Sorry, It’s Been A Minute

But, hi again. Here's where I've been.

It was the end of summer; the grand finale. The last night of the long weekend and the sun was setting over the Hudson River in the tiny town of Athens, New York. The twinkle lights at the riverside restaurant some two hours north of the city flickered on as the sun dipped behind the mountains. The band played Elvis' Blue Moon. My guy had just ordered a banana ice cream sandwich when a woman stood up from a table across the patio and headed toward us. 

I squinted. Do I know her? Nope. I thought she must be trying to get a better view of the sun setting, but then she stopped at our table. 

'Hi, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I had to come over here,' she said with a smile.

'Hi?!' Confused but trying to match her enthusiasm.

'I'm Renee. I read DOUBLE TAKE and have to say, I love it.' 

OK. That was the VERY LAST THING I expected her to say. Especially at this restaurant in the middle of nowhere, Catskills.  If anything, I thought she'd ask about my loafers (which are quite cute and the Row). Or my J. Crew men's cotton sweater (that I stole from him—men have the best clothes) or what I thought about the banana ice cream sandwich (that I also stole from him). Literally anything but that! 

My heart bounced. 

It never gets old to hear someone say they love my newsletter, and yet that night, it hit so right. It was the end of the summer after a long hiatus, and I struggled to return to DOUBLE TAKE. I needed a jump start, and her timing was spot on. Like everything that's meant to find you, she found me. 

I paused, then thanked her profusely, 'I'm really so touched.' 

'Of course! All my friends read it, too. Happy we met–gotta run!' With that, Renee, an angel, turned on her heels back to her family. 

'Have a good night!' I shouted after her. 

Flooded with gratitude, I was beaming. 

The following day, back in the city, I ran into another friend at Forward Space (if you're in the city, it's the best workout and female founded—definitely GO!) who asked me when she could expect my next article. Then a DM came through, and another. Plus, a mom from my daughter's school stopped me after a game to say she sent DOUBLE TAKE to a friend who’s dating at 42 post-divorce—while elated to hear, I also cringed knowing I'd been absent. Even this morning, as I wavered about posting this article another glowing gal pulled me aside at Forward Space to introduce herself. She thanked me for writing DOUBLE TAKE noting how helpful it's been in dating. She was also happy to report that after a series of bad guys, she was finally dating a great one. Naturally, I was over the moon for her.

OK. OK. Universe, I hear you. 

But here's the deal—initially I took a week off from writing in July. Then, the next and the next, and before I knew it, I'd taken the entire summer off. And to be honest,  it felt so good. As much as I love writing these articles, they're a passion project and take a lot of time, something I severely lacked the past few months. Not to mention the emotional energy that comes with writing at a profoundly intimate level. So, instead of writing articles, I put the time to use in other ways, and summer went a little something like this: I worked on another exciting project with two girlfriends (there's only so much time for personal projects with work, kids, etc.); climbed a mountain in Italy and a couple closer to home (I'm now a hiker—who knew??); went to Iceland and was evacuated from our hotel due to an erupting volcano (yes, you read that right);  learned to bake banana bread (some serious domestic goddess shit);  and most importantly, moved into a new apartment in a new neighborhood, combined my family with his, and pulled up my big-girl parenting pants and seriously leaned into motherhood.  Like I said. . .a lot. 

Plus, I actively stopped posting as much on Instagram, aside from a few blurry images here and there that inspire me or speak to a vibe. A midsummer tragedy on the periphery of my friend group made me deeply question why we all share our lives so intimately. And, what's worse, we tend to only share the shiny stuff, which can serve little positive purpose and, in its worst incarnation, is toxic. I'm not saying I'm off the gram entirely, but I've certainly toned it down and am going into it selectively and with a mega filter.

Anyhow, I digress.  

