The ‘Like at First Sight’ date meeting: tick.
The two hour Japanese lunch across the road that neither of us wanted to end: tick.
The wandering around groovy film art exhibition, wondering if/when/who/how the first kiss: tick.
The vintage clothes shopping (but each of us too shy to actually try stuff on): tick.
The second-hand grimy bookshop browsing down a hardly-used art deco mall, wondering if/when/who/how the first kiss: tick.
Now one of my readers asked me why I didn’t write ‘Love at First Sight’ in the last post Episode 6 HERE? Because it’s a cliché? Because I’m a sensible grown up 50 year old woman? Because it seems too soon? Because it can’t possibly be true?
I’d say I’m a fairly loving, affectionate person; my son ‘almost17’ and I use the farewell phrase “Love you” most days for example, and at night before bed [unless we’re hating each other after a fight of course.] So are there levels of love we can feel or bestow? I never forgot learning at school aged 16 that whoever “admitted it first” was the weaker one, or the one that would get hurt the most…
Online dating often comes with an expected script and timetable now, just like meeting someone at the pub used to, or in the staffroom at work. We generally keep our cards close to our chest [see my fav previous post HERE about the jackets we wear]. How ironic that Tinder and other dating apps make it so easy and convenient for us all to find multiple instant sexual partners, yet the true intimacy of emotional revelation and safety is a much scarcer commodity. So do you usually say ‘I love you’ first, and is that wise?
Three weeks ago, I spent almost 2 hours copying, pasting, ordering and sorting all the online messages ‘H’ and I had sent to each other, until we’d moved to regular email and texts (always a significant step for me, Boundaries Queen/Control Freak that I am haha).
Reading them all again was like watching our petals opening, one by one.
I remembered how I’d noticed myself changing as the exchange progressed: the playful fun, the cheekiness, the devilish ‘what the hell’ attitude, the curiosity, then the growing fascination and intrigue. Who is this person deep down? How do they really live their life? What do they fret about at 3 in the morning? Of what do they dream?
And how damn good does it feel that they seem to be just as interested in me too!
While I copied and pasted, I re-visited the disappointment I’d felt a couple of times when it seemed that we were going to stop messaging; I remembered how my heart sank when we had our first big disagreement, for which I’d had to apologize, and clarify. I recalled my astonishment when I realized I was truly getting invested in this connection: that I really was going to go to Melbourne, and that anything really could happen.
I remembered when I got my first drawing from ‘H’, and how a tiny door in my heart opened as though that was its key.
A key I didn’t know I needed, for a door I didn’t know I had.
Was that the beginning of my Love?
Perhaps. But I knew I was already feeling it, before we even met in real life. I felt it flutter inside me as I watched ‘H’ arrive from across the street, while I stood listening to my favourite funky song. I felt it skipping happily as we ate lunch, both talking and listening so intently. I felt it lurch and bristle as we walked side by side to the film exhibition, to the clothes shop, to the bookstore.
‘Is there a book in here you wish you could buy ‘H’? Let me buy it for you, as a birthday gift. Don’t say no ‘H’, come on, you just turned 50 three days ago, let me buy you something, please…’
*Insert my sweet sassy smile.
‘Pleeeease let me buy you a book…’
*Insert the playful electricity.
Surrounded by loaded dusty shelves, mismatched armchairs, and hand lettered signs ordering people to read more books and take less selfies…
After 11 weeks…
Two open beings, leaning closer, like innocent sunflowers greeting the dawn. Absolutely timeless; our first small sweet kiss.
Then again my mind asked: ‘Why is everything else in 2D now, while ‘H’ is in 3?’