I almost died September 3, 2007. A crash that shut down route 9 in Newton, MA and caused me to be out of work for a month.
I had just broken up with my ex right after we had just purchased a condo together. Actually we had broken up right before we signed the papers and it made for a very awkward closing. I was emotionally drained, broke, and everything all in all looked pretty bleak. My brother was gracious enough to move in with me and help keep me from going under financially and once I felt like I had gotten my bearings I thought I might as well start dating again. You see, up until recently I was perpetually dating just to fill a void. I don't know if it was loneliness, boredom, or sport…maybe a combo of all three. I never gave myself pause. I don't give myself time to heal and give myself time to think about what I actually want rather than what I feel I need from what others have. Instead, I just rush into the dating pool without testing the waters. No matter how deep or how cold that pool may be I just dive right in. I'm a serial dater or rather I was a serial dater. I'll admit it. There is however something to say about a boy who leads an optimistic view on dating and falling in love. With all the crap that is out there at least I continuously allowed myself to fall in love and it's paid off.
Prior to my frequent visits with Grindr and then Scruff, I was meeting men on match.com and manhunt. Whether it be for sex, short term dating, love, whatever I was on every site you could name. Well not every…just well a lot. All these sites advertise a specific focus, but whether you are looking on Match for love or Manhunt for sex there are relatively all the same men on these sites. I did meet some interesting people. Some I remain friends with, some who I had really great conversations with, Some who lied about themselves whether it be their age, relationship status, or job status. One who made me think I may end up at the bottom of the Charles River and who tried to prevent me from leaving his house, OH! and my "straight" married next door neighbor who recognized me on Manhunt and who wanted to come over, drink beer, and mess around "discreetly." Nevertheless, one night I began chatting with this guy who I was moderately attracted too and who seemed fairly normal. I look for signs all over the place. Something that could give me hope I'm on the right track. When he told me his birthday was January 22 and he was born in the year 1982, I was speechless. For those who don't know me well that is the day, month, and year I was born as well. So I thought, why not go on a date with a man who was born the exact day as me. I think if it wasn't for this fact I probably wouldn't have gone out with him, but thought that maybe when I met him there would be a spark having something to do with our birthdays. *I'm rolling my eyes as I type this* Signs…what a crock.
It was too be a very chill date. A mall date. Walk around, chat, have lunch, etc. He picked me up at my condo. I didn't invite him upstairs because my condo still looked like an old woman had vacated there. Pink wall paper and blue carpeting. ICK! I also didn't invite him upstairs because then he probably would think I wanted to mess around before we even got to know each other and it isn't because I HAVEN'T done that before…it's because well I just didn't find him that attractive and didn't want him to think I liked him that much. There was no spark. I've never been one to cut a date short, but I may have if I had taken my own car. I'm the type that will sit through a grueling dinner pretending to be interested just to be kind meanwhile I am thinking "I don't care…I can't believe I have to pay for this fucking dinner…stop talking.. shut up shut up….what do I have on DVR to watch…I hope he offers to pay, I'm not dropping a shit load of money for this...stop talking" I'm sure some guys I have gone on dates with have felt that way about be…I'm being cruel. I'll stop. Just being truthful is all.
We drove in his Volkswagen Jetta to the Chestnut Hill Mall and made small talk the whole way. I had never been before and I love checking out new malls. I love malls. Too bad I never made it in…
I woke up in a hospital bed at Beth Israel. Nothing made much sense. I wasn't startled just exhausted and annoyed because all I could hear was the sound of another patient, an old man, in my room yelling at the nurse because he was too cold. Then he began bitching because he wanted sugar and clearly couldn't have any for whatever reason. I turned and rolled my eyes at the nurse and made a look like, "I'm sorry you have to deal with this type of shit, but I'll be less needy, and well it is a bit drafty in here"… Then I remember having to pee and painfully getting up to use the bathroom, trying to close my gown from behind so as to not show whomever was in my room my bare ass….. Then I remember being visited by my friend Erica and my parents sitting next to me… Then I vaguely remember being let out of the hospital and crawling into my ex's bed with my dogs beside me...I remember taking a trip to the grocery store to get Italian ices because that's all I wanted to eat… then as I began weaning off my drugs I thought HOLY SHIT! I was on a date! Is he dead! I should be at work! I have a mortgage! OMG my face is REALLY messed up and I look emaciated! OMG no one will ever want to date me now! Why am I with my Ex?! I'm in a lot of fucking pain!!!! What happened!
A woman lost control of her car, gone airborne, and completely ripped through my date's vehicle. I mean seriously turned it into a convertible. I had suffered from tons of lacerations to the face, I had a bleed in my brain, a broken nose, and a fractured lumbar spine. When my brother showed up at the hospital, I was on a gurney with a cloth over my face and he started freaking out thinking I was dead. It all sounds bad but I was lucky. Very lucky. I should have been decapitated. I seriously have no idea how her vehicle didn't just tear my head straight off, but it didn't and I miraculously survived with no remembrance of the accident and vague memories of my time in the hospital. All I have are eyewitness accounts of what happened, pictures a journalist had taken, and a bunch of scars that remain.
Once I began remembering things, I reached out to my date who had many injuries as well but was also very lucky. He wanted to try and go out again and I said no thanks. He was pissed at me and started going off on me. Guess I sort of dodged a bullet there, you know despite my near death experience. but seriously after actually HAVING a near death experience with someone on a first date and the fact that we were born on the same day and could have possibly died on the same day…I really think seeing him again would have not been wise. Just saying. Not long after, my ex and I got back together, he moved into the condo and my brother moved out, I collected a large settlement, and things were good for awhile between him and I. Apparently I was asking my parents to get in touch with him a lot while in the hospital and being the nice guy he is, he took it upon himself to take care of me. I remember one night I tried to mess around with him and he said no, that he was only taking care of me because he loved me, but wanted nothing more. I was really taken back by that but I deserved it. I was a terrible bf to him. Once I was healed, I was determined to get him back and eventually it happened but so it goes…if it doesn't work the first time it most likely won't work out a second time but worth a try nonetheless. We remained living together for years as just friends which was hard at first but worked out fine.
I was on A LOT of heavy pain meds and made no sense half the time when I was speaking to people. I don't remember having any visitors or talking on the phone to those who called to check on me. It warmed my heart seeing all the get well cards and just knowing so many people were concerned. I guess I made a call to my boss and told him I was in an accident but it was no big deal and I would be returning to work in several days. In reality, I ended up being out of work for about a month. I also apparently told my parents a lot about my sexual past including the fact that not soon after my ex and I broke up I had sex with a man who failed to tell me he was HIV positive and I was apparently afraid I had it too and didn't want them taking my blood in the hospital. Not that I wouldn't date someone who was HIV positive, but we hadn't been safe and I failed to ask his status and he failed to tell me. My dad began to regularly call me from NY and would always somehow find a way to bring up, in conversation, safe sex, which was highly embarrassing but very sweet and thoughtful of him.
Much of how I act today, including my maturity, my decisions, my direction have a lot to do with people I have dated, been in love with, and the disasters that have come from many many dates I have been on. I plan on writing about them from time to time.
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