Taking the Plunge into the New World of Dating

I usually welcome diving into new things. Flying through the trees in Panama, riding a camel in Morocco, driving on hairpin turns in the mountains of Italy — just another day on the road.

But dating at my age? The thought terrified me in the months following my divorce last year. I managed one lunch date — just barely. I called a friend prior to meeting this man who called me to meet him for lunch after a “recommendation” from his neighbors.

“I’m going to throw up. I can’t go,” I wailed.

“For goodness sake, it’s just lunch,” this good friend said. “He hasn’t asked you to marry him.”

So I went, and I survived and when he called for a second date, I never returned the call. The second opportunity came a month or so later when I met another man through mutual friends. But when he called and left a message suggesting lunch, I decided to not call him back either. Never heard from either of them again.

My venture into the world of dating seemed more frightening than anything I had done before. How would I handle that first kiss? When I dated before I had no wrinkles, less weight and more confidence in my physical being. Why now when I am confident in most areas of my life would I allow the physical to take over?

I discovered very early in my new life that single, sane and straight men with the means to support themselves are not falling off the trees at my feet. But in the first year of being single I discovered that married men who are interested in my new status swarm like termites in the warm weather. I learned very quickly — even looking at a bare left ring finger — to inquire about the wife before talk of getting together for a cup of coffee began.

“Go online,” another friend said. “If I was single today, that’s the first thing I’d do. Give it a try.”

I refused. It takes away the romance, the fate factor, the spontaneity that at any moment Mr. Right might walk up to my door and carry me off into the night. In what cheap romance novel would that occur, my friend wondered. I sniffed and told her I would never stoop to online dating.

While at a seafood festival in St. Augustine in March I told a married female friend that I felt ready to move into the dating arena, but I did not know where to begin.

“I have a mission,” she said mysteriously and then led me into the food tent and to a table where a young man sat by himself eating lunch. She positioned herself so I was forced to sit across from him. She introduced us and then asked what each of us was doing that night. I wanted to crawl out of the tent only after throwing the plate of boiled shrimp on my friend’s head. But we exchanged cards and two hours later he called and asked me out that night.

Amazingly I said yes without much thought, not even flinching at his young age — 30 — and not hesitating to tell him mine — 52.

“You told him your age?” yet another friend asked. “Why in the world would you do that?”

“Because at this stage of my life, I am not going to start playing games,” I told her.

He turned out to be a journalist from South Carolina, and we enjoyed talking shop despite the age difference. We still talk on the phone occasionally and exchange e-mails. Nothing serious here, but I made a friend, which would never have happened if I allowed my fear of dating to dictate.

With this experience came the understanding that a date with a man need be no different than a date with a girlfriend. Making friends and enjoying the company of another for a few hours opens us up to possibilities.

And so last week I took the plunge. I signed up for the online dating venture. So far I have received quite a few e-mails, but most are easy to toss out. The 25-year old anxious to meet me, the habitual smoker, the one from Indiana — those I ignore. Today I had my first phone conversation with one of them, and while nothing sparked my interest in the short talk, I agreed to meet him for coffee this week.

Who knows what might happen? I might make another friend, and maybe I will even be able to venture out on that elusive second date.

But more importantly, I no longer feel like throwing up.

Patricia Camburn Behnke may be contacted at patricia@towerpublications.com.

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