Healing through Honesty

 A Dinner Date on Mt. Washington

12/2/2024

How can the days where we have reservations at 7:30 go so slow? He has confirmed with me, and I have confirmed with the sitter, and so far, all is looking good to get together tonight.

He’ll be here to pick me up at 7:15, and at the moment, it doesn’t feel like it will ever be that time.

Eventually, the clock hits 6, and it’s time to feed the child, shower, and start getting ready while I wait for the message telling me he’s here.

My phone buzzes, and I slip out the door, down the front steps, and into his car that hasn’t had the chance to warm up just yet. Considering he only has to travel six houses down to pick me up!

I haven’t been out for fresh seafood in quite a while, and as we walk in and sit down, I am more than certain I can’t yet afford the tap water that will fill my glass. Oh, and because we’re fancy here, it’s not called tap water—it’s called still water. That’s how you know the level of where you’re dining.

The views are stunning.

We are up on Mt. Washington, overlooking the city of Pittsburgh, and the entire restaurant is floor-to-ceiling windows with a 360° view. It is remarkable, and at the same time, all I can think about is what it would be like to be pressed right up against those windows overlooking the city while he takes me from behind. I’m pretty sure that’s one fantasy that will never play out right here.

The conversation with him is just easy. There’s no lull or searching for the words to say. I’m not worried about being judged. He apologizes one more time about the weekend. I set my hand on his thigh while I look at him, take a deep breath, and give him a squeeze as I say, “It’s time to move on. It’s really okay.” He nods and says, “But I don’t like disappointing you.”

HOLD UP. FULL STOP.

I set my wine glass down and look at him. I need him to not only hear me but fully understand what I’m about to say.

“Disappointment is part of life. It’s not your job to manage my emotions. It’s not your job to not disappoint me. Tell me you know and understand that.” He nods, and I continue, “The problem was never my disappointment. The problem was your method of not telling me. And if I had to guess, you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to give bad news.”

“Tab, this exact situation is something I’ve struggled with my whole life. I know I’ve done this exact thing to so many people who didn’t deserve it, and if you chose to cancel on me tonight, it would have been fair.”

“I’m safe. We aren’t going to blow up into a fight because something comes up. Healed people don’t do that. And I am sorry about the text I sent you later that night. I just wanted to make sure you knew I had options.”

“Babe, I’m not dumb. I KNOW you have options.” He dips a piece of bread into the plate of oil and balsamic. Then he looks at me and says, “When I got that message, I didn’t know how to feel. I read it like you felt caged. Tell me more about what you meant.”

Saturday night, somewhere around 7:00, I got an invite out from another guy who had kinda disappeared for quite a while. My ego was freshly bruised, and my anger was raging, and I made the poor decision to text Dreamy and say, “I just got an invite out tonight, and I don’t know what to do because I’m in a mood that’s likely going to leave me making decisions I’m not proud of in the morning.”

I really didn’t feel like going, but I wanted to. I wanted to only to spite him. Like, since you didn’t choose me, that’s your loss—this guy did choose me.

But I also knew I didn’t really want to go and that any decisions I made that night I wouldn’t be making for me but instead would be making in spite of him.

Well, that sure doesn’t feel very peaceful and healed, and it doesn’t embody the person that I strive to be.

So I stayed home and went on to explain all of that to him.

The rest of the conversation through dinner is lighthearted as the crab cakes melt in my mouth and we eat until we are stuffed.

We walk out of dinner and hop on over around the corner for another drink at a local spot. Two drinks later, he pulls me in close and whispers in my ear how perfect I am and how much he wants me.

I’m still not used to the freely flowing affirmations he offers me, but I certainly don’t mind them. This guy is different. I haven’t thought about AC once since I started talking to him. He checks all the boxes, and my guard is dropping fast.