A Romance Which Wasn't

Opportunities not taken can cause the bitterest of regrets. Without meaning to brag, I myself have BEEN someone else's opportunity, which she failed to take, to her own regret. I shall arbitrarily call her "Doris."

I first met Doris during one of my periods of singleness. I was in my fifties then, while she was something like thirty-five. The age difference was great enough that neither of us initially thought of the other in romantic terms; but we became friendly enough in the course of certain innocent activities that we shared.

After four or five weeks of association in the shared activity, Doris and I saw nothing of each other for about an equal span of time. Then one Saturday morning, Doris announced on Facebook that she was feeling gloomy and lonely. So I messaged her to say, "Would it cheer you up if I came over and took you out to a movie?" I wasn't thinking of it as a "date," since 95 percent of all peer-females I'd ever met had instantly and permanently sentenced me without trial to the Friendzone Gulag; but I figured that Doris and I could have a chums-pals-buddies good time.

We attended a matinee, her choice of a movie. She chose a science-fiction movie, which earned her brownie points with me. During the movie, her right hand happened to touch my left hand. No, there WAS NOT the tediously-overused "electric spark" which amateurish romance novelists endlessly insert into scenes. What there was, was coldness: not emotional coldness, but the literal coldness of someone with poor blood circulation in her hands. So I offered to warm Doris' hands in mine. Doris herself up to this point had not behaved in any sort of come-hither fashion toward me; but she was glad for the relief I gave to her genuine discomfort of cold hands.

And she willingly leaned into me until it became natural for me to slide an arm around her.

We did not kiss, but we did stay snuggled together pleasantly for the rest of the movie. It was on my mind that here was a woman with whom I had interests in common, and a woman who seemed to LIKE me genuinely. So we did not part company hastily. From the cinema, we went to walk around a popular scenic location-- one which, as it happened, I had formerly visited with my Mary before she passed away, and with my Janalee before SHE passed away. Walking here now, I held hands with Doris, and she was fine with that too. Some bypassers clearly assumed us to be a couple. After our leisurely stroll, I treated her to dinner at a good restaurant.

When I took her home, I wasn't expecting this to turn into anything romantic; but Doris, despite her behavior at the movie, POINTEDLY MADE SURE not to act romantic at all. In fact, she stated out of the blue that she couldn't see having a relationship with a man as much older than she as I was. Because I hadn't been expecting any romance anyway, I was fine with her conclusion. I hugged her lightly, which was okay with her, and I drove back to Aurora. All was well, no harm had been done, it had simply been an enjoyable day for us both. As Emperor of the Friendzone, I had passed other days in a similar way with other staying-at-arm's-length female acquaintances.

In case anyone figures out who "Doris" is, let me say that I feel free to describe our semi-date because Doris DID NOT DO ANYTHING WRONG. There's no disgrace in going to a movie as friends and afterwards parting company as friends. But there was to be a poignant sequel to that pleasant Saturday in Colorado.

Time passed. I met, and fell for, the woman who was to become my third wife, and who was later to become my only living EX-wife when she decided that she didn't want to be married after all. But at the time I now refer to, "Number Three" did have some feelings for me. A day came when I announced on Facebook that I had found my new love; that I had a new fiancee.

Here's the poignant part. Seeing my status post, Doris -- whom I had not seen in person since that pleasant Saturday -- posted a comment: "I wish it was me!"

Say what?? Doris, you had every opportunity to have encouraged romantic interest back then! But you deliberately locked and barred that door, and NOW you regret having done so? Again, I'm not saying that Doris did anything BAD; but it's wistful and sorrowful to think of her only realizing too late that she would have enjoyed being married to me. It's been a long time since I last saw her in person. And life goes on, from task to task.

Human relationships in this downfallen world are such a minefield! The expression "damned if you do, and damned if you don't" comes to mind. As we search in the dark for love and connection, we may have cause to regret starting a given relationship, OR to regret not starting one. Some of my fellow Christians will glibly say, "God is offering exact guidance for all details at all times, so if any step in your journey is unclear, it's ALL YOUR FAULT for not listening to Him." In reality, however, God DOES NOT invariably tell us in advance what our next move should be; often, it suits Him to let us see some stage in His design only after we've already waded through it.

This being so, disappointments and missed opportunities are sure to befall us in Earthly life. Therefore, all of us need to work at being compassionate toward each other, when we see others bearing the pain of regret.