From a Period to a Colon: Love

Picture Dan and me in my backyard at three in the morning. Rain pelts us. Dan is in my window-well, standing ankle-deep in water. He sends a bucket down then lifts the bucket to me. I carry the bucket across the lawn, grass and mud squishing beneath my flip-flops, where I empty it and take it back to Dan. We continue this process for what feels like an eternity. Finally we empty the window-well, so a river stops flowing through the window into my laundry room. Back in the house, Dan bends before me to clean mud off my ankles with a washcloth. Looking down on his wet head, I feel a flutter in the base of my throat. And I cannot believe my luck in finding Dan.

Dan and I met through Match.com. Every day Match sends its subscribers 24 photos. I saw Dan’s photo in this lineup in late December and liked the way he looked and wrote. Writing is important to me; okay, I admit looks are too. Dan stood out, for he expressed himself with sincerity and grace not present in most profiles. And he looked adorable. We arranged to meet on January 3, 2017 at Café Kindred in Falls Church. We sat in the window and gazed at each other across a funky cider press. We’re both coffee-lovers. He ordered espresso; I got a latte.

We talked about what had brought us to this moment of meeting a stranger in a coffee shop. Both of us had lost our spouses after long illnesses. Part of my grieving process had been to go to Paris the summer of 2016, where I wrote the beginning of my new novel. Dan went to Italy and studied the Italian language as well as Renaissance art. As he described his journey, I thought: I could fall in love with this man. An odd thought since love was over for me. It had ended with my husband’s death, period. I was on Match to have fun. And I couldn’t see Dan for an entire week because I was booked with dates, playing the Match game.

The next time Dan and I met at the National Gallery, the museum we love so well, and spent the day sharing work from our favorite artists with each other. I had such a good time, but I was also distracted by all those Match men I had met and those still in the hopper. After a long weekend in Florida with another Mr. Wrong, I got a call from Dan on Tuesday. I asked him to come to dinner on Sunday evening. On Thursday I was to have dinner with a friend and another couple. My friend had to cancel. I almost didn’t invite Dan because it was last minute, but in the end I did ask him and he said, “yes.” He would meet us at Cote d’Or, my favorite restaurant. That evening he was charming and funny and oh so hot. We had a great time.

Still I was distracted by the guys on Match.

The day Dan came to my house for the first time I went hiking earlier in the day with another Match guy. While I was hiking with that guy, I was texting another. You see my confusion. Once the hiker left, I had barely enough time to shower and throw some ready-made beef tips into a pan. Dan showed up with gorgeous flowers from a florist. This got my attention. Again Dan and I talked and cuddled and had a great time. The next day I sent a photo of his flowers to my sister, who told me this guy might be a keeper.

When my sister found out that I served Dan ready-made beef tips, she almost gagged. You see my sis is an excellent hostess and chef. In order to atone for my culinary insult, she suggested I have him over again and do better food-wise. So I did. This time I made my sister’s squash soup, which Dan liked.

Dan agreed to go to a friend’s newly produced play. After I thanked him for being willing to do this, Dan said he wanted to be with me no matter what I did. The series of one-acts turned out to be hilarious. We laughed hard and again had a great time.

In February Dan said he had gone off Match. Other Match guys I had dated said the same thing, and I later discovered that with these others, it was not true. They were still on Match, still looking, but Dan really had done it. He was off. For many, Match is an addiction. It became so for me. I had found the man I had been looking for, but I could not stop playing the game of scanning photos, checking that I liked some guy’s photo, answering emails, and agreeing to meet. All this was so time-consuming and energy sucking, but I couldn’t stop. Yet the more I got to know Dan the less I wanted to play the Match game.

My life and Dan’s began to mesh. We joined the same gym and started water aerobics classes together as well as just plain working out and sitting in the hot tub afterward as a reward. I met his daughter and granddaughter, and he met my son. We signed on to spend a month in Italy together the end of the summer. I had three large gatherings of friends and family at my house in March, and Dan helped me with all of these.

In late March, I asked Dan, “Would you show me how to get off Match?”

“Gladly,” he said.

No longer is there a period after love for me. Now it is a colon, as in Dan and I are: