It happened again. I went on another first date that didn’t leave me wanting a second. The man was intelligent and ambitious, polite and friendly. But there was no spark, and, when I got home afterwards, I realized that I hadn’t laughed once. Not once. And I have that kind of sense of humor that finds just about anything funny.
And, that’s when it happened. I pictured my first date with Rick and the non-stop talking, the laughter, the fun of it all. He was interesting and charismatic, and there was never a lull in the conversation. I couldn’t wait to see him again. And my latest date paled in comparison.
I can’t keep doing this – rejecting men because they don’t compare to Rick. I know it’s wrong. There are millions of widows who find love again, so what’s my problem?
If I do make it past the first date, then it’s just at a later stage when I start the comparison. Rick and I lived hundreds of miles apart when we were dating. He flew in every Friday after a long workweek to see me, so why is this guy complaining about the 45-minute drive? Or Rick always held my hand when we were walking, but this man never seems to want to. Or Rick bought me flowers for no reason, but this man has never bought me any after months of dating.
I don’t do it on purpose. I just feel this nagging voice in the back of my mind saying, “wait, this is subpar” or “hmm… this is missing something,” and all of it adds up to this underlying thought:
Rick loved me like no man ever has or ever will again. I can’t believe I’ll ever experience a love story like ours, again.
It’s been more than five years since he’s been gone, but the highlights of my time with him and the memories of his acts of love are still fresh. I fear that no man will ever stand a chance.
I know it isn’t fair to my prospective dates, so I’ll do my best to keep my focus on the present, not the past. I’ll keep going out and living in the moment. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met the right man yet. Perhaps when I do, I won’t be tempted look back any more.
I guess only time will tell.
About Katherine Billings-Palmer
On August 13, 2017, I lost the love of my life. Rick Palmer and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary one month before he died at age 63 of complications from treatments for small cell lung cancer. He was my partner and soulmate, the love I had been looking for and finally found at age 40.
Rick was a talented writer and web designer and, in 2002, we began our own web and print design business. We worked together building the business and enjoyed traveling, writing, and playing together. Our dream was to spend our golden years together doing more of the same, but in the ten months from diagnosis to death, that dream shattered.
After Rick’s death, I quickly realized that the enormity of his loss was too much for me to handle on my own, so I began grief therapy. I also began writing through my grief in a journal of feelings, thoughts, memories, and poetry. As I navigate my new life alone, I share my journey and my efforts towards creating my “new normal” on my personal blog: The Writing Widow. I’m also on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.
I've published three books about my grief journey: my poetry book, I Wanted to Grow Old With You: A Widow's First Year of Grief in Poetry, and two books of poetry and prose - A Widow's Words: Grief, Reflection, Prose, and Poetry - The First Year" and A Widow's Words, Year Two: Grief, Reflection, Prose, Poetry, and Hope."
I also published a memoir: "My Story: A Memoir in Poetry and Prose." All my books are available in ebook and print versions on Amazon.com.
I read somewhere recently that after losing our partners, any new relationship in the future is automatically a relationship with three people in it.
It’s likely something others would feel differently about as our grief journeys are all so different. But it made me stop and think and I wanted to share it.
I love reading about the life you have created for yourself now. And about the deep love you and Rich shared.
I’m almost 9 months into suddenly losing the love of my life – so, still in a phase which feels without meaning most days if I’m honest. Every day I miss the love, laughter, fun and joy he brought into my life. But I also look for glimmers of hope too.
In terms of finding a partner for this next chapter of your life, I can imagine it’s impossible not to compare. I suppose one of the challenges is you’re not comparing like with like. You had all those wonderful years with Rick to get to know him and allow him to bring those shining moments of joy into your life. Inevitably, comparing all that to one evening with someone new – with all the nerves that come with a date – will always fail.
It’s not a criticism in any way. As I say, it’s inevitable. And I agree connecting through humour is so crucial! I can imagine being exactly the same. But I wonder if it’s simply keeping that somewhere at the back of your mind. And giving that new person the space to be the best version of themselves they can be and then deciding if that’s a good ‘fit’ for you and your life.
Better off single than with someone who is not going to appreciate you fully and care for all your needs, emotional included. And encourage you to continue to grow too. It’ll be worth the wait. But in the meantime you have wonderful memories, and there are a few benefits of being single, as long as we don’t become self-centred. I appreciate your posts very much!
My husband was also diagnosed with small cell lung cancer in May 2022 . He was gone 10 months later. We were married almost 38 years. No children and the friends & family including his brother went running for the door when they heard the news. I was and still am all alone with his illness. It has been very difficult. I blame myself for not seeing he was sick. Everyday is a struggle get up and go to work.
Once you meet the right one, you will know. Your gut is right. Believe and trust it always. The right guy will never be another Rick. He will be different for your next chapter. 🙂
That’s a good point Cherie. I guess we change and grow, so the next person will be just right for the next season of our lives.