“I don’t want romance right now.” Guy No. 37 said, exhausted from another long week at work. He must have felt what I felt: it was getting so hard to spend time together, and we had only known each other for three months. He had to cancel the last three dates he planned with me because of his demanding work schedule. (All in advance and for good reasons.) He had so much going on. As much as we were fond of each other, he didn’t want to keep canceling.
I was stood up on a first date once. Immediately, I wanted nothing more to do with that man. This felt different. I smiled even more because of this person.
Dating again at an older age, I found myself sometimes at odds with a man’s work. Asking a man to choose between his work and a woman was just a recipe for disaster.
His focus was his work and to regain control of his life from an unexpected detour. I could relate. Schizophrenia was my life detour for six years. It was vital for me to conquer it before I felt myself 100% of the time again. (No more private struggle late at night.) Having done that and aging, let me grow into my skin.
I was lousy at arguing. Perhaps, someone would cry, debate, or try to persuade him that it would all work out. A wise friend told me, people older than twenty-one do not change. We were grown-ups. He knew what he wanted, and I respected that.
Too bad the timing was wrong with No. 37. I understood we were at two different stages of our lives, even though I felt kindness and sweetness. I wanted work-life balance while he was giving work all he got. I wish him all the success he desires.
Over text, I nodded. We agreed to stay in touch. He mentioned his heart. We had the friendliest break.