I Met Someone Who Likes Lawrence Welk As Much As I Do

Here’s my update on the dating post-divorce-during-late-forties-during-pandemic situation.

I met someone recently who likes Lawrence Welk as much as I do AND I AM ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED. I’m terrified because we have a ton in common, and he’s adorable, and comfortable to be around, and funny, and kind, and what if I’m too much? I’m probably too much. I’m too new agey with my recent self-development and yogaspeak. I’m being way too open and vulnerable here and asking the questions I want to know the answers to instead of keeping the questions to myself where I make up some kind of answer to them because I really need to know. (Phew. That was a long sentence. I’m out of breath now.) 

I’m maybe too pushy too opinionated too whatever. And dating is hard. I’m not good at it. Maybe I should just go home. 

Wait a second though. 

 Am I too much? Is that true? Is it?

Or maybe, for the right person at the right time, I’m just enough. 

That’s possible, isn’t it. 

This is what I’m counting on. 

I am counting on the idea that you can 100% be fully and completely who you are and eventually, you will meet a person you can groove with, harmonize (badly) with, and laugh with while Lawrence Welk introduces yet another dancing family in matching polyester outfits highlighted with a rainbow of sequins. 

Here’s another thought I’m counting on: The right person at the right time is just as vulnerable and terrified as you are! Because being real is fucking scary. Because being real sometimes means being human. 

Trying to love someone, being open to love, is terrifying, because you could get hurt. Oh, the heart can hurt so deeply. 

 Okay. These are true things. Being real is hard. Asking to be loved can hurt. 

Onward…

I finished this online dating course with Mark Groves. It was really inspiring and helpful and went beyond dating. It was more of a course of Knowing. Knowing who you are, what you want in your life, what’s important to you, and what is something you’re not willing to compromise on. I looked at patterns in my life and why I chose to repeat them. And I had big revelations. I talked about the one about my dad when I realized that maybe he chose not to be in my life because HE wasn’t good enough for ME, and not the reverse.

That was a life-changer. That idea. I’ve been applying it to the men I’ve met…this idea that maybe they’re just not right for me. Not that I’m too broken, or too much, or not enough. That shit’s exhausting. That shit’s just a story. The truth is that connecting is hard. It’s a bit of magic. It’s timing: where you are in your life, where you want to go, who you are now, and who you want to be. And I know who I am and what I want. Why keep pretending I’m confused? I’m not. 

After that revelation, I rewrote my profile on Bumble. Instead of forcing anything, I was just honest: I said I wanted a deep connection with someone, but that takes time and probably a fair amount of awkwardness. I said I’ll know it’s meant to be if we both decide to keep going, keep exploring, keep growing. I said I was liberal, pro-charcuterie and I like takeout under the stars, if the stars are out by 7PM because I’m a morning person. 

Then I met someone pretty wonderful. He read my profile and liked it, in all that “Hey! Here I am!” ness. He is liberal minded. Pro-charcuterie. A morning person. Likes Lawrence Welk and the Muppets. Likes comedy. Likes expression. Likes that my second toe is freakishly long. 

I don’t know where it’s going. I don’t have to. I’m just grateful for this, for meeting him and for whatever happens because it taught me something big: there are men out there who will appreciate you for who you are, as you are now, in the body you are in now, with all your faults and cracks and brokenness because they are who they are, as they are, in the body they have now, and have just as many flaws and tender spots as you do. 

It’s called being alive. It’s called living a rich life. It’s called being real. I may get my heart broken, and if I do, I’ll write more love poems, and I’ll cry, and I’ll be grateful I had a connection with someone because that is a fucking gift. It’s a delight and worth the risk.

This is new to me, but that’s okay. I can work with new. And I can also work with the unknown. I don’t have to know everything right now. 

 Maybe in the not-knowing is where magic waits. 

 That’s another thing I’m counting on.

ABOUT TANYA:

Tanya Eby is a narrator, a writer, a cheese lover, a wine drinker, a passionate person, a poet, a mentor, a friend, a mom, a necklace wearer.

She lives in Michigan in a fairytale house that is filled with love, and things that need to be recycled--because taking that stuff outside to the bin is a lot of work.