The sixth guy I ever dated was still in the pressure cooker of my senior year of college (learn more in Make It Work Ladies!) and came into my life in such a way that I knew from the get-go that he was the one.
In the summer (during boy #4) I had an internship in my hometown with a friend of my father's. One day, after breaking up with boy #5, my internship boss gives me a call. His firm had training in my hometown where they brought in all the new accountants from New York and other cities that don't matter and trained them somewhere where there is a potential for them to see the sun. During this training he met a guy in the elevator. The guy was under 30 and wearing a kippah and my ex-boss immediately said "I know a girl who is under 30 and tends to date guys who wear kippahs. This must be her future husband." He called me to let me know that he had discovered this fact.
On paper, this guy was all wrong. He was a full two inches shorter than I (and I'm Jewish girl average-to-tall. Basically I could model for Junee) and had gone to extremely right wing yeshivahs in Brooklyn where he was from. I argued with my ex-boss that it could not possibly be a good idea and he told me that based on the kippah and the fact that they were in an elevator at the same time my arguments were invalid.
We arranged a date and he picked me up on foot from my dorm around 7:30.
Getting picked up at 7:30 from my dorm was an entire experience because the last classes of the day let out at 7:10 and many girls were just returning home at 7:30. As me and #6 (who I will call Tiny because he was Tiny) walked down my street to the nearest restaurant we passed 5 girls I didn't know and 2 of my close friends, one of whom texted me to let me know my date was shorter than I. The other one I felt less embarrassed in front of because I had seen her with a guy who looked like Prince William (#balding) when I walked home from my 7:10 class the night before.
We reached the restaurant and began to eat and I discovered something very important:
Food is the way to my neshama and body.
This was the first time I had been taken to dinner on a first date and I was in LOVE. How can anyone say no to a man who pays for them to have pasta with some sort of cheese/sauce combo and then a slice of cake?
But my tiny, undeveloped under 25 brain didn't realize that food is a direct way to my soul. I thought that in all the craziness of how I met this guy and how everything was coming together in such a strange way that he could be the one. I also didn't realize that the heavy feelings of attraction I felt towards him were all from my body eating actual food for the first time in months (College!) and not from any vibes I was getting from him.
But I was hooked.
It was one date and I was ready to be proposed to. I had a wedding date picked out and, in a fit of insanity, even told some of my friends about this guy and the crazy way we met and how Hashem has been putting everything into place for me.
Liking the guy I dated after the first date was surreal for me. I had always felt strong feelings of antipathy or repulsion from everyone I had dated. Having a positive experience was new and made me conflate it in my head to something way bigger than it actually was.
We went on date 2 to a popular steak house that has a great deal where you can get a small steak, salad, and fries for $30. He got that, I got the 12 ounce ribeye.
I just cannot help myself when it comes to food.
Again, I had a spectacular time. I had a giant steak in my belly and I was planning on living on it for the next 3 months because #college. We walked around Rockefeller Center where the tree was lit up and in the romance of Christmas and the afterglow of food, I knew I was on my second date with my husband.
My ex-boss called me at 7:30 am the next day to let me know that Tiny didn't really see us going anywhere. In a show of support my ex-boss called him a loser and a putz.
I was devastated.
I had let about 70% of the people in my life know that I finally had someone and that he was buying me food. I turned to my comfort place, Taylor Swift's newest album, but it was 1989 and that album is the one that is sorely lacking in the feels department. I felt as if I had no one to cry to. I decided that I had been tortured enough (HAHHAHAHAHAHAHA LOL GUESS WHAT'S COMING) and needed a break from dating until after winter break.
In the time since then I have gotten much better at handling rejection.
Other than the time I cried at work, I have now adjusted to get a sort of high from being rejected. I might have been passed over, but my freedom remains intact. I am leaning hard into my Sagittarius instincts which feels right.
I also was at the beginning of learning something that would take me years to get a grip on and I still have not mastered. After a first or second date that isn't horrible there is a feeling of elation. You know almost nothing about the person, none of their scars or problems or how their farts smell and you feel like, if there is that initial attraction, that you have found a perfect flawless man to be yours.
Men have flaws. Women have flaws. Even I have flaws. Taylor Swift is the only one who does not have a flaw but we don't judge ourselves against her.
I've learned to try my best to ignore that first/second date elation and recognize that most of it is a serotonin high from cheese. I've learned to not tell everyone I know just because I've had one good date. I've learned that while rejection stings, it is easier to focus on the positive side of maintaining my proud Sag freedom instead.
One day there will be someone who I am elated to be with after a few dates and then discover their flaws and use that to build something deeper than elation.
Till then, BH Taylor has written plenty more breakup songs.