My First Date in Two Years

Before the world was shaken up by this global pandemic, my personal world was already disrupted. Having been seriously ill and fighting for my next breath, I quickly grew to appreciate each new moment and each person sharing it with me. I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease that ravaged my muscles. This disease I had never heard of before, had a vendetta against my lungs. And it wasn’t going to stop attacking until my lungs stopped functioning.

Unknowingly, I was unconscious for months in a medically induced coma. Your ability to accept the reality that you were not an active participant in the world, as everyone you know lived their lives without you is both confusing and astonishing. It is amazing how you adapt to the unfathomable. Either you bend or you break. Breaking is not my style.

With a tube hanging out of my throat and full-body muscle weakness, I couldn’t eat, speak or move. I was temporarily speechless and paralyzed. I couldn’t remember the past few months and grew to realize that I had even lost memories from before my medically induced coma. The memory can be a tricky dick. A real son of a witch. The mind has a way of attempting to fill in the blanks of the past by what you observe in the moments of the present.

At 40 years old, my lungs were failing me. Because of this, I was placed on a ventilator and a machine to aid my heart and lungs for life support. Narcotics were coursing through me to combat my persistent pain and I was placed on the national transplant recipient list for a set of lungs. While I waited to find out what was next for me in life, my love life wasn’t waiting.

They cut down the center of my chest. A little off-center, if I’m being honest. The incisions wrapped under each breast. My chest was closed with metal wires and hooks, leaving me with the feeling of wearing a permanent harness beneath the surface of my scarred skin. I still had a broken tourniquet piece embedded somewhere amongst the flesh in my chest. But I was alive.

In time, I got up from my hospital bed and eventually regained most of what I lost. After receiving new lungs, I got a second chance at breathing and an opportunity to start living a new life. Recovery didn’t come solely from self-motivation, I had outside driving forces pushing me along my journey. One of those forces was the love of Al.

Al patiently observed and waited. Visiting me in the hospital a few times a week, oftentimes contacting my ex-husband to see if our kids needed a ride or anything else before he arrived? He brought me the seek and search puzzle books I love to help me pass the time once I was able to hold a pen again. He remained consistent, kind, helpful and most of all-- friendly.

Things didn’t work out between Al and me in the past because I didn’t feel as if we were progressing. We weren’t making plans for the future and we kept rehashing the same issues. I didn’t feel as if he valued my level of uniqueness. I knew I was different from women he’d dated in his past, but maybe in this case different wasn’t necessarily better?

Regardless, there was no tension or resentment for not making him my one and only. Al was simply a good person, and I was glad to have him in my life.

What I hadn’t realized was that Al was silently making plans. For years he had hoped for one more chance. And if given the opportunity he would get things right this time. Al was prepared to show me a side of himself I hadn’t previously known. He was a new man.

He remained. Al persistently checked in on me. He made sure I had whatever I needed without hesitation. I didn’t suspect that he desired to be with me again after nearly four years of a distant friendship. We always had strong sexual chemistry, but that was part of the problem. In the past, sex seemed to rule all of our encounters and I wanted to be appreciated for more than how I can perform in the bedroom. Despite that concern, Al and I revisited a sexual connection.

Al knew how the old me liked to “get it in”. This changed version of me was a fragile and sensitive remnant of who I once was. After all my medical issues, I simply could not take his stroke and immediately thought abstinence was the right choice for me. Pain caused everything to shut down. After a sex-less year, I was a born-again virgin, and Al's enthusiasm was more than I could bear.

I assumed he wouldn’t be understanding about the change in my libido, but he was. He was different this time. He realized that I was still early in my recovery and therefore had to take things slowly. The man who I once viewed as a bit of a hound dog was patient and considerate despite his strong desire for me. Al had been celibate while I was in the hospital. Every part of him was waiting for me in every way.

He’s an attractive brown man who maintains a strong physique, a bald head, and a salt and pepper mustache with a goatee. His kind eyes match his kind nature, but his most appealing characteristic is his openness. Al has always been honest with me. He’s never sugarcoated his words or told me what I wanted to hear just for the sake of protecting my feelings. He hasn’t been hurtful with his language; he just hasn’t led me on.

So when Al told me he prayed for my recovery and for another chance at loving me, I believed him. Before I got sick, we had begun communicating again. We hadn’t seen one another but were making plans to meet up. While I thought we’d catch up over dinner and drinks, Al knew he was going to suggest we consider seriously dating. The difference this time would be the “serious” part.

