I understand that this isn’t a question regarding dating logistics. I mean, until I became a widow, I’d never done an online dating profile, but these things aren’t rocket science (and if you can’t figure it out, you can always look up a video on YouTube, as I did!) This isn’t a question about how to find someone willing to share a drink with you. It has to do with something far more complicated.
What exactly does it imply to begin dating? What am I looking for on a date? I’m not sure how I’m going to handle dating.
Okay, let me start by saying that I am not a relationship expert. I’m also a beginner to dating, and I’m sure I’ll be embarrassed by the advise I gave when I look back on this post in a year or two. But, hey, whatever. I’ve never claimed to be an expert on any aspect of widowhood or grieving. All I have to give is my personal experience.
And it’s been a fascinating journey. My first date happened by chance, thanks to a man I met at a poolside bar on the first trip I made away from my children after Shawn died. He reawakened something in me, and I craved more.
But I had no idea how to go about it. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to fill out an online dating profile or how to tell my friends to set me up. It’s because I was terrified of the dating world as a whole.
To begin with, I was apprehensive about talking to strangers on the internet. They are strangers, to be sure, and as a child of the 1980s, I was taught not to talk to strangers. But it went beyond that. What exactly are you talking about? How can you tell if someone is telling you the truth? When do you try to meet in person and when do you try to meet in person? I didn’t have any answers, and I despised opening up my dating apps for months. (To be honest, I still despise it at times.)
What else is there to say? I was terrified of those first few moments on a date. I despised the uneasiness I felt whenever I met someone new. I’m a woman who knows what she’s doing! Why did I feel so adolescent-like? I couldn’t get this feeling to go away no matter how hard I tried.
On top of that, I was terrified of rejection. It came in the shape of men who never responded to my messages and others who abruptly ended our conversation for no apparent reason. (To be honest, I did it as well.) I suppose it’s simply a part of dealing with folks you’ll never meet?) But I was also afraid of what might happen if I fell in love with someone.
Of course, this led to my greatest concern, which I still have: I was afraid of never finding another person to love like Shawn.
You’re probably thinking, “Wow, Marjorie,” if you’ve made it this far. Thank you for the motivational speech! Now I’m actually looking forward to dating!
Okay, I understand. It’s terrible that you’ve found yourself in a situation where you need to date again in your forties. It’s unjust that your partner is no longer alive. It’s the absolute worst.
But, presuming you really want to date again, there is only one way I’ve found to confront something terrible: one small step at a time.