So…I have a confession. I’ve gotten into the habit of wearing the same dress to all of my first dates. All but the very first, really…(and in that instance, I wore it on the second).
Yes, it has been washed several times in the past few weeks, and no, it wasn’t deliberate; at least, not initially. In fact, I wish I could say that I’d intended it as one of the controls in this grand experiment I’m currently calling my love life, but no. It was just an attempt to make myself comfortable in a series of otherwise uncomfortable situations. What can I say? It’s a very comfortable dress.
But at this point, in addition to adding a democratic approach to each of these dates, I have to admit that it’s also become a bit of a security blanket.
It’s not my sexiest dress. It’s not my most demure, either. It’s neither low-cut nor covered up, or especially short or long. It’s not an eye-catching color (though I wish I had it in several more colors), but I seem to attract compliments whenever I wear it. The parts it reveals are vulnerable, but I’m still covering everything I’m not ready to show. And…as I sit here describing it, I realize that it is…clearly an analogy for me, and this entire (increasingly public) journey, isn’t it?
And yes, I suppose it’s also a great equalizer. No picking favorites, or giving my “A Game” to a select few. Nope, they all get the same girl, presenting herself for the same first impression…in the same dress.
And me? I get the satisfaction of knowing that whatever happens (or doesn’t), I’m being fair, approaching each new encounter with an open mind, and an equal amount of effort. At the very least, I’m making my best attempt to do so…and it’s the thought that counts, right?
I bring all of this up because I have a second date with “Mr. Goodbar” in a few hours, and frankly, I haven’t the slightest idea what to wear…