'Are we dating?' After 30 years, I found out how little the world of romance has changed

I'd spent ii decades living in a suburban cottage, shopping at Costco and rearing a fellowship when my married woman passed away, leaving me a widower in my late 50s. Over time, I'd embraced this new stage of my life, moving to a modest downtown apartment. I didn't feel lonely or alone, just solo.

Little did I know that I would soon find myself wading into murky waters of dating — something I hadn't done in 30 years.

Walking around an urban park one afternoon, I saw her approach from the opposite direction. It had been 25 years since we worked together, but I recognized her immediately by her distinctive red hair. Bracing for the inevitable questions about how I was doing and how my wife was, I cut the chit-chat short and suggested we meet another time to catch up.

At a coffee shop, it all came out: she was no longer married, and didn't know I had been widowed.

We sat there for a longer time than I expected, just talking. Past times spent together came to my mind, and I found myself appreciating her good nature, thoughtful insights and open confidence in a fresh way. We discovered we lived close to each other and walked that urban park regularly. So, we agreed to meet for some light exercise together.

We fell into a routine, meeting up on weekends with a simple text: "Same time, same place?"

Neither of us made special effort on our appearance; she wore no makeup, I didn't shave. Two unfortunate souls, an unlikely pair, happy to be getting out and having someone to share stories and confide in.

Then, one evening, she messaged me: "Did you ever want to go for a drink or dinner?"

Wait? What? Did she ask me out? Are we transitioning beyond "walks"?

I wasn't sure but it seemed natural. I liked it.

We met at a nearby restaurant, had a nice meal and had a long, easy conversation.

At the restaurant door, we stopped and paused. What's the end-of-evening protocol for us "old people" in our 50s? Do we give each other a one-arm hug? Shake hands? Bow? I didn't know, so I said, "Good night" and we went our separate ways.

It felt like it was my turn to put myself out there, so I asked her to accompany me to a theatre play. This seemed novel — not new, but unfamiliar territory I'd been away from for many years.

When I picked her up, she was well dressed and looked beautiful. During intermission, I introduced her to an acquaintance, as my "friend." After, during the drop off, I asked, "I hope you had a good time?"

She agreed, stepped out the car door and I drove away.

That sure felt like a date. It was not too awkward, but it felt unfinished.

After so long of thinking I was fine being alone, I realized I wanted more — not that we would park and fog up the windows, but that we would be more than just companions.

For sure, if I invite her to my apartment for dinner, on a Saturday night, it's a date, right? I wasn't sure. What does dating involve these days? Now I was nervous. Seeing my place, she could assess my social standing, level of hygiene and personal style. My cooking skills are not great. Surely, she wouldn't break up with me, before we even started dating, over a meal?

My anxieties were for nothing. The food was fine, the lights were kept on, we sat a polite distance apart and the conversation flowed until the evening was over.

But was it a date? I should have been more obvious and lit candles.

It had been 30 years since I'd last dated and while I had fewer entanglements of money, health and family to introduce to this relationship, I found dating to be just as nerve-wracking. I felt vulnerable venturing into the unknown.

Just a couple of days after that date-not-date, I found myself sitting on the couch and thinking of her, wanting to reach out and make contact. I sent her a message about the canned drinks that I'd had served on Saturday night.

"Hi, I just tried one of those hard seltzers. Sorry they don't taste very good."

A long time passed and no response. Suddenly, it dawned on me that the message was a bit random and may give the impression I'm "Tuesday drinking."

Thankfully, she eventually replied: "Sorry, I'm just finishing my class, ready to walk home. I thought the drink was OK."

The exercise studio is across from my apartment, so I offered to drive her home.

This was clearly not a date, just a warm ride home on a cold day. However, with one swift and efficient motion, she caught me off guard, leaned in across the centre console and kissed me on the lips.

"Thanks for the ride," she said. "See you Friday."

It was hard to tell what had just happened. Did my heart skip a beat or had my eyes just popped wide open? As I pulled away from the curb, I felt a happy calm roll over me. It was the moment where our walks, plays, dinners and everything changed. At my advanced age, after many years, one kiss gave me a reason to believe romance could be a part of my life again.

The answer to my question? Yes, we're dating.

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Freelance contributor

Pat Parrott lives in Regina and writes as a hobby. He has two sons, both in their early 20s. He wrote this piece as a way to share his experience and discuss dating.

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