Playing with Fire

-while on the way to the Cruz de Fierro??

I woke in the morning and I turned on my laptop to a brief message from the Match.com man, who had unexpectedly broken through my focus on all my Camino learning and the preparation challenges ahead of me the night before.

”Hope your sleep was peaceful and your dreams worthy of your beauty. Enjoy your day.”

Rodrigo

I was vaguely aware as I woke that my dreams had alternated between Puerto Rico and standing at the foot of the Cruz de Fierro, halfway through the Camino, where I planned to do an ancient ritual to let go of my self-sabotage with wine and the wrong men.

Flurry of Messages

In between the workshops I was attending and the patients at his dental office, our sharing went deeper. We started sharing our common loves and passions from growing up in the rich culture of Puerto Rico that we had never been able to share with any other partner after long lives of relationships. It stirred my beloved memories of flavors, aromas and sounds and I was drawn in magnetically.

We agreed that we needed to meet. He wrote that he understood if I needed to decompress for a day or so after my conference and drive back to Corona, but I couldn’t bear to wait with anticipation of what this might be, so I responded that I could easily meet that same night, after dropping Sandi off at John Wayne Airport.

I even went so far as to suggest that we meet at my favorite restaurant in Corona, the Citrus City Grille. No casual meeting at a Starbucks for this encounter. I didn’t want to wait a minute longer than necessary to see, in person, if this was as good a connection as it seemed. I knew that our similarities meant that we at least would have plenty to talk about for a fascinating few hours, so it was OK to commit to a dinner, rather than just a coffee.

His Restaurant Challenge

Before getting my hopes up about our compatibility, I also needed to test from the very start, if he was willing to pay for upscale, well-prepared cuisine. Good food was a big part of my life. I had trained with Lynne Rosetto Kasper, a writer for Bon Appétit and the founder of NPR’s Splendid Table program. I had even had a catering business. If he wasn’t into food, it wouldn’t work, no matter the other common loves.

On our drive back south, Sandi and I bubbled over with excitement over all we had learned and started forming our travel plans and next steps. She told me about meeting Denise, a woman from Fresno who was interested in joining us. She had just lost her husband and wanted to get far away from everything for a while, but was relieved to find some walking partners.

During the couple of hours on the freeway, I drifted back and forth between my realization that my dream of walking the Camino was really happening and how urgently I needed to start training, and another dream that I thought would never come true, a man in my life to share Puerto Rico with. I tried to pay attention to the traffic as I drove, but I was kind of floating.

The Stories

Dinner was as intriguing as I had hoped. We were both very drawn into all we could share without explanation. He obviously was accustomed to and enjoyed fine cuisine, but the food hardly mattered, as we talked and talked and the wine flowed. Besides our conversation about what we loved and missed about Puerto Rico, we told more about our current lives and I shared my plans for walking the Camino in the fall.

We discovered at we shared our stories, that I actually knew much more about the town of his birthplace than he did. I even remembered it as it was in the 1950s, when teens paraded around the plaza on Saturday nights, the girls with their chaperones.

He said that when he was a year old, his family moved to New Jersey so he actually grew up in the city, and that his mother had been so abusive during his childhood that he had run away and volunteered for Vietnam to get away from her. He said that he had been a mess when he returned, had to be hospitalized and was almost given electroshock treatment and never went back home. He shared it all so matter-of-factly that although I shuddered inwardly, remembering being leary of dating a Vietnam vet, I made no comment.

Teens in the Parking Lot

As we stepped out of the restaurant, he suggested that I sit in his car for a few minutes before I got into mine. He reached for me and I was ready. The kiss was intense and more followed. I pulled back and laughed at the ridiculousness of making out in a parking lot with another 61-year-old.

Realizing that we were going to be going our separate ways, he said, “I have an idea, Skyline Drive, the trail over the hills into Orange County, starts behind my house. Why don’t we start your training this Sunday.” I quickly agreed.

Facing My Therapist

The next day, at my weekly appointment, I told my therapist about the new man. She was already well aware of my either quirky or sad relationship history, especially my most recent disasters. She asked some pointed questions like, “Do you see some ‘red flags” here?”

I had to respond, “Yes.” But since I was already feeling the pull of an undertow (much like the treacherous waves at Isabela beach behind Rodrigo’s profile pic.), I continued, “Yes, but I’ve decided to let myself explore this.” She rested her chin on her hand and stared at me.

What was I doing at 61, still deciding to go ahead and play with fire? My younger sister was visiting from Colorado. I told her about the man, the “red flags” and that I was nevertheless choosing to “play with fire.”

Shil Sengupta

I wondered what was going to happen during the next six months till I would find myself standing in front of the Cruz de Fierro, where I was planning on letting go of my self-sabotage with wine and the wrong men.