THE CATCH

This is Part Two of a first date I had last week.  To read the first post, click here.


All great dates must come to an end.  It’s just unfortunate when that end happens at the halfway point. Should have parted with a coffee buzz and an excitement about next time. 

But I’d suggested a walk and he’d accepted.  Date on...

We walked along riverside pathways and through new subdivisions, continuing to chat without pretense.  It was a Goldilocks night—not too hot, not too cold.  Everything just right.  Everything.

Every time we reached a logical point to turn back, he’d nod at the next path or sidewalk.  Yes, walk on.  I sensed he would have walked with me all night.  Each time I looked at him, I got a stronger feeling that he was quite the catch.  At last.

And then he revealed THE CATCH. 

I’d asked him if he was out to his family in Mexico.  He replied, “You should know,...I’m married.  To a woman.  And I have kids.” 

I smiled.  Nodded.  Yes, everything is okay.  He said something else, but “I’m married” echoed in my hollow head.  I kept smiling and nodding. 

Somehow I managed a quick recovery and asked all sorts of questions about the wife and kids.  This is not a case of him being divorced.  Still married.  This is not a case of the wife being in Mexico.  She’s here.  Not in Vancouver.  Not down the street.  Living in the same home.

It’s a complicated scenario, that has been playing out for more than a year.  How long exactly?  I missed that detail.  The “I’m married” echo kept bouncing off the lovely exteriors in the trendy subdivision and hitting me anew.  The kids—two of them—are tweens.  The wife knows Javier is gay.  The kids don’t.  Some gay guy—me?!—is going to be “the other woman”, the one blamed by the boys for bringing down the marriage and destroying the family.

Red flags!  An objective outsider would be yelling for me to run.  Game over!

But we kept walking and talking.  We talked a lot about his children and his pride featured prominently in everything he shared.  I asked many questions about the wife, her process in accepting his coming out and his process for moving out.  Yes, that is the plan.  No, there is no specific timeline.  My jaded self, listening to someone else spout off these circumstances, would say, “Of course there isn’t a timeline.  There never is!”

As we finally stopped and stood on Fort Langley’s main street, I said the unthinkable.  “I’ve enjoyed this.  I would be interested in meeting you again.”

He said the same, as I knew he would.  Oh, what a time for me to finally find a greater confidence.

Once back in my car, all the rational thoughts against further interaction patiently queued before establishing a compelling case.  Defeatism seeped in as well.  They’re all deeply flawed.  Yes, there’s always a catch. 

So there you have it...two dates in one.  Outstanding, then utterly confusing.  What now?