You might have guessed.
But just in case you haven’t, I will admit it. I am starting to date again.
I know.
I signed up for a site here called “Adopt un Mec” (yes, adopt a guy) where the woman gets to be proactive, but still…all of my insecurities are coming back up. Popping like popcorn and I definitely feel on the fire. Tears have fallen. But there have been moments of fine delight too.
Last Sunday, it was warm enough for my date and I to have a glass of wine in the sun on a café terrace. We would talk and then hold each others gaze. It was within that look where words were not needed that inspired me to lean over and kiss him. He hadn’t seen it coming. It was such a good kiss that an elderly man walking by stopped to say, “Bravo. c’était beau ça.” We laughed and I shooed our observer away.
I have worked so hard to get here. Even if I am at times struggling mightily not to slip back into old patterns of being – and most certainly to risk in trusting again – I feel sparks of pride too. For I am trying, not always doing and I took over a year to just be with me. I didn’t rush and as much as long to be held, I do not want to fall into anyone’s arms either but act knowingly.
It is such a waltz of advance and retreat.
The most confusing element for me is disappearance. A contact will start to be established, launched by the man, and when “the mayonnaise starts to take hold” (as they say here), poof! No further sign of life. It has happened so much that I finally asked some of my guy friends about it and they responded that some people just want that reassurance, to know that a certain woman finds them interesting.
Admittedly, I stumble too and patience has never been my strong point. I can reveal far too much too soon if I am interested in someone but I also can blow my lips in frustration if it feels like making conversation is akin to pulling teeth. I have had far too many messages that say simply, “Comment ça va?” and I don’t really know what to do with those, well-intentioned as they may be. There is a musician who has left me his phone number, I don’t know why I haven’t called him yet.
This is not completely new. I was seeing someone for three months and did not write about it here as he is an exceptionally private person. I can be too. It is a line that we all find, over and over again.
It feels strange and wonderful and vulnerable to be meeting men anew after so many, many years with my ex. And yet, oh how I love them. Men. There is the age issue. I have been contacted by a lot of younger men and conversely I am not 100% confident about sharing this 48 year body yet, especially with men my own age. Sometimes it feels like work to write in French when I don’t want it to and long to just jot off a quick reply in my mother tongue. We shall see were this goes, if it even, finally, goes anywhere.
The question is: Can I do this and remain true to my own sweet self? I don’t know yet…
