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by Julie Bergher
The Back Burner… you know the one. It sits, waiting to be noticed, eager to be useful, far in the back corner of our stovetops and it’s used by experienced cooks to keep something simmering while the more needy dishes demand all the attention.
Yes. You guessed it – I’m about to compare the art of cooking to courtship.
I met a man online a couple of weeks ago. He wrote to me and asked me to check out his profile. If I liked it, maybe we could chat. I liked it! Here was a man that seemed to hit many of my unwritten qualifications for a desirable match. He’s my age. He lives just minutes from me. Divorced, with kids either grown or out of state (with the ex!). Appreciative of the simple pleasures in life. Same religious preference. Almost too good to be true. I wondered, after all this time, what would it be like to date a man who seems (at least on paper) to be “made” for me? I imagined it would be so easy, so effortless in all areas. I fantasized that our conversations would be filled with common feelings and attitudes. I saw us having similar interests and planning activities together. There’s something to be said for the collective unconscious that people of the same age or generation share. References to 60s television, rock songs and so much in history foster a common understanding that makes you feel as if you’ve known each other far longer than you really have. I was looking forward to this.
Sometimes, however, our hopes (or, at least, mine) are unrealistic. This MFM (Made For Me) man made a date with me for one week from our first conversation.
I was getting more and more excited at the thought of meeting him. A couple of days passed, the countdown was on, but… no call. No text. No email. I knew he was busy, but how long does it take to send a text to a woman? Something as simple as, “Busy week. Hope yours is going well. Looking forward to next Tuesday!” Twelve words. Twelve! Not a paragraph. Not a full email. Not a phone call that takes planning and time when you’re swamped.
The week passed. Tuesday was here. That morning, knowing that he got up early for his long commute, I half expected a confirmation of some sort. Not an unreasonable assumption. Yet, there was nothing.
Tuesday afternoon – still nothing.
By the time he finally called at 5:15 p.m. for our 6 p.m. date, my bubble had burst. I guess I was hoping that he might want to enjoy the courtship phase as much as I did. Ask people who have been married forever and they’ll tell you that the secret to staying happy is to keep that excitement alive, and it all started when they were dating! If this man let a week pass between the one-and-only phone call and the first date, imagine the lack of passion through the weeks, months and years of being in a relationship with him!
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t call him, aye? He and I had agreed that he would call me. So I allowed myself to be put on that back burner, where you put things to simmer until you’re ready. I mean, really…shouldn’t this have been the beginning of the excitement – not the simmering? |
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