Every relationship ends until one doesn’t.
At least that’s what Dan Savage says. I am a firm believer in this. As we are milling about through life, those of us who are lucky enough to pair off hope to do so for the long haul — to find that one relationship that lasts. If it weren’t for my personal experience with this search, I wouldn’t have started this website.
And, during this search, my attitude has been (and continues to be) that every relationship ends until one doesn’t.
That’s why, when a young woman named Michelle (who had found me on OkCupid) asked me what my relationship goals were, I told her that every relationship ends, until one doesn’t, and I’m hoping to find the one that doesn’t.
She was a graduate admissions counselor at a college in the area, where her duties included admitting and advising potential grad students, many of whom were, by her account, barely-housebroken morons.
“They don’t realize that I’m not going to do all the legwork for them,” she complained more than once. “They just don’t understand that I am not their mother.”
At the time, I found the griping about the students to be humorous. I remember when I was a student, after all, how clueless I was. And now that I’m an adult, I can appreciate the general disdain adults seem to have for clueless college kids. I get it. I got her. She got me. All was golden.
After much online flirtation, we decided to go out. Dinner and a movie. Nothing special — at least not on the surface.
The movie sucked, and the food wasn’t great, but the conversation was incredible. And her plate was clean before mine.
Let me digress for a moment here. I am a fast eater. I spent every summer from the time I was 15 until I graduated from college working at an amusement park, where lunch breaks were short and intense. In high school, I never had more than ten minutes to eat lunch. As a result of all those years of conditioning, I am a fast eater. Sometimes a little bit messy, too.
Michelle ate faster than me. And she ate everything on her plate. All while laughing and smiling. She was truly a woman after my heart.
“I hope I’m not jumping the gun here,” I told her over our crappy-but-edible meals, “but I’m really feeling a connection here.”
Her laugh tore through the restaurant like a bull. Not an angry bull, but rather, a strong, determined bull. The people all around us glared in our direction. I had made this lovely woman laugh. I was the alpha male.
When the tab came, she insisted on splitting it, not because she wasn’t having a great time, but because she was “fiercely independent.” This was yet another check in the positive column I was updating in my head.
We split the check and headed outside to our cars, hand in hand.
Things were going so well that I wasn’t even fazed when she told me that she was, at age 28, raising her niece and nephew, ages four and three.
Normally, that’s the sort of thing that scares me away, especially since she didn’t want to discuss the circumstances surrounding her custody of the children.
“I’ll tell you,” she said, “someday.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “We don’t have to get into that. You can tell me whenever you’re ready.”
As we stood between our cars, she looked into my eyes, smiled, and kissed me.
We ended our evening with plans for another date, very soon, and a promise to call one another the next day.
TO BE CONTINUED…