I attended a social engagement this weekend that put me in
contact with women I hadn’t seen since college. Many of the guests have known
me more than a decade but aren’t a part of the inner circle with whom I share
my innermost secrets.
A handful of the women knew about my divorce and about my
new romance, but there were still a couple who were uninitiated. I wasn’t
prepared for the awkwardness of that.
All in all, it could have been worse but it made for an
interesting afternoon just the same.
I had made a point to introduce Drama Geek to my friends
shortly after their arrival. I figured that was the best way to head off any
questions or comments that would lead to discomfort. However, there was one
woman who arrived amid a flurry of activity. Her toddler’s britches were soaked
and as soon as she entered the house, she was off to the restroom to clean up.
By the time she returned, Drama Geek was outside and I was
caught up in the shock of seeing her in a maternal role. Though not far from
the hard-rocking party girl I remembered with her shorts emblazoned with skulls
and collection of macabre tattoos, she had a noticeably softer demeanor when it
came to her Mohawked son.
I was so caught up in interrogating her on what had
transpired over the last dozen years that I didn’t have my wits about me when
the questions turned to me. At first my answer to the, “what have you been up
to?” question was boring at best: “You know me, just work and play, though more
of the former than the latter.”
I told her I had moved and all about my new job. And then
she jarred me back to reality when she asked about my move.
“Did you take the job to be closer to (Mr. Ex’s) family?”
“Ha!” My frozen cocktail almost spurted out my nostrils. “Umm…no.”
That’s when it hit me. She didn’t know I was divorced and
that I had another love interest. As I saw Drama Geek turn the corner to come
near me, I realized I had to act fact to save her a dose of embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry, you’re completely out of the loop, aren’t
you?” I said in my most understanding manner. “I divorced (Mr. Ex); I’m here
with someone new, and I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
Her momentary shock was quickly replaced by curiosity. It
didn’t take five minutes before she commented that Drama Geek seemed to be a
more logical match than Mr. Ex ever was.
“Yes,” I said. “Not all of us are smart enough to leave our
dating mistakes behind us in college.”
She smiled, noticeably remembering a few of hers.
And with that, I excused myself to Drama Geek’s side, where
he wrapped an arm around my waist without missing a beat in conversation with
another party-goer. It felt natural; it was comfortable; it felt like home.
I think this is how dating is supposed to feel.