I'm Not Ready

I was married for 25 years. My divorce became final just over one year ago. I am not dating.

I joined a social club that puts on in-person events—hikes, coffees, happy hours, and themed dinners.

It is not a dating app. It does, however, have an app.

On the club’s app, there are settings you can adjust. You can choose to share your email or phone number with other members you’ve met. I had that shit locked down. A friend asked me why I did that. My answer?

Why would I want to deal with people contacting me? I don’t want to be bothered!

You can also add a photo. I have found it helpful when other people have one. It helps me remember, “oh yeah, I met that person at the art walk.” My friend asked me whether I’d found a good one to add to my profile. Do you think I’ve posted a photo of myself? Nope.

And then my friend asked me about some of the outings I’ve attended. I am guided by two criteria: is this interesting to me and is it a school night. So one of the events I attended was a pottery wheel class on a Sunday.

I thought to myself, “Anyone who references Demi Moore in Ghost is a definite no.”

I showed up, looking forward to learning something I’ve always wanted to try. I was the first to arrive and I talked to the instructor, who was really helpful and put me at ease. A man walked in and introduced himself to me. I smiled and introduced myself. I knew immediately he wasn’t for me, but he was nice all the same. He chose the seat next to me.

It was fun and challenging to throw the clay, try to get it centered, keep my hands wet and mold it into a bowl, a cup, and then a planter. The most challenging part was opening the center to form the vessel. The friendly instructor offered help with that part, which I gladly accepted.

At some point in the class, my classmate went there. He said, “this is nothing like Demi Moore in Ghost!” and laughed at his own joke.

My big sis was like, “You are not going to meet a man at ceramics! You need to go to football games.”

Please. This is about me doing the choosing. What do I like? What do I want? Besides, I hate football. One of the many things I enjoy about my new-found freedom is the golden silence now that football is no longer running in the background and no one is screaming at the TV.

I also went to an art walk in a historic neighborhood, featuring murals on homes and buildings. There were awkward moments, standing around waiting for openings, people saying things that went nowhere.

Our group walked past a set of murals and a man noticed one I’d been looking at. I was thinking, “Is that supposed to be Patrick Swayze?” He said, “Oh, that’s Take On Me!” naming the song by the ‘80s band, A-Ha. I did not volunteer the band’s name.

He kinda looks like Patrick Swayze, right?

At the end of the tour, we stopped at a coffee shop, an opportunity to order a coffee and mingle. I stayed outside talking to a few people while most of the group walked in and got in line to order. I could have stayed, but the line was long and I wanted to get home. I had errands to run.

I walked back to my car. Along the way, I began to feel regret. I got in and closed the door. The silence enveloped me in a sense of relief. The quiet, with no eyes on me, no expectations, no pressure, felt so comforting. I sighed, relaxing into the snug peace.

That relief was telling — I’m not ready.