Parenting Without A License

Yep, That Was A Date

Posted by Kimberly on November 3rd, 2007 — Posted in Just Like Riding A Bicycle, The Man I Didn't Marry, NaBloPoMo

[Ed. Note: I wasn’t being coy making you all wait. I had this post about half done and then left the computer for a few minutes. When I came back, I found Webkinz where my words were supposed to be.]

The last time I went out with The Man I Didn’t Marry,it definitely wasn’t a date. It had some of the hallmarks of a date–I dressed up, he picked up both me and the tab (although I was fully prepared to pay for my own drinks), and, even if it wasn’t acted on, there was the desire for a kiss at the end of the night–but it definitely wasn’t a date. I’d say that there was too much water under the bridge for that to have been a date, except I’m not sure that at that point there even was a bridge. A lot of water, but no bridge. The way things ended–I gave back the ring, we stopped talking, I had a baby (not his), he got married (not to me)–there wasn’t really a lot of time for bridge building back then. Both of us were so busy getting on with it, I’m not sure we really spent much time getting over it.

Not that either of us has spent the last ten years pining and obsessed with what could have been; we’ve both had fairly busy decades, after all. I just know that while I haven’t really spend my time dwelling on that part of my life, when I have thought about seriously and not in the “fun stories to tell at parties” kind of way I’ve had the sense that it was unfinished business. And, up until he popped up on Facebook, I was fine with that. After all, much though we might wish differently, life’s loose ends don’t always get tied up in a nice, tidy bow.

So, last time we went out, it wasn’t about dating. It wasn’t even exactly two old friends catching up. It was about putting the past to bed. It was about closure. The thing about finding closure, though, is that it allows you the opportunity to explore the possibility of new beginnings.

Which brings me to a question….Can you have a first date fifteen years after you first went out? One the one hand, it feels a lot like a first date. That sense of excitement and possibility are definitely there–that fluttery feeling that comes from not knowing how the evening is going to turn out, but hoping that it will live up to the promise that lead you to accept the invitation in the first place. On the other hand, however, there is five years of shared history backing this evening up. Sure, those five years of shared history have been tempered by ten years during which we each grew up in different ways, but they’re still there, tinging the excitement with a sense of familiarity that is always there in the background and almost borders on deja vu at times.

Not that there was anything deja vu about our dinner at a fancy restaurant, unless you count the fact that we were both able to predict what they other would order with 100% accuracy. Last time our first date was a trip to the movies. Eating out at a chi chi restaurant (the kind where crayons and kids menus are replaced by cloth napkins and candle light) couldn’t have made it more clear that this was a whole new experience for both of us, and one that we were both looking forward to embracing. Still, there were some very familiar undertones, like the moment we both flashed back to our first kiss. And then decided that some magic just can’t be recaptured.

Not that there wasn’t kissing. Just not then. New beginnings require new moments and new memories, not the same ones recycled and repackaged for a new generation; to do otherwise would be to deny the power of that magic, and wouldn’t be fair to either the past or the future.

I’m not certain what the future will hold for The Man I Didn’t Marry and me. I do know that with 4 children, 2 cities,1 driver’s license, and an ex-wife between us it’s pretty crowded on that bridge and any future there is will probably be complicated by more than just echoes of the past. However, I also know that, even with all that, I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.

(And not just because dinner was delicious, drinks were fun, and I feel like I missed out on something when we didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to play a round of pool–even if my dress really wasn’t suitable for leaning over a table).

[Oh, and Kirs? He doesn’t think you can possibly guess where he took me this time.]