Apparently, over the years, he had dated various women. Each time, he searched for key elements that he thought were essential to his happiness. Experiencing good times and fun instances came easily but creating lasting memories worth rehashing with hopes of reliving, were unattainable. Those kinds of moments were reserved for me.

Before we could rebuild or even have the chance to discuss the possibility, I got sick and spent ten months in the hospital. Al thought our chance at love might be lost and that I might die without knowing how he felt for me. Oblivious to all of this, I thought he was my friend. Al knew he was going to be my man. He had already returned to me, he was just waiting for me to make my way back to him.

We spent time indoors together out of the COVID-19 element. We were cautious about me damaging my new lungs and spending another chunk of my life hospitalized. So, we didn’t get to go on that date we were planning years ago. Since vaccines are available in my city and Al got fully vaccinated he thought now was a good time to have that first date as we embark on a new chapter.

He wouldn’t tell me anything but the date and the time to be ready. We killed time running errands before venturing to this mysterious establishment with outdoor seating. Since the restaurant was a BYOB, Al needed to stop off at the Wine and Spirits Shoppe to grab a corkscrew for his favorite Robert Mondavi Merlot. After having a double lung transplant surgery, I have vowed to always respect my body and appreciate the sacrifice of another’s life in order for my survival. Therefore, no wine for me, only a soft drink, juice or water.

Full of surprises, we visited Al’s 86-year-old mother before heading to a familiar area I hadn’t been to since before I got sick. He asked if I knew anyone who lived in the vicinity? It was a best girlfriend’s neighborhood where she and her husband had moved to shortly before I fell ill.

I was in the hospital for nearly a year and now home for a year, so I hadn’t really been anywhere in two years. Another surprise! I guessed we were having a double date with my best friend and her hubby because they too were fully vaccinated. Al really wanted to make sure I felt comfortable and safe under the circumstances of me being immunosuppressed in this new world we’re living in.

We arrived at Gayle and Manny’s house and I made a bee-line to Gayle to find out why she failed to mention our impending encounter? She insisted she had just found out moments before when she came in from work. I watched as she tried on outfit after outfit feeling unprepared for our unexpected outing.

She considered matching my look. I was dressed in my multi-colored but mainly red, Anu African Ray Darten jacket dress. I had purchased it online a season before in hopes to finally have that date Al and I talked about. Today was the day and with the waist-cinching dress and my strappy black DKNY stilettos, I was dressed for the occasion.

Things started making sense. Surprising me with a double date as our first date in years was what all the secrecy was about and I was flattered. I was looking forward to creating new memories at this new place we were heading to next. Then Manny began packing up both his and Al’s vehicles with bags and equipment. Hold up, I have not dressed appropriately for whatever is about to go down. But neither has Gayle but we roll with it anyway.

We arrived at Veteran’s Park in Broomall, Pennsylvania. A beautiful suburb of Philadelphia, the park is tree-filled with colorful variety and only a handful of people besides us on this chilly spring afternoon.

“Look at that dress!” An overly enthusiastic passerby exclaims. “What are ya’ll celebrating?!”

I looked at Gayle, she looked back at me. Our arms were locked as we precariously made our way down the steep ramp in our twin pairs of black high heels. We definitely did not appear park-ready. I gauged this date all wrong.

The men headed to the empty gazebo in the center of the park. They began setting up a table with a tablecloth, chairs, candles, champagne flutes and started the flame on a portable camping stove. R&B music was playing sweetly through a wireless Bluetooth speaker. They thought of every detail. I was beginning to think Gayle had some input because it was too perfect.

Candra Dry Bold was poured into our glasses as we toasted to my recovery and ability to make it out to have our first official date in years. I was served deliciousness from Visions, a local soul food restaurant. Grilled salmon with lobster sauce, steamed veggies, baked macaroni with cheese and mini sweet cornbread muffins adorned our red, square, snake-skinned patterned plates. Al, Gayle and Manny partook in sipping on a glass of Merlot as we enjoyed the seclusion of our perfect picnic under the now illuminated pavilion.

Al was eager to show me something. As I turned to stand, he began to kneel. I saw certainty and confidence in his eyes although mine were now filled with tears as he began to speak. My new lungs no longer feeling as effective as they were moments before, this man took my breath away. My hand in his, he expressed that I was the best thing that has happened to him and that he thanks God for sparing my life so he can spend the rest of his making me happy if I would give him the honor to do so. I do.

That was truly my dream date and I will never date another man.