Anniversary Squared

Eight years ago today, 9/25/16, I met the man who became my last first date. Normally, this would mean that we turned out to be soulmates, are still together, in love forever, blah blah blah. Nope. I had high hopes for all that, but alas…

We met on the notorious dating site, Plenty of Fish, where I had recently created a new profile after a break from dating due to bad experiences. Why I thought this time would be any different, idk. Stop reaching into the bag of broken glass hoping to find candy. Initially, I nixed this particular guy (let’s call him M²), because he lived too far away, in my opinion. While I was willing to meet men in Los Angeles (though not necessarily vice versa), if they seemed like a real potential, 50 miles seemed a reasonable limit. M² lived over 60 miles away, which I thought was too far. He convinced me otherwise, however, and by the time the day of the date rolled around we had been chatting online for a couple weeks. I really liked him, more than anyone in years, if ever. We also had a super long phone conversation. Silly, I know, to feel strongly about someone you haven’t met in person yet, but my heart belongs to words.

We met on a Sunday for lunch, on one of the hottest days of the year, at a Laguna Beach restaurant named Skyloft. I previously had a bad time at Skyloft with a creepy date and couldn’t find my car afterward for two hours, but I pushed all that out of my mind since this new guy was awesome. Square Sunday was without question the best date of my life. Conversation flowed perfectly, there was a lot of humor, and I felt intense physical chemistry. At the end of the date, which lasted six hours because we were having such a great time, M² kissed me on the beach as the waves rolled in behind us. It was magical!

I wish the relationship had ended right then, so I could have retired from dating on a high note, on a beautiful sunny beach kiss date composed of square numbers, because why not go out on a good day rather than after a plethora of pain? (This philosophy doesn’t only have to apply to euthanasia.) But that didn’t happen, sadly. I don’t want to discuss the rest of it right now; I only want to focus on the date itself before I forget all the details. I probably have forgotten some by now, of course.

Eight years. An anti-versary, if you will. Despite what happened with M² after September, the 25th remains special to me.

I’ve met up with a few other men since, but I wouldn’t call them dates. They were simply meet and greets that I wasn’t the least bit enthusiastic about. Finally, it all faded away, and I am much better off in all ways without that drama in my life. I guess my last M&G, this past March, could be termed a date, but to me it was just a catch up dinner with a fellow writer whom I had dated briefly in 2012 and knew I had no future with.