The point is that I was "doing me" for the last couple of months, part of which meant keeping to myself. But I've since taken the little nudges from the Universe and decided to return to this space. Though, at times, writing here can feel like shouting into the Substack abyss until I have moments like the woman walking across the restaurant to meet me, the one who introduced herself this morning at dance class, or even the guy friend who declares he reads every article. Thank you for stopping me in the streets and after workouts. Thank you for the likes, comments, emails, DMS, and texts. Knowing you are there and that quite possibly, something I say will foster a seed or a kernel or spark something in you, or vice versa, in me, is enough to make it all worth it—so don't be a stranger, please. 

*

But I’ll say, the time off got me thinking: What do I want to talk about here? Love—love at every stage of life (from finding it to appreciating it when you have it) and all the bizarre that comes with it. And even what we wear when falling in love. Plus books, too (I love books), and why we should never stop having fun even while adulting. 

Speaking of books, I recently read The Idea of You (gentleman, this one is probably less for you, but ladies, read the book and watch the movie — it's not brain surgery, but it's light and fun and sad and sexy. It's excellent.). Anyhow, the premise of the book and the film is a beautiful 40-year-old woman dating a 21-year-old guy in a boy band who's famous. And man, does he love her and she loves him, but ultimately, the book questions everything about love, circumstance, and timing and how, unfortunately,/fortunately, the three must work in unison.

This takes me back to the idea that whatever is meant to find you will, but only when it's meant to. Potentially reassuring or possibly annoying? I’d say both. Especially when desire is at its highest and every step of time can feel like it stretches into eternity. Yet, with everything we desire, be it love, home, friendship, success, purpose, or your next big break, there's a prize period on the arc where you find yourself trusting in the journey to get there. However, in the moment, the arc has a sense of foreverness, whether real or not, that can make it seem unbearable until you make it to the other side. 

There's a poeticism here. When the discomfort of uncertainty becomes the bedrock of the next stage: I'm never going to meet someone - until you do; she's not going to call - until she does; he's never going to say I love you - and then he says it; I'm never going to get the promotion or call back -  until you do. And for every time it happens, the anxiety gives way to relief, which forms the foundation for the next cycle, on steadier ground.  

But the journey is mischievous in getting you where you need to be. 

Recently, I sat at a bar with a girlfriend whom I'd not seen all summer. She announced she was dating a great guy. Excited for her, I demanded she tell me the whole story.

'In August, I met this woman—a friend of a friend—at a cocktail party,' she began. 'The following day, she cold DM'd me and insisted she set me up with this guy. She also mentioned that she has a 9 out of 10 success rate for setups and that I should trust her.' 

Now, this is where the Universe gets weird. As my friend continued her story, I asked who the fledgling matchmaker was, and before she answered, I already knew. I pulled out my phone, scrolled back through our text messages, and found a screenshot of the guy she's dating from over a year ago—I'd already tried to set them up after meeting the same friend/matchmaker the year before! For whatever reason (i.e., not the right time), the date never happened because sometimes the first orbit is not the one. I know this to be true in my case, too. 

Some six months later, my friend and the guy matched on Raya, but again, nothing came of it. Finally, a month ago, they went out on their first date. This is his third orbit. 

*

A few days ago, in bed, my guy read this quote aloud to me by Lewis Howes (@lewishowes) called The Invisible String Theory: 

The Universe will keep two people apart until the timing is right. When you meet, there will be so many 'coincidences' in the timing.  If one thing had fallen out of line, you would never have crossed paths. But the Universe aligns, and you will realize that everything you went through before you met was just preparing your heart for them.

This applies generally; for "them" or "it," life is about timing. It's all about the next thing leading you to the next and remaining open to the possibility of what's to come, be it love or success or whatever your heart desires. I can't stop thinking about how timing, for all my resistance to its existence, is everything. 

And how, finally, having a home—our home—with the joy and chaos of three kids, a dog, and a man who has grounded me and given me wings (and a sweater or 3) has allowed me to cross over the arc. It's offered me the relief and wisdom in knowing that everything happens for you, not to you, and the space and time to begin writing here once more. 

So, hi. Hi again. 

And to Renee, thank you for capping off a fantastic summer.