Starbucks, Ikea and Faith

Dear Sparrow:

So, this is what I'm working on lately...LOVE. More specifically, I'm curious about how love will feel again, after so much time away from it and how I will be in a love relationship. I wonder if it will be as dramatic a feeling as when I was a young girl or if it is a milder, more subdued feeling now that I'm in my 40's? Will age and experience make me a kinder, more caring partner or will I be harried and worried with a failed marriage under my belt? You had to know that relationships and the question of love would come up sooner or later, Sparrow, because not only am I a single woman, and have been for over a year, but also a woman in my prime. You know what they say about women in their prime, right...

All jokes aside, I'm intrigued by the concept of love after separation and, as you know from my emails(poor you), I have been out there, fighting the good fight, trying to understand how the world of dating and meeting new people works after 20 years with the same person. It's not a world I recognize anymore and the rules seem to have changed; drastically. I was left befuddled recently when a new relationship came to a grinding halt before it really started and all it took was one question: "Do you want kids"? Trust me, with 2 beautiful daughters and my 42nd birthday approaching in February, it wasn't me asking the question and I had to stick to my guns and make that a non-negotiable. Kids at 42? Yikes. I was surprised to have to have that conversation, and more surprised to be having it so early on in the game. What happened to getting to know each others middle names first (Martha, by the way)?  Apparently, these are questions you have to ask early on when you're dating in your 40's. Biological clocks are ticking and intentions must be worn like a badge, flashing with lights, so that you don't waste someone's time.

I can't lie and say I wasn't disappointed by this turn of events, because as you know from my emails, I was. I had been wondering if love was going to pass me by, if anyone was going to want to get to know this old bird, when that person walked into my life (and, please, don't take that to mean this was love, it was too young for that). His interest in me fascinated me, made me feel content and special. When you’ve been married as long as I was, you forget that someone can see you as a prospect; can be romantically intrigued by you. With this new person, I was not “Me” with all the preconceived notions and prejudices that “He” held against me. I was just me. With that simple conversation, and some tears of frustration, I was back to the drawing board.

And then, one day, out of the blue, this happened:

I went to Ikea with a friend and, as I always do, I stopped for a Starbucks Chai Latte to sip while I walked around the wonder that is Ottawa's new Ikea mega building. While in the curtain section, a gentleman stopped to ask whether or not the the store had a Starbucks since I was holding a cup and we laughed about what a great idea that would be if it did. I walked away from this encounter smiling, only to be approached again by this gentleman a short while after. He told me he would be interested in taking me out for a coffee and would kick himself if he let me get away without asking.

I know, right!

Well, come on, I’m not stupid, I suspected it was a line but, something about the way he said it won me over, made it seem "not cheesy". I was oddly moved by this person who apparently goes out of his way to meet new people, risking rejection in the process. I thought it took incredible courage to be that way and, so, with an admitted moment of hesitation and a warning that it was not a promise that I would actually go out with him, I gave him my number.

I took a chance.

To say I was touched by that moment, in the curtain section of Ikea, is an understatement,  not only for the words that were said to me but because I was impressed by this man's ability to "put himself out there". I marveled at Mr. Ikea's willingness to take a chance with a complete stranger and part of me hoped, without knowing him, that it was a genuine sentiment and not just a "line" he had given me. In the end, I did end up going out with this man and I had a surprisingly good time. Even though we were complete strangers, we didn’t seem nervous in each others company and we quickly hit it off and laughed the evening away. Leaving nothing to chance, however, I did make sure a friend knew where I would be "just in case" and I made Mr. Ikea promise, before I would meet him, that he wasn’t a serial killer, a rapist, or, more importantly, a fan of Nickelback.

As much fun as we had, not only on this date but on subsequent ones as well, I quickly found that I was closed to this relationship even before it started. My interest in Mr. Ikea, oddly, made me gun shy and hesitant to allow him into my world. I liked him, enjoyed his company, but I was running scared. I never run scared. I am a “take life by the balls” kinda girl and, regardless of potential pain, I normally jump into things with both feet, not caring where I land.

Interesting.

My beautiful eldest daughter and I hashed this over, as I drove her to work recently, and, as she always does, she picked me up, brushed me off, took the edge off of the crazy in me, and set me on my feet again. She told me an important rule that she had set for herself and advised me to apply it to my own situation:

Allow yourself to jump in but give yourself absolute permission to an “out” if at any point it doesn’t work for you.

She was right, this brilliant girl of mine. I realized, with her help, that I was afraid that I would feel something for this person but that I would be unable to extricate myself from it if it didn’t work for me for fear of hurting someone, or worse, of hurting myself. So, based on our conversation, I went home, looked at myself in the mirror and made a promise; I gave myself the right to an “out” should anything not be good for me in this new friendship.

That evening, in a text conversation with Mr. Ikea, I admitted to it.

I put it out there.

I stopped being ME for a moment, I took a deep breath and I wrote, "I’m scared” and sat back to wait for his response. He asked for clarification and I promptly, and probably ineffectively, explained myself. In return I got this:

Ikea Man:  Well, I like spending time with you. You’ve been a nice surprise.

Me: A nice surprise?

 

Ikea Man: I didn’t expect you to be so spectacular

Okay!  With that, I’m jumping in. If you ever hear those words and you don’t jump in you need to have your head examined. He could be pulling my leg, I know, I'm not stupid. He could be saying that same thing to 10 other ladies via text but I have to believe that he isn't because I have to stop being scared and start having faith.

I have to.

I have to trust. I have to have faith. I have to believe, in an attempt to find happiness, that Mr. Ikea is neither a serial killer, nor a rapist, nor someone out to use me and hurt me. I have to not care if this man is a fan of Nickelback and I have to believe that he might actually think I’m spectacular. I have to be prepared for the fact that I might get hurt, that I might hurt him and that I might need an out. I also have to allow for the fact that this could be something good. I don’t know where this crazy thing is going, and it might not go anywhere, but I did promise to see this man again even though he responded to my promise with the word “groovy”.

In the meantime, even though I find dating confusing and mind boggling, I plan on coasting on the knowledge that someone called me "spectacular" and, at some point, I should probably warn him that being in my life means appearing in this blog.

Privacy Shmivacy!!!

I’m still not going to rush this, Sparrow, but I am going to go out with Ikea Man again and see what happens. Let’s see if he is any match for a newly invigorated Red Bird!

Love always,

A "Spectacular" Red Bird

PS, Sparrow, I wish I could tell you this face to face over a cuppa. I miss you.