Today is the fourth anniversary of the first time I met DD in real life.
We’d been chatting via RSVP for a few days before deciding to have a cider together at a suburban pub.
For some unfathomable reason he thought it was appropriate – on a first date – to take his thongs off and put his bare feet on the chair beside me … while giving a no-holds-barred rundown of his tumultuous love life.
For some unfathomable reason I thought it was appropriate – on a first date – to reveal I’d written a blog post about dinosaur porn that went viral and lead to HouseGoesHome accidentally becoming one of the top Google search entries for a graphic sex act called The Triceratops.
I walked away from the pub thinking “arrogant, puts his bare feet on chairs, lays a few too many cards on the table for a first meeting … but nice face”.
He walked away from the pub thinking:
A blue dress, a mischievous look, a jauntily confident attitude, a playful naughty smile, reddish hair with a few bits of grey, and a cider bottle being swirled around casually. Oh and stories of triceratops sex and you kind of warning me that you were trouble and a blogger, but don’t worry your pretty little head about that now cos I “promise not to blog about you”.
Anyway, after that I went home thinking “well we should do that again some time…..”
I think even slept that night.
Then all I can remember is a text at 6.30am the following Tuesday and then after that it is ALL a complete blur.
He’s referring to me waking him up to ask where we should go on our second date.
Apparently that’s not the way it’s done, but I was a little rusty on the dating rules.
Things got pretty crazy after that. We were texting each other almost constantly. Three days later, he “virtually” held my hand while I sat at the gynocologist waiting get a Mirena inserted to fix my lady plumbing problems.
It was pretty surreal: in less than a week we’d gone from meeting in a pub for an hour to him being my emotional support during a very intimate procedure.
That afternoon he flew to the US for work and we spent the next 10 days in a endorphin-fuelled haze of texting.
Meeting each other for the second time in real life felt WEIRD – we had so much mental intimacy with absolutely no physical connection.
But, when he asked me to take down my RSVP profile two days later, I said “yes”.
And the rest has been quite the ride.
To be honest, it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster. There have been amazing highs and awful lows.
Middle aged dating is a challenging beast.
DD often catches me staring at him. He’ll look back quizzically and say: “What???”
Nothing. I’m just staring because I love looking at him. Or sometimes because I feel like I don’t know him at all. He’s so different to my ex. He’s slow to anger and quick to forgive. He listens more than he talks. He likes watching sport and The Mighty Boosh and The Umbilical Brothers and long guitar solos.
I don’t like watching any of those things.
But we both love sipping coffee as the sun rises over the sea, or drinking wine in the late afternoon sun on his deck or feeling the sea spray on our faces as we take a ferry ride.
Simple, priceless pleasures.
We don’t get to do that stuff very often. I think we deserve the chance to do it more. There has been enough tough stuff in both our lives, a little peace and idle pleasure seems in order.
It will come. It always does. Eventually.
There’s also a lot of patience required in middle aged dating.
I’m not known for my patience, but I am the glass-half-full type.
And, if I had my time over, I’d still take my RSVP profile down. I met a good man four years ago. His love helped me heal.
DD has played a huge part in my journey to discovering who I am after completely losing my way.
I don’t know what the journey has in store for us next, but it’s been a wonderful trip.
Song of the day: The Who “Who are you?”