head. I heard horror stories about married couples who were painfully wrong together, and smiled.

No, I told them, I've never gotten drunk with a man, then went in to get a pizza only to return to the parking lot to find he'd forgotten not only about me but why he was in the parking lot at all. Never stood on a curb, pizza box in hand, looking for someone who'd gone home without me.

"Did she walk home?" I asked after hearing of their friend, and Cousin shook her head.

"He went back to get her. After she called." She offered.

"And then they fought." Jay sang, and we laughed and laughed.

I got ready to leave, taking a bag of candy I’d bought for Little Cousin’s playground fundraiser, and thanked them for dinner and the company. I was quickly invited back because we do have fun together – there’s conversation and laughter and warmth.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cousin said softly as she hugged me, Little Cousin perched on her hip since she’d just given me a kiss goodbye. I whispered I loved her in return, ever so proud that I didn’t want to cry.

“I’m sorry it ended.” Jay said, giving a hug of his own before opening the front door and turning on the porch light.

“No.” I said thoughtfully. “The beginning was fantastic. The ending was inevitable. I think you should just be sorry that it lasted so long.”