My Date Was With Another Woman When I Showed Up

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas from Pexels

Iwas excited about my meeting with Justin. As a recently divorced woman, I was eager to slip into a new relationship. No, that wasn’t such a good idea. In retrospect, it was a very bad one. But who can argue with a broken-hearted, middle-aged woman fresh out of a difficult marriage, desperate for a new partner?

Besides, Justin was handsome, creative, and had a natural sense of humor, which made him easy to talk to. As far as I could tell from our chats on the phone, we had chemistry. I showed up at our early-evening date at a coffee shop full of hope. Humiliation soon overwhelmed me.

Justin was with another woman when I arrived.

Was she his date or just a friend?

Strolling into the coffee shop at the appointed hour, I recognized him straight away. I saw him seated in one of the booths in the back. He looked just like his photo, his blue eyes just as piercing and his bone structure just as chiseled. I might have sauntered right up to him and hugged him tight if he wasn’t seated with another woman.

She had her back to me, and from what I could see of her, she appeared to be pretty and petite. Her long hair cascaded down her back in auburn waves. Her shoulders were slight, but her arms were muscular. She was wearing a tank top that exposed her arms and shoulders. She looked like she did a lot of yoga.

I checked the time. No, I wasn’t early. I reviewed Justin’s text invitation to this date. Yup, it was six o’clock, just as we agreed. His prior engagement had just gone overtime.

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Was he on another date? Had he booked meetings back-to-back or something? I get why someone would do this. It’s convenient. Who wants to drive through a lot of L.A. traffic to meet a bunch of people when you can stagger different meetings right after another?

But if this is how you roll, change up your venues a little. Pick a coffee shop to meet one gal in and a cafe down the street to meet another. Otherwise, there’s too much chance for meetings to overlap and for people to run into each other.

Don’t get me wrong — I wasn’t jealous. I, too, was still talking to other men and even going out to meet them. However, I did expect to meet on time. My time was a factor here.

Time is a precious commodity. It’s the one thing we can never reclaim. Once we spend it, it’s gone forever. Justin was wasting my time.

Why didn’t I just leave?

Today’s me would have turned around and left. Yesterday’s me still had an open mind. I just had to give Justin a chance. I’m sure he was actually a cool guy.

Let’s face it — my divorce had broken down my self-confidence. That and I was newly back on the dating scene after a decade’s hiatus. I was relearning the process.

Sure, dating is a bit like riding a bike. You never forget how to do it. Still, I felt confused. At the very least, showing up to find my date still on a date made me feel self-conscious. What the hell was I supposed to do?

I slunk back out of the coffee shop to regain my wits. I felt like it was my fault for showing up on time. I could only hope that Justin would wrap up his other date quickly. He didn’t.

I waited a few more moments — until 6:07 to be exact — then I texted him. Through the window, I spied on him as he received my text. I watched as he looked at his phone, reading my message. I observed him look around the coffee shop for me.

I texted again that I was outside, then waved frantically so he’d see me through the window. He spotted me and we made eye contact. I assumed this would give him the push he needed to end his date. To my utter shock, he texted back. “Give me a second.”

It was now 6:10. I’d already given him ten minutes! His second turned into five more minutes.

Then ten. It was now 6:20.

Home beckoned. Stupidly, I stayed. If you’ve ever inched through L.A. traffic to get somewhere, you might understand. It took me an hour to reach this coffee shop. I wasn’t raring to get back into my car just to drive home. But that meant waiting there like an idiot for Justin to finish up with his meeting with another woman.

What should I do? Go back inside, walk straight up to them, and interrupt their conversation? Force this woman out of her seat? My turn!

I chose to freeze, scared and weak. My self-esteem was in the gutter, thanks to my divorce.

But continuing to wait just made me feel even more humiliated. Now Justin knew I was there. Still, he was putting me off.

The woman he was meeting with was small and thin. I was tall and gangly — awkward. At least that’s how I felt. No wonder he wanted to stick with her! My mind began to work on overdrive.

I felt mortified just for being alive. Justin clearly liked her better! That’s why he didn’t want to end the date.

I finally mustered up some self-worth.

It was 6:30 when the woman finally got up to leave. Through the coffee-shop window, I watched her saunter toward the door, her gait graceful. No, she didn’t notice me. I was standing on the other side of a window — but I saw her.

Look at that svelte, yoga pant-clad body. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to rush their date! I had to take my turn with Justin after this woman? That was like asking me to take a spin on the ice right after an Olympic gold medalist had just turned a triple axel. I was going to fall flat on my ass! I was going to make a fool of myself.

Pretty Girl left the coffee shop, got into her Escalade, and drove off. My shoulders slouched. Might as well just get this over with.

I went inside, walked back to where Justin was seated and slid into the booth right across from him. I sat in the place where his female friend had just been seated. I swore I could still feel the heat from her body on the cushion — and that sickened me. It was as if her warmth could transmit some kind of communicable disease.

I forced some pleasantries then muttered: “That woman… who was she?”

“A mom from my daughter’s school,” Justin said.

Hmmm. Maybe she wasn’t his date. Maybe their meeting had been purely platonic. For all I knew they were just planning a playdate between their kids.

But still, making me wait like that… if Justin was already pushing my boundaries on the first date, what would he be like if we got together?

And then it struck me. Yes, Justin’s female friend had passed me something through her body: her self-confidence. Why the hell had I put up with this behavior? I bid Justin adieu shortly thereafter.

I arrived at this date, a desperate, middle-aged woman, floundering in the wake of a divorce. I left feeling different, somehow changed. I wouldn’t say that I left with 100% more self-assuredness — but I left feeling more secure than when I showed up.

It was one thing to be seeing other people while you’re dating. It was quite another to let your dates overlap.

And it was quite another to make your date wait on you while you’re finishing up with another meeting.

Haste makes waste but making a lady wait is plain rude. I made the mistake of letting a man make me wait once.

I would never make it again.