It was too late. She had already committed to dinner.
Everybody said the same thing. What's the big deal? It's just dinner.
She had considered coffee, but sometimes coffee was more difficult. At least with dinner, there was more to do. There were menu discussions and food sharing and stories about other restaurants. With coffee, it was too obvious if nothing was happening. Besides, if the coffee was really hot, she couldn't even keep drinking to avoid obvious silences. With dinner, she could always munch on bread.
But either way, coffee or dinner, the process wasn't really that enjoyable.
Tonight, she had committed to dinner.
She knew the guy was nice. And she knew he was decent looking. She knew the basics. Good job. Stable. Balanced, as far as she could tell.
She also knew that he had some interests in sports. That alone guaranteed some conversation. At the very least, she could ask him about his athletic pursuits. Maybe share some of her own stories.
He had suggested an Italian restaurant. As she walked through the door, she knew the evening was either doomed or meant to be. It was a neighborhood place. Perfect for a regular haunt. It was the kind of place where the wait staff knew you and the owner greeted you at the door.
He was waiting. And he was happy to see her.
The waitress showed them to their table and left them with menus. Luckily, he was easy. Easy to talk to and easy to laugh with. He wanted to be in love. She could tell.
He wanted to know all about her. And he wanted her to know all about him. And he was sweet as can be.
She noticed all of this as if she were having an out of body experience. As if she were watching the date. As if she wasn't there.
She wanted to tell him how nice he was. And how much he deserved to meet someone who wanted to be in love. How he was a person who shouldn't be alone.
She wanted to tell him she knew somebody perfect for him. But she didn't know anybody. Not off the top of her head.
She wanted to tell him how sweet he was for trying so hard to be charming and pleasing and personable. Not that he wasn't those things naturally, but he really was making an effort to be a good date. It was clear.
She wanted to apologize.
All of her life, she had experienced rejection the way everyone experiences rejection. She had been chosen last for softball in elementary school. She had been turned down for various professional positions over the years. And, of course, there had been men who had not been interested in her. Or men who had lost interest. It was the usual, ordinary rejection.
And all of her life, she had been told the same thing. It's not you. You're great. You can do whatever you want.
"That employer doesn't realize what he's missing out on."
"That guy is crazy to let you go. He'll regret it.
It wasn't until her adult life that she learned the truth.
It was totally about her. But it wasn't personal.
And that truth was liberating.
Of course rejection was about her. It was she, after all, who was being rejected. How could it not be about her?
But it wasn't personal. Not really.
It wasn't that an employer or a guy was trying to hurt her or take revenge on her. They were just opting not to choose her in favor of their real preference. Whatever that preference was.
And that made complete sense to her.
Some employers preferred different skills. Some preferred more experience. Some preferred better credentials.
When it came to guys, it was even easier.
Some guys preferred a different hair color, or height, or weight. Some guys wanted a quieter girl or a more athletic girl or a girlier girl.
Some guys liked her exactly the way she was. And they liked her an awful lot. But just not enough. Not enough to keep going.
And, of course, there were times when someone just didn't like her. It only made sense since sometimes she just didn't like somebody.
And she understood that every person had a right to his own preferences.
She also realized how many valuable years she had wasted being hurt over why a guy had chosen another girl over her.
"What does she have that I don't have?"
And she appreciated how she had wrongly blamed guys who just weren't interested.
Yes. In those respects, she was now confident and strong. She could go out and still be okay if someone didn't want her or didn't choose her. It was okay if someone wasn't attracted to her.
But she also knew that not everyone understands rejection. And that many people do take rejection quite personally.
And she was stuck in a restaurant with one of the nicest men she had ever met. And she felt nothing besides guilt over the fact that they were having a very pleasant time that would lead to nothing more.
She wanted to apologize for wasting his time. Wanted to explain that a good time wasn't what she was looking for. She wanted to tell him that she needed something that she just wasn't feeling with him. That intangible something that made her want to know everything about him. That made her want to become a part of him.
What she really wanted to tell him was that it wasn't his fault. That nothing he had said or done would be the reason that she wasn't interested. That she wished it could have been him who had that intangible something.
But she didn't know how to say that.
And so she ended a very nice evening in a simple and nice way. And she fervently hoped that he knew in his heart what a nice guy he was.