Dating with Cancer

Trying to find someone who will accept me and my medical history as been high on my list of things that cause me anxiety. The biggest question I've had is, if I do go on a date, when do I tell them about the cancer? Many people have said by the third or fourth date, because by then I'll know if I want to continue to see them. My issue with that is, by that many dates in, I'm sure I'd probably develop some feelings (because I'm a sap, I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I don't really know how to take it slow when it comes to matters of the heart.), and then what if I told them and they ditched me after that? That would be completely traumatizing and I would probably never want to attempt to go on a date again.

I know what you're going to say - "The right guy won't care about your cancer." or "Don't be ridiculous." or "Sometimes you have to make yourself vulnerable to get rewarded." I appreciate those comments, but it doesn't help. I know that whenever someone tells me something along these lines of encouragement, they mean well. But what I feel is valid, and nobody gets to tell me otherwise. I feel like I'm damaged goods, and who would want to take me home, when there are plenty of other non-defective pieces to pick from? Who would want to risk loving someone who's had cancer, knowing there's a possibility (no matter how small) that it could come back, and I could have to go through this whole experience all over again? Or that I might die? I know that we all die at some point, and that's a risk we take no matter who we date or fall in love with, but I feel like my odds of that happening are higher than anyone else's. Maybe that's a morbid thing to say, but these have been my thoughts. I'm scared shitless to let love in again. Especially because the last few times I did, my heart got trampled on. I also know that's a risk we take when we choose to love again, but I can almost feel the brick wall I've put up to barricade my heart from any further damage. I've carefully laid the bricks one at a time, as high as they will go in my chest cavity, and sealed them with as much plaster as possible. Telling myself Maggie is the only companion I need.

But the truth is, I miss having a partner. Someone to go on adventures with, to share parts of my life with, to talk to, and especially someone to hold me during the rough days. Throughout this entire cancer experience, I've craved someone to be by my side. Someone who wouldn't run scared when things got difficult or uncomfortable. I've wanted someone to just lay in bed with me while I cry, without trying to offer words of encouragement, but just let me feel my pain. Despite being surrounded by people who love me, I have felt incredibly alone in this whole process. But because of my past heartbreaks, and my current health status, I knew that dating wasn't something I was emotionally capable of, no matter how much I craved someone else's companionship.

But for about a month now, I've finally felt like I'm ready to get back out there in the world of dating. I feel like my health situation has settled down enough to where I can successfully manage my time between work, friends, doctor's appointments, and dates. I'm starting to feel like ME again. My problem from there was - how the hell am I going to meet anyone? While I know it's worked for many others, including two of my best friends that are getting married in May, online dating just really isn't my thing. I haven't wanted to go down that route yet. I like the idea of meeting people organically, in real life, because that's how all of my relationships have started. Knowing that is my preferred method of attempting to meet someone, I also knew that meant I would actually have to leave the house to make that happen, rather than sitting around at home in my pajamas watching reruns of Say Yes to the Dress (yep. shamelessly admitting I watch that show on the regular. All girls do). A lot of my friends are either married or in serious relationships, so I didn't really know who to go out with, or where.

That's when Alicia came along. She sent out an email to a group of her friends saying she wanted to host a Singles Night at a pub in Oakland. She told me that there were a few people she wanted me to meet, no strings attached. And while I was nervous as hell, because I'm usually shy, I put on my big girl pants, and went. Before going, though, I asked Alicia if the people she wanted me to meet knew about my cancer or not. She said she wasn't sure, and apologized profusely because she hadn't thought of that. I told her it wasn't a big deal, I just wanted to be prepared for both scenarios, in case it came up in conversation. I said it wasn't like I was going to introduce myself as, "Hi, I'm Whitney, I had breast cancer." Although, admittedly, I do want to try that out as a sort of social experiment to see what kind of reaction I would get. Granted, that's probably not the best idea since I'm still in a somewhat fragile emotional state about this.

Back to Singles Night. So, I went, and Alicia and a few of her other friends were the only ones there when I got there. Alicia had set up a table near the fireplace of conversation starters and treats. Included on the table was a Donkey Kong Nintendo 64 game cartridge that could be used as a security blanket. Gradually, more of her other friends arrived, so while she was off playing host, I attempted conversation with a few of the people I had met. Which, again, was difficult for me, because I'm shy. I finally met one of Alicia's best friends who I had heard a lot about, which was great. I also met one of her other friends Jesse that gifted me a book for no reason a while back just because he'd thought of me since he knew about my health. As the night went on, I talked to more and more people, slowly shedding my shell, and although I wasn't interested in anyone as far as dating, it was nice to meet new people. I talked to people about my job, school, dating in general, art, Friends episodes, and in one instance had my first experience of someone telling me negative stories about CrossFit after me telling him I'd just started the sport. I knew that eventually that would happen, so it didn't come as much of a surprise. I definitely started to get a little defensive, but luckily Jesse stepped in and commented that so long as people are exercising, who cares what the means are? (Thank goodness for him stepping in, because I almost went off on the other guy telling him he can stick to his wilderness nudist yoga retreats, and I'll happily be at my box throwing around heavy weight.)

Eventually, people trickled out, and I got tired, so I decided it was time to head home. Alicia and I said our goodnights, and she made Jesse walk me out to my car. Yoga guy decided to leave at the same time we did, and as he was getting ready to get on his bike, Jesse shook his hand. I then stuck out my hand for a handshake and to say "Nice to meet you" but Yoga guy opened his arms for a hug. And even though I really didn't want to give him a hug, I did anyways, because society beats it into women that it's unacceptable to be rude to someone, and we should go out of our comfort zones to make other people feel accepted. Jesse walked me to my car, and I happily gave him a hug, because I felt like I'd known him for a lifetime already. There was no hesitation at all. I felt perfectly comfortable hugging him.

It wasn't until the next day that I really realized what had happened about me being nice and giving someone a hug when I didn't want to, and how I wish I hadn't done it. I don't need to make anyone comfortable except myself, and I didn't feel comfortable doing it. I told Alicia about my realization, because I know she has strong feelings about society's rules on women's cordiality, and she agreed that it was a tough situation because I let it happen, but at least I realized I didn't like it, and not to let it happen again.

So, while I didn't find love that Tuesday evening, I did meet a few new people that were fun to talk to, and I pushed myself out of my comfort zone a little bit since I only knew one person at the event. That's at least a step in the right direction towards meeting someone.

Oh, and did I mention I have a date this coming Tuesday? (He asked me to dinner/drinks/coffee and said it was his treat - that's a date, right?) I'm already nervous since this is unlike the group setting of the Singles Night, and in typical girl fashion, I'm already concerning myself with what I'm going to wear.

(PS - If you're reading this, Mr. Tuesday, we can totally just call it dinner and catching up. Or is it a date? Fuck, I'm so far out of practice with this.)