Six Date Rule

We reunited. We madly, passionately agreed that we were willing to close the door on our single lives and embark on a journey, a partnership, a lifelong love.

But there was something we had to take care of first...we had to date.

While working at a thrift store at the tail end of my marriage, I encountered a book about dating. I recall flipping through it until I found the subject of sex. It suggested I insist upon six dates from any particular suitor before dropping trou for him. The last time I dated, I was 21 years old, and I was generally eager to spread my legs for a fella for numerous ridiculous reasons, none of which involved my own sexual satisfaction or empowerment. I embraced this new found guideline as my own, if only to surrender control to a rule and avoid the hassle of making healthy decisions for my own good.

The very night we met, sparks flew. A day and a half of text messages led to a lunch date that I didn't want to end. The following night, he invited me to his place for a cocktail...and some couch time. And it was on that couch that I breathlessly stated my intention to maintain my chastity for at least four more meetings.

Twenty minutes later...

When Mark and I both concluded we wanted to hang out for the long haul, he insisted upon six dates before we consummated the relationship. A lot of water had flowed under each of our individual bridges during our months apart. Those six dates would provide an opportunity to know one another again, and push the definition of sex to it's very limit.

Part of the agreement for our reunion was that we would become equal partners. During chapters one and two of our love, I took the back seat in decision making, feeling that my voice didn't really matter as I wasn't able to make much of a financial contribution to our relationship. This time around, my backbone had to be present. We took turns choosing activities, counting down to that final magical night when we could...well...you-know-what.

We climbed walls, we cooked meals, we went to parties a week before they happened, we giggled, we reconnected, we loved. And yeah, we did that too.

Those six dates have come and gone. Continuing to woo one another was put on hold for a bit while we shopped for, bought, and moved into a house. The dust is settling and we will get back out there soon, squeezing deliberate together time into our busy schedules.

Those days and nights together sealed a promise that we intend to stick this relationship out, thick or thin. While it won't always be chocolate and pretty ponies, I'm reasonably certain there will be more laughing at ourselves than gnashing of the teeth. And if most of the tears shed are over cut onions than hurt feelings, I think we'll make this thing work well past our sell-by dates.