Main Squeeze

I’ve written about the epiphany I had in my closet a year ago following my shoulder surgery. I was ending the seven weeks I spent recording my audiobook, thinking about my lot in life, wishing it would change and realizing I was the only one who could change it. I didn’t take action until I returned to Florida after visiting my California kids following last year’s Christmas holiday. I wrote a blog on January 12th of this year and outlined eight things that I had done or planned to do. The final three read as follows:

• I joined a couple of singles groups here in The Villages last year. My shoulder surgery and the holidays interfered with my participation this season. I signed up on-line for a new group last Sunday and went to three meetings this week. I volunteered for the “sign in” committee. When they have large events, people have to check in. I’ll be one of the “checkers”. I’m going to the next “greeters” training to learn how to be a “greeter”. Checkers and greeters interact with everyone, so I hope to expand my group of single friends this way.
• One of the new group meetings is for people who find themselves alone because of the loss of a spouse. Some through death. Some through divorce. They meet once a week for two hours. There are about two-dozen people in the group. Everyone was very welcoming, and the leader is well organized. I plan to attend each week. There’s one other guy in the group. He attended his first meeting this week as well. We learned at the end of class that we’re the first males to join. It’s always been women only. We’re going to be trail blazers.
• I’m going to start meeting one on one with a new therapist this week. I’ve got things to unload. I’m not sure how often we’ll meet but if I’m going to move forward, I’ve got to do it mentally as well as physically. Writing helps but talking does too. It’s been almost two years since I met one on one with someone. I’ve got to clean out the cobwebs.

I never followed through with the checker- greeter option outlined in the first bullet point. This new group had cliques just like the other groups I had joined. I tried my best to become an active member but didn’t succeed.

I had a single session with the therapist that I mentioned in bullet point three. She was more interested in how I was going to pay her than my struggle with grief, so I was one and done with her.

Bullet two was full of surprises. That group has become very important to me. Everyone there was looking for a new beginning. That’s why its founder, Barbara, named the group Singles New Beginnings.

I didn’t join the group looking for someone to love but I found one. It wasn’t love at first sight, but I was attracted the moment I saw Barbara. She appeared confident, carried herself well, and spoke with compassion. I liked her right from the beginning. When she introduced herself and spoke of the loss of her husband, Phil, I thought it might be too much too soon, so I rejected my initial thoughts of stepping forward. After all I was carrying my own loss so I knew grief could be overwhelming.

I don’t recall the topics the class discussed during our first two sessions, but I know I liked being there and I found everyone to be welcoming. We were all looking for something new. New friendships were high on my list. I wanted both men and women single friends because after losing Ruth, I learned that married and single people are different. Nothing bad ever happened, but we have different priorities. I recognized the change because I used to be one.

At the end of our second class I told Barbara that I wanted to have a conversation with her. I wanted to get to know her better. She rejected that first ask, but over time, changed her mind. We had coffee, then lunch, went to a movie, and had several long conversations about a ton of things, including her love for Phil and mine for Ruth. We understood one another’s loss. She lost Phil in a week. I lost Ruth in a moment. Unless you’ve been there, you can’t know the impact of sudden loss.

We discovered that we had some things in common and we’re miles apart on others. She’s a vegetarian and a minimalist. I’m an omnivore and a-got-a-lot-of-stuffist. In spite of that, we started to care for each other. We continued to talk about everything. No subjects were taboo, including our lost loves. And if we could choose, we’d go back to how things were before, but we can’t so we both feel lucky that we’ve found one another.

Shortly after we started dating, I had a series of heart procedures that led to two stents. She’s gone to every appointment with my Florida cardiologist and hung out in Michigan with me for part of last summer. She helped me change my diet, encouraged my exercise, shared her time and words, and we grew to love each other through the process. It didn’t come in a huge rush but was built over time. I think things are more solid when they’re built that way. I call them baby steps. We’ve taken them one at a time.

I don’t know where we’ll end up, but I think we’ll hold hands while we’re walking. That seems important to her, and I’m good with it too. We care about and take care of each other.

I jokingly call her my main squeeze. Truth be told, you only need one squeeze as long as you’re sure it’s the right one. I am.