I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late for our first date. He already had a table and stood like a gentleman when I approached. The breath suddenly stuck in my lungs. I felt panic-stricken. If I could have made my legs move, I’m certain I would have run away that very instant. He was much too cute!
I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late for our first date. He already had a table and stood like a gentleman when I approached. The breath suddenly stuck in my lungs. I felt panic-stricken. If I could have made my legs move, I’m certain I would have run away that very instant. He was much too cute!
Wavy sun-kissed locks of hair danced across his tan face and soulful brown eyes. His perfect pink lips parted wryly to reveal a smile so warm I was forced to question the meaning behind it. Every instinct screamed, “You’re out of your league!” But I was here. I was stuck. Let’s get it over with.
When he ordered a domestic bottleneck at the semi-posh restaurant, I resisted an urge to swoon. When he laughed at my jokes, I fought back the confidence that began to build. When we finished dinner and he asked if we could go for coffee, I cursed myself for agreeing. Why prolong the agony? Why postpone the inevitable? This smart, funny, beautiful man could have coffee with any guy he wanted, so why not just rip this Band-Aid off quickly?
At the end of our six-hour date he kissed me and I couldn’t fight anymore. I let him. It was better than I had hoped and I found myself never wanting to stop. That night I vowed if I could ever have this wonderful man in my life, I would never let him go.
During the four year relationship that spawned from that first date, I forgot that feeling. Excitement, thrill and passion had morphed into a mortgage, trash day and dry cleaning. The full-size bed that was once too big for our intertwined bodies was replaced with a king-size and miles of space between us. We bought things we didn’t need to fill a void that was never there when we had nothing and all the adorable characteristics that once made me love him more now only annoyed me. Showering together every day was irritating when I just wanted to get clean. Spooning became cumbersome when I just wanted to sleep.
When he left and I had the shower and the bed all to myself, they suddenly felt so empty. It wasn’t until he was gone that I was able to remember that first date, that fear and exhilaration, that moment when I felt more alive than ever.
Why don’t we know what we’ve got ’til it’s gone? We can want something so badly…hope, wish and pray for it, then get it and quickly forget how important it once was. When you have it all, the only thing you lack is desire. Is the ‘wanting’ what we want the most?
Three years after the divorce I’m still single, probably because I am selfish, stubborn and impossibly neurotic, but I like to think otherwise. While I’m single, I can still get excited over first dates and first kisses. I can appreciate little things that I would inevitably take for granted once I’m in a relationship and I’ve broken the poor bastard’s spirit. I can still want more…and isn’t that really what we want the most?
