At the onset, it looked like it might be, dare I say, something good? He was nice looking, he lived within a zip code of me. He was very tall which I like because I’m five foot ten. We shared the same affliction, a very painful neurological condition – I know this because he lead with it in his online dating profile. I thought this a bit odd but I also thought how nice it would be to meet someone who understood what peripheral neuropathy was. In five years of singleness it had never occurred to me that it was something that needed revealing, at least initially. I never felt as if it was something to be ashamed of, something that might make me less “datable”. PN was a painful distraction I thought only I had to worry about, not anyone else. After some back and forth emailing he asked me to dinner. Dinner! Not coffee! At that point he really started loving me! He “liked” every photo I had posted and sent me messages throughout the day. The attention was very nice and I looked forward to meeting at a local chain steakhouse, not my first choice, but I’ve learned to set the bar low.
Saturday night came and I got ready with youthful anticipation. I thought I looked pretty good, at least as good as I could. There he was! He swooped me up with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was very sweet and he smelled nice too. For a moment I had a fleeting rush of something that might have been emotion. It felt good. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a long stemmed yellow rose. Awww…..this was getting good.
Then it all went downhill. We were seated, he stuck his feet out and rotated them and bent them up and down. I asked him, “Are you having a lot of pain?”. He described the pain he lived with every day. We talked of prescriptions. Therapy. Treatment programs and nutritional programs and supplements – all of which he claimed were “too addictive”. He didn’t seem to like any of my advice or personal experience. This was not going the way I had hoped. Throughout our meal he didn’t ask a single question about me. Kids, being the obvious road to go down. I found myself trying to steer the conversation away from his feet and towards family and perhaps work, and it kept winding its way back to feet and socks, shoes, footwear. Support groups exist for people with foot pain, I know this now. I got tired of trying. Tired of trying to be charming about feet. I decided to wrap it up and lets bring this night to a close.
They say that true compassion means not only feeling anothers pain but also being moved to help relieve it. I had tried. Walking to my car I knew we wouldn’t go out again and it made me sad. Sad that every date is a first date. Feeling like I’m way too old for “first dates”, they feel a little foolish. Nobody wants to be alone. I know earlier I said I have learned to set the bar low but I’m reminded while I would love to try the trendy boutique restaurant and tell friends I went there, it’s reassuring to know you can count on The Outback. They serve a pretty good steak. If the evening starts falling apart, at least there’s dinner.
