It had been more than eight months since my husband of 50 years passed away. With my new title — widow — I had much to consider going forward.
After decades of living as a couple, I learned to do as one what we had done as two. When that part of my life was in order, I needed to focus on what should come next. But what? I hadn’t a clue.
It’s time to move on, friends, both single and married, advised. But when and to where? I couldn’t even think about another man in my life, let alone in my bed, if that was what they were talking about.
But deep down, I had begun to think about having a dinner companion with someone other than CNN’s Wolf Blitzer, who reported the news to me each evening.
When my friend, Iris, who became widowed a year before me, called to see how I was doing, I fibbed and said I was just fine.
“And you?’’ I asked.
‘Really, really good,’’ she answered. “I met a lovely man and we’ve dated a few times. Nothing fancy,’’ she added, ‘’just a couple of burgers and a beer.’’
“I wouldn’t mind meeting someone,' I told her, "but frankly, I don’t know where to begin. More so, I added, I am fearful of being rejected.’’
Iris understood. On her first try on an Internet dating site, she met “two nice guys.” But when neither one called her for a second date, she felt discouraged.
She tried one more time and luckily met Rodger, a boyfriend with whom she spent weekends for the next three “glorious years’’ she said, before he passed away.