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The Accident - Date #15

So Date #15 is this really nice guy - generous, kind, thoughtful, the whole shebang. Plus our meal together is delicious and the conversation pleasant. But I just don't feel it.

Knowing that feelings can be deceptive, however, when he asks me out again, to this trendy Mexican place, I agree and even have a great time. Mostly because we're double-dating with the friend who fixed us up and who is always fun to be around.

Until, that is, towards the end of the evening, when she and I are heading to the bathroom and she pops the question: "So what do you think?"

I look at her apologetically. "It's just not there."

"Not there?" she exclaims. "Not there! What's wrong with you? What are you looking for? He has a good heart. He wants to be in a relationship. If you don't watch out, you're going to end up alone."

Alone...Alone...The word reverberates through my bones. Or maybe it's the sound of the toilet flushing. Either way, by the time we get back to the table and my third margarita, a numbing chill is circulating into my heart.

What if what my girlfriend said is true? Am I too picky, too unreasonable, too unrealistic? My first husband, after all, was handsome and smart. My second wasn't bad either. But in the long run, does attraction really matter? Do you need to be intrigued with someone's brain? Or can goodness and kindness supersede everything?

Flummoxed, disheartened, not knowing what else to do, I down my drink and smile, then smile again and again.

Finally, the dinner ends. My date picks up the bill, then drives me home.

"Turn left at the light," I direct. And he does, as right behind us there is a tremendous CRASH and a Jaguar and a Chevy smashing into each other.

The Chevy driver is fine and immediately climbs out of her car. The other one isn't. Even with the Jaws of Life, it takes almost 30 minutes for some two dozen rescue workers to extricate the poor woman from the wreck.

My date doesn't talk much as we stand there watching. I try, but whatever I say misses the mark - or at least his mark. So instead I share my thoughts with a nearby stranger who landed on the accident while walking her dog.

Eventually, the ambulance, red lights flashing, tears off. My date walks me to my door. We chat a moment or two. Then he aims for a kiss. Which I deflect into a goodnight hug and a promise to stay in touch.

I know, I know, he's a very good man. And my girlfriend could be right, I might end up alone. But as I unlock my front door and turn on the lights, there's one thing I'm sure of -- nothing is lonelier than wittingly or not, settling for the wrong guy.

This post first appeared on The Year Of Searching Seriously, please read the originial post: here

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The Accident - Date #15


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