How to Talk to a Widower

Gary didn’t cheat on me, at least, that’s his story and he’s sticking to it, although he did get into another relationship pretty darn quick if you ask me. All of my friends think it was going on before we got divorced, but you know what? I’m so beyond that now. If it was, more power to him. We were done so long before that. I think after we had Jason, that’s my baby, he’s seven now … What? I know. No one can believe I have a kid. It’s called sit-ups, although I think I’m just a genetically thin person. My mother was very thin, and I have her body, except that I have boobs, thank God. She’s completely flat. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, after we had Jason, Gary and I just went in different directions. We just wanted different things, you know? He wanted to keep having kids and just, you know, stay home and become middle-aged, and I wanted to be out there living again—oh, great, thanks. It looks delicious. Is that the fat-free balsamic dressing? Perfect.—So, what was I talking about? I’m talking too much. Let’s talk about you a little. I love that column you write. I’m always in awe of people who can write. I get blocked writing thank-you notes after Jason’s birthday parties. Did you always want to be a writer? … What did your wife do, if you don’t mind my asking? Crap! I did it again. I swore to God I wouldn’t mention her if you didn’t, there’s nothing worse than spending a first date talking about each other’s first marriages. I guess it’s just that you’re the first widower I’ve dated, so it’s a whole different dynamic. You don’t have all this baggage that we divorced people come with, you know? … Oh, I’m sure there’s baggage to go along with that too, I mean, everyone’s got baggage, right? But there’s just something about a guy who’s been married before and isn’t filled with hate and anger … Really. At whom, God? … Oh! Really? I don’t think I know any atheists. I mean, I could certainly understand it, after what you’ve been through … Look, I have my doubts like everyone else, but I just find it impossible to believe that he isn’t there in some form, you know, that everything doesn’t happen for a reason. I mean, I have to believe that, or else it’s all just chaos. I’m not a fan of organized religion, I mean, I went to Catholic school, but that was just because my parents thought I’d get a better education there. To me it’s all the same, really. Jesus, God, Allah, Buddha, whatever. Somebody’s got to be driving the spaceship, that’s all. Otherwise what’s the whole point? … Yeah, I suppose there doesn’t have to be a point, but I’m much happier believing there is one. Wow. Religion, exes, we’re breaking all the first-date rules, aren’t we? I hope I’m not coming off like a complete asshole. I’m really not, it’s just hard when you sit with someone you don’t know at all, you know? … Thanks. And you’re much cuter than I expected, although you do have the benefit of comparison to a lot of really bad dates. So tell me, am I the first real date you’ve had since, you know, your wife passed away? Really? Oh my God. I don’t feel too much pressure now! Kidding. I’m kidding. Still, I do feel somewhat responsible to make sure you have a positive experience. I mean, you never forget your first date, right? The first guy I dated after I got divorced was this guy Charlie I knew from the gym and it was an absolute disaster. He spent the whole night giving me a detailed account of his entire sexual history, from the first time he masturbated to the girl he’d slept with the week before, and then he was actually shocked when I didn’t want to sleep with him. And now I’m your first date. What will you say about me? … What? Ha ha! You’re really very funny, you know that?—Oh, no dessert for me, thanks. I’m fine. But you feel free to get some for yourself.
    “That was nice, thanks. Oh, I love this song, can you turn it up? I love Beyoncé. It’s left over here, on Blackstone. Right. I mean, correct, not a right turn. And this is it. Thanks. I know it’s big for just the two of us, but I’m really attached to it. Also, if I sell it I have to give half to Gary, and I’m sure as hell not going to pay for his fiancée’s new Mercedes … Hey, would you like to come in for a while? Jason is at Gary’s this weekend … Listen, I like you, Doug. You’re sweet and handsome, and I can already tell