Dating, Lord Voldemort Style

So I started dating again. This isn’t a formal, public announcement. It’s just one of those things that I felt like I should start doing a while back. But, darn, now I feel the need to explain myself. As if I didn’t already feel like my life is on display for so many people to question and judge, seeking the companionship of single men is one more way for me to feel insecure about how my actions align with others’ expectations.

I haven’t gone out that much, but the little bit I have has opened my eyes wide to how very complicated it is.

God has given me all the right tools and talents to be successful at this endeavor. Like Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter: The Order of the Phoenix, now I’m fighting with a weapon (or two) I didn’t have the last time around.

With 40 years under my belt, I have much more confidence than I did the last time I was available for dating. I wholeheartedly believe that I am a good and fun person to spend a few hours with! I’ve been told that confidence is attractive in a woman…but only to an extent.

I’m also much more full of good adventure ideas and the cash flow to support them. I have a giant list of places to go, things to see, venues to explore… just awaiting someone to share them with me. But going back to the confidence issue, I’m not afraid to do things by myself and I’m not waiting around for someone cute to get out and see the world. I’ve also been told that independence is attractive in a woman…but only to an extent.

Another weapon in my arsenal is the fact that I have become profoundly self-aware over the years, which means I recognize when I’m allowing my stupid insecure tendencies to get in the way of having genuine, interesting interactions with others. But with that self-awareness comes a tendency to overanalyze behaviors, identify performance gaps, and strategize solutions. Ad nauseam. Whether in my professional, financial, educational, or volunteer service life, I’m used to setting goals & objectives, creating project plans, delegating responsibilities, following up on milestones, holding others accountable, and getting results. As I have tried to apply the same principles to pursuing attractive single men, I’ve run into a few…complications…with my tried-and-true processes.

Just like Lord Voldemort, I have failed to account for the human element in these interactions—human emotions, thoughts, insecurities, and sometimes unpredictable behavior. Lord Voldemort failed to account for the impact of Harry’s goodwill and care in behalf of his friends; that foiled he-who-must-not-be-named at every turn. Likewise, I seem to be forgetting that men are, well, human. Not to mention forgetting realities caused by daily life (like, people are truly busy at this stage of life).

Secret weapons and secret frustrations notwithstanding, the dating experience thus far has been everything it purported to be: fun.

Nine Months

Tonight marks nine months since my late husband, Charles, passed away. Nine months is a long time. It’s ¾ of a calendar year. It’s a whole school year. It’s long enough to have a baby (but my mom-friends need not worry: I won’t break it down into weeks; I don’t speak in weeks). It’s how long the US Copyright Office takes to process an application to register your copyrighted work.

Nine months is also long enough to lose 50 pounds. It’s enough time to meet and become friends with some really incredible people. It’s just sufficient time to rediscover things I had forgotten I loved to do…like hike, like learn new songs on the piano for pleasure, like make my bed every day (unless I don’t feel like it).

Interestingly, it’s enough time to learn some new tricks, such as soaking up as much sunshine as possible every day, or watching (and enjoying) hockey. Or not planning out my life more than a day or a few hours in advance. Or actively seeking slightly dangerous adventure.

Most importantly, nine months is enough time to come to know, unequivocally, that I am loved by some pretty amazing people.

If you had asked me on October 1^st how I’d feel nine months from then, I don’t think “happy, excited, hopeful, adventuresome, content, grateful, loved” would have been believable adjectives. I owe nine months of gratitude to a lot of places: to my Heavenly Father for giving me growth opportunities and listening to the sincere desires of my heart; to my family for letting me start over and try being a better daughter, sister, and aunt; to my old friends (not in age—I think I’m actually the oldest in most of my social groups :-/) for carrying me through some lonely and desperate times; to my new friends for taking a chance on me; and to myself for owning this experience and letting myself flourish.