the date I almost didn't go on 10 years ago

the story of how I met my husband--from both of our perspectives

Welcome to this tiny corner of the internet where an off-duty psychotherapist keeps the conversation going on how to make sense of this life thing we’re all doing. If you ever wondered what your therapist does off the clock—which, who among us hasn’t?—this is like that. Think of it as the adult equivalent of seeing your elementary school teacher at the grocery store picking out lemons. 🍋 I typically oscillate between long-form psychoeducation pieces and narrative essays—sometimes I smush them together. I also do a biweekly podcast with my husband, roundups and a segment of brisk thoughts on music, TV, and film. Today, a little love-fest.

One thing before we jump in, I show up very much as myself here. Myself first, and all my other labels are secondary. If a therapist speaking candidly feels like too much to your system, that is absolutely is OK and this may not be the best particular newsletter for you.

“How did you meet?” 

A question most couples are used to fielding. At dinner parties, meeting new friends, introducing family to a new partner. It’s inevitable. A question hanging in the air. As it was said in the opening of Armageddon, a film I’ve seen possibly 100 times due to an unchecked Bruce Willis obsession I had in my youth, “It happened before….it will happen again…it’s only a question of when.”

In my brief stint seeing couples as a psychotherapist, this was a question I always asked in the first session.

I was taught how the couple answered that question was supposed to signal something. I wasn’t listening for how spectacular/elaborate/fancy the date was. No, what I was looking for was tone and body language. The shift from what brought them to my office to what had come before. Was that twinkle in the eye still there as they reminisced on their meet cute? 

I honestly don’t know if that really holds all the answers, but I do know I love that question. That we believe in romance at all is beautifully hopeful to me. It’s probably the therapist in me that feels so drawn to knowing the beginning. You can’t know where you’re going unless you know where you’ve been and all that. We love an origin story, right? 

When I hear these stories, it often has me time traveling back to my first date with my husband. 

July 24th, 2014 (Chicago, IL)

Less than six months out from a horrible relationship, pretty tender from the emotional slingshotting of said relationship and all the rebound dating that followed, we find our protagonist.

She’s tired. Over it. Also, desperately wanting to feel loved again so she can know it’s possible. Also, maybe it could wipe her memory of the last year.

Can love do that?

She wanted to find out. 

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I was feeling pretty disillusioned with dating by the summer of 2014. Around this time, I wrote in my journal the thought of going through the process of someone getting to know me felt exhausting to even consider. For some reason, how I liked my s’mores was a specific tidbit I didn’t want to regale one more person with (burnt to a crisp, thank you). I had grown tired of the script.

“I’m Kaitlyn. I’m from the Midwest. I have one sister. I’m a psychotherapist. I live with my best friend and her cat, Pearl. My last relationship ended because ‘X.’” 

Even though it was my story, I was sick of telling it. Talking about myself felt like the last thing I wanted to do (I see the hypocrisy, don’t worry).

Did I mention we met through a dating app? OKCupid. Is that still a thing? His profile was a delight. Amongst a sea of pictures of shirtless men holding fish, he had a picture of him in front of the Motown Museum dressed in all black. His answers were lighthearted and somehow also sincere. 

Because of my apathy toward online dating and my scar tissue covered heart, my expectations had loosened. I was open to anything other than what I’d just experienced. Could be serious, could be casual, but it had to be something kind. 

My faith in that prospect was dwindling. I almost canceled. I consulted with my aforementioned roommate about this impulse. She was curious why I wanted to cancel. I recounted all of the above fatigue and hopelessness. Then, she asked why I wanted to go in the first place.

Well…

He was witty and, lets’ be real, handsome. The place we were meeting was a spot I’d never been to, less than five blocks from my apartment. While there was something wanting me to stay home, there was also something telling me, “Just go. Stay open. At the very least, you’ll laugh.”

Ultimately, it was hard to argue with a guaranteed laugh and minimal commute. So, off I went.

I walked in and scanned the room for a seat assuming he wouldn’t be there yet. He had texted to let me know he was running late—asking if we could meet a little bit later than we had planned.¹ But, there he was. Sitting on a barstool facing me. Smiling. 

