What Happened to Eden

The peanut gallery had one question: why, after eighteen years with the same man, would you jump into something exclusive with the first guy who took you for a drink?

My answer is threefold.

1. He made me feel comfortable. I am an extremely anxious person, so I’m never actually comfortable, but in a situation that would have otherwise been tense and awkward, I felt okay being tense and awkward. By our first date, I knew he had dated a lot of other women since he’d split from his ex, and some of the things he did had a whiff of routine or “moves,” but I appreciated all of them. Even something that seemed to be from a playbook was chosen for its effectiveness in previous situations I’m sure, because it still worked on me. Even with his comparatively vast experience, he texted me furiously before our first date asking what I thought he should wear. This might be a lot of women’s dream, but unless there is a specific need for special attire, I really don’t care what a man wears as long as it’s reasonably appropriate for the occasion. Don’t wear jeans to a wedding or flip flops in church and we’re good. But, it set me at ease for our first date knowing he wasn’t completely confident and self assured either. If I have something to focus on, like making sure someone else feels relaxed and appreciated, then I can take the focus off my own nerves. Catering to others is, rather unfortunately, my default, so when he would openly admit his faults or ask for advice, I felt useful. Thankfully, we could share that responsibility.
2. He made me feel safe. When we were both wishy washy about what to have for dinner or where to go, we annoyed the shit out of each other. I think we are both pleasers, which makes for poor decision making when we just want to cater to the others’ needs. But when we would make a decision, he would make sure I walked on the non-traffic side of the sidewalk, would throw out an arm if he sensed I was about to be bumped by a stranger, handle directions and parking, and order for us at a bar. Things that seem standard are sometimes not, when you’ve been married to a man who never carried your groceries let alone opened a door for you. The thing about cops is they are situationally aware. We walked down a sidewalk and suddenly he was yanking me towards him because I had almost walked into a steel cable. When I’m nervous about looking fat or sounding reasonably intelligent or my bra shifting out of position I am less than vigilant about my surroundings. I need someone who will notice I’m about to fall into a manhole. Don’t tell the feminists, but all I want is to be lead around by a safe man who makes all the decisions for the entire evening. I have three children, I make a thousand decisions a day. Please tell me where to go and what to wear and figure out parking so I can take a mental vacation for a couple hours. To me, that’s what makes it a date and not just dinner. If I have to decide where to go and how to get there, it’s a meal I could have provided myself. I know that when he takes charge, I will be safe and well fed.
3. He makes me feel worshiped. I know, the sex is always better in the beginning of a relationship. You can’t compare new sex to sex that’s almost two decades old. But the beginning of my last relationship was not like the beginning of this relationship. Granted, we were literally in our teens when we first met, and with age comes wisdom, but not for everyone. The Cop does. not. rush. There are times when I’m feeling self conscious or just really want him all over me, but he is so deliberate in everything he does. If I so much as sigh, he will take note and spend extra time on whatever made me react. He never skips right to the finish, he is extremely focused on me the entire time, and it’s almost unnerving. For one, the last person who saw me naked got a girlfriend, so I don’t feel completely confident. I don’t want to be a burden, so I feel tempted to just wail and fake it so the spotlight isn’t so glaringly on me. But he reassures me I can take my time, enjoy myself, he’s not going anywhere. He asks what I like, notices my mood and my response, and genuinely wants me to have as many orgasms as I can. It’s pretty humiliating to be asked what you like at thirty-eight and honestly not know the answer. I knew I was a sexual person married to someone who had to be reminded he shared a bed with a willing woman. I knew I’d rather have mediocre sex than none at all. But The Cop encouraged me to explore, offered suggestions for things we could try, and did his best to make me feel comfortable and relaxed. I was turned down and ignored more times than I care to remember, so my confidence was in the gutter. In a world where the agreed upon trope is the handsy husband who always wants to jump his wife, my entire existence was humiliating. Now, someone was eager to help me discover what I would enjoy, and encouraged me to try on a little confidence and spice which made me feel desired for the first time in a long time. Maybe you’re thinking well he did all that because he wanted to have sex. So did I. It was fun. How often do you find yourself smiling during sex? Every nerve ending thrumming at once while you close your eyes, tip your head back, and just enjoy the moment? When I’d open my eyes, he’d been looking down at me – at my body or at my face. It felt more naked than naked, but he didn’t look away.

And so, it’s clear I have thought through my decision to see where things go with my very first date after splitting with my husband. I had planned to shop around in different departments to see what fit, but having said yes to the best option on the rack, I’d pick the same department next time should this garment not withstand the season.