by Amy Hartley

Created on: February 27, 2010   Last Updated: February 28, 2010

Dating had never been a focus of mine. I had been with my high school sweet heart for seven years and had never entered the scene. When I did become single I decided to make up for the lost time. My marriage ended abruptly, consensually abruptly, and after six months of focusing on healing myself I decided to open a new chapter in my life.

First dates were the worst, and there were many of them. At my age my friends were all married and their spouses had plenty of coworkers, friends, cousins, or siblings to set me up with. I do believe I got better after the first ten dates about how to end the relationship at the door step. This prevented the awkward phone calls and excuses about why I could not go out again. They were to serious, to goofy, or just weird. I knew what I wanted and was focused on making myself happy with the next relationship.

I did not intend on dating more than one person at any given time, but that is how the cards played out. I fell for two dates within a week. I was accustomed to failed dating, so I had allowed my self to schedule two dates in the same weekend. Both were intriguing, smart, sexy, and my type. After realizing my dilemma and wondering if I should limit myself to one serious dating relationship I spoke with my friend. “Date them both, what can it hurt” had been their response. As long as I was not serious yet I decided it was fine to date multiple people and to keep it to myself that this was the situation. 

Dating became interesting. My time away from work and other obligations consisted of accepting invitations to dinner, parties, and late night rendezvous. It felt as if I were two different people. One night I was at a cocktail party and the next I was drag racing down at the figure eight race track. My dates had polar opposite interests when it came to recreation. I liked each for individual qualities and it began to become clear I had a dilemma on my hands.

I had managed to avoid the subject of moving forward in either relationship and had not had to lie about the fact that I was seeing another person. The subjects had never come up, assisted by my cheap sarcastic hints of being afraid to be hurt again in a relationship. The hurt thing had always worked on me and it seemed to work on my dates. After six month of dating, the great serpent of love kill slithered into the equation.

Confrontation was expected, but to this degree was somewhat disturbing. When one lover finds you in a restaurant, holding hands

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