I’d learned by then, you never know from someone’s online profile what they are going to be like. Not just physically, but energetically. 

He exuded warmth and confidence. So self-assured. This lent itself to a back and forth that was seamless and spacious.

I don’t remember much of what we talked about other than a very touching story about his dog who had recently died. In a way that only he can, he weaved his sentimentality in with a disturbing and funny detail that had me covering my face as my head shot back in horrified laughter. A motion I’d come to know well in the ten years that followed this night.

At the time I went on this date, I was in my third year of working at a nonprofit, providing counseling to families involved in the foster care system. The work itself was inherently heartbreaking at times. The people you work with in moments like that really matter. The bonding was fast and furious. We’d find ourselves, over our lunch break, swapping relationship stories. All squeezed into one office, scattered across the floor. We laughed, we cried, we gasped.

I had started to notice a theme with one of my friend’s stories. She often got asked on a second date while the first one was ongoing. This had happened to me 0.0 times. I latched onto this as some sort of sign. A level of vulnerability and interest I longed to feel from someone—particularly a person I also felt that way toward.

And there I was, an hour into our date, laughing (if you know me IRL, you know this is more of a cackle) and smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. He leans over the bar and looks up at me and says the words I’d been waiting for, “This is going really well, right? I’d love to do this again soon!” 

The date was nowhere near over but it was almost like he couldn’t help himself. Thankfully, not only was this very flattering, it also mirrored what I was feeling.

The thing I’ve always said about this first date is I stopped talking about myself and I starting being myself. 

He walked me home and, as he always like to say, he left me wanting more. Which, I can admit, is true. I don’t know if I’d ever beamed before, but I had the distinct feeling I was that evening. I wasn’t ready for that to end.

While I don’t remember every detail, I can recall more about that night than I can most evenings since. I remember how I felt.

Isn’t it wild how that happens? Our brain signals, “This is important. You’re going to want to remember this.” And I really, really do.

That’s enough out of me. Let’s hear from the other side of this equation.

Here are a few questions I asked him about our first date:

What kind of energy were you going into that date with? Did you have a sense of what you were looking for?

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t operating in a place of being cognizant of my “energy” at that time. I was not very often in Self. That said I’ll do my best to play Monday morning QB on that.  I remember being very optimistic about you. I felt we had connected on a number of levels already even though I only knew you as a few select photographs and some written messages. You seemed like someone with whom I shared a sense of humor and a solid messager (i.e.  a level or response time that mirrored my own—not too delayed, not too immediate—and solid length of message—not novellas, but not one word responses that don’t keep the convo ball in the air)

What was your first impression?

First impression was, as our son would say, ☝🏻.  Time kind of stopped and you moved in slow motion.  Very much like that dream weaver scene in Wayne’s World.  Then you sat down and the conversation was great. I was lost in your eyes and laugh.

What were you noticing (between us/within you) that made you feel it was going well? 

You laughed a lot, leaned in, kept eye contact and the conversation going. The deal was sealed to me when you saw someone you knew and introduced me (editor’s note: I completely forgot we ran into some people I knew that night until reading this—and then to find out that part was that meaningful!)

How did you feel after the date?

Elated. I went out of town that next day for my friend’s bachelor party. I remember showing him pictures of you and telling him how much we connected and how I couldn’t wait to see you again. 

Anything else that stood out to you about that first meeting?

No…jk…having to pee a number of time and you thinking I was doing cocaine rather than just using the bathroom. You trying to woo me to come inside your house, but me, being the gentleman I am, politely declining (editor’s note: Y’all he scampered down my steps so fast. I later learned this was a sign of his desire to preserve something special but at the time I wondered if I’d scared him).

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A little over three years after that first date, we took our engagement pictures at Sportsman’s Club—the spot where this all took place—in the very same seats.

If you listen to our podcast, this first picture will be familiar.

and then this moment he couldn’t resist…

Dating is something I talk with clients about a lot. What I tend to hear is they aren’t struggling with what they think and feel about it. Their minds are congested with what other people tell them love should be like, feel like.

I know for certain, no one could have told me to expect what happened that night 10 years ago. It seems to me, determining the someone you