DTR Date




Date with the devil?
Problems can be masked!

 

I had lunch with my friend L and she introduced me to DTR. Don’t get all skittish about acronyms now. This is no corporate acronym crap. DTR stands for – Define The Relationship. Apparently, when you’ve been sleeping in the same bed or doing dishes together or carpooling to work or sharing a pet or exercising together, or whatever, there comes a time you’re supposed to “define” things. Then we all know where we stand. Or don’t.

I was intrigued. Don’t men hate when women pin them down? Aren’t relationships fun when they’re undefined, and as soon as there are expectations, accountability, responsibility, house payments, etc. the fun comes to a grinding, screeching halt? Isn’t that how dating men think?

Well, maybe not. I was DTR’d. I’d been merrily dating along, footloose and fancyfree, when this guy wanted to know details. Were we dating exclusively? Did I love anyone else? Could he have his wife, and eat me too?

All somewhat difficult philosophical questions.

Yes, I was willing to give this guy my best try. After all, he gave me knives after dumping me for my birthday. And I thought that was pretty swell, along with his…personality. Getting DTR’d was exciting! We get to talk about real relationship things! We have to be transparent with our whereabouts! It’s like, caring about someone!

Wish us luck.

Angel Date

I wear this ankle bracelet that tinkles, like a bell, or a distant windchime, or an Angel’s singing. When I wear it, magic follows me. And I kinda float. (I get this same floaty feeling when I’ve had just the right amount of coffee.)

If I’d had too much coffee, the tinkling starts to sound like a dog’s collar, and I panic and think a dog is chasing me. I glance around furtively seeking an escape.

But on this Date, the tinkling was just right.

One thing about being re-singled and alone is that I am no longer hiding from strangers. In fact, every encounter holds opportunity. Intimacy comes in many forms, and since I certainly didn’t get much in marriage, I’ve discovered it out in the world, in the kindness of strangers.

Like the man I held the door for at the bookstore (after he held the door for me). I called it “payback.”

His comment to me was “You’re just like an Angel.” Tinkle, tinkle went the ankle bracelet.

A comment like that can make me feel really good. Thank you to the nice strangers, who on my crappy beaten-down by divorce and not dating days, help remind me…I’m an Angel.

Now, wanna date?