We were supposed to meet today. About two hours before the date, he canceled. There was a problem involving his parents, and he needed to take care of it. He was very apologetic. I understood, and I was still sad.
We matched on Facebook Dating. He seemed to be a slow texter, which was fine with me. Not everyone wants to conduct an entire relationship through a little rectangle before agreeing to meet in person. Eventually, we made plans, and I was glad we’d gotten that far.
Then he got sick and had to cancel. These things happen. We rescheduled for today, so there was still something to look forward to. The first cancellation hadn’t felt like the end of anything; it had just moved the possibility a little farther down the calendar.
This time, it was his parents. At our age, if we’re fortunate enough to still have them, they’re getting older and sometimes need help. I certainly understand that. I don’t know the details of what happened, and I’m not sitting here trying to build a case against him. He sounded sorry. I can believe him.
The disappointment is in how hard it was to reach this ordinary little milestone in the first place. Anyone who’s spent time on the apps knows that getting from a match to an actual plan can take some doing. We had finally reached the part where we might find out what it was like to be in the same room.
I wasn’t expecting a grand romance to announce itself on arrival. I wanted to meet him. That was enough to make me look forward to today, and enough to leave a gap when the plan disappeared.
I’ll be okay. Right now, though, I don’t quite know what to do with myself. There’s time I thought would belong to a date, and instead I’m here, feeling sorry for myself for a bit. Thanks for listening.
