“Another fair point. Goddammit.”
“I mean, can you imagine that conversation on a first date? In New York? It’d be different if I stayed in DC or some other city where people also got married when they were barely old enough to buy beer.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Fuck, that’s true. There should be a regional dating app for twentysomething divorced people. Probably wouldn’t get much traction in a place like New York, though.”
“Does anyone ever put ‘divorced’ in their Bumble profile?”
He looked like he was really thinking about it.
“I was just joking. But I bet you’d swipe left.”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it.”
I paused. “Honestly, I never saw myself as a selfish person until I left Ben. But things got to a point where I needed to be selfish to go after what I wanted. It scared me a little bit. In five years, I wanted something completely different than I thought. The person I was when I left was completely different than the person that married him. Like, unrecognizably different.”
“Because you grew up. Like most people do in their twenties.”
“Right. But I was supposed to be growingwithsomeone.”
“Siri, what’s another word for ‘supposed.’”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He looked frustrated, like he was trying to put words to something he could only feel.
“I just think you’re not actually that different from anyone else, Sam. I mean that in a good way. We all become ourselves in different ways. You happened to get married in the middle of it. None of us are the same as we were five, ten years ago. When I was in college, I thought I wanted to manage a Boston sports team. Now I’m a schmucky Big Law associate wishing Ihadn’tgrown past that dream, because it would probably be a lot more fun than what I’m doing now. But you know what I’m saying? Realizing your ambition couldn’t thrive in your marriage doesn’t make you selfish.”
He looked so earnest, like someone who could stumble into a forty-eight-hour date because life just happens to them.
I wondered what it would be like to date someone for a month, or six months, or years. Or spend forty-eight hours together and never see them again. Either way, it was enviable how normal all the options were for someone like Charlie. He could learn about himself through natural channels of experience. I felt like that ship had sailed.
“I can’t get past the idea that becoming myself meant hurting someone else.”
“And maybe one day you’ll find yourself on the other end of that. You don’t know.”
“Maybe. I guess I’d deserve that.” I took the last sip of Sapporo. “Caroline thinks I won’t be interested in someone my own age because they don’t have as much life experience as me or whatever,” I said, flailing to regain sure footing.
“Is she defining divorce as ‘life experience’?”
“Okay, lawyer, I don’t know how she’s defining it. But it’s true. I can’t really go about dating like everyone else does. Including you.”
Charlie looked wounded at being grouped with all the others. “But who will you date then? Will you just be single until you meet someone with the same ‘life experience’? No offense, but that doesn’t sound like the right strategy.”
I bristled. “It’s not a ‘strategy.’ I’m just thinking out loud. Becauseyouasked.”
He looked contrite. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I poked a spicy tuna roll. “I don’t want to get sidetracked by dating someone who wants more from me than I can give right now. I just need to keep my eye on the prize. And not fall for unavailable older men, like Leo.”
Charlie looked confused. “You’re into that partner?”
I immediately regretted the tipsy slip. “Heis‘unbelievably charming,’ remember?” I said, trying to laugh it off.
“That’s a little cliché, don’t you think?”
I shot him a look. “At this point in my life, I could be a little more cliché.”
“Not one of your better ideas. But you don’t need me to tell you that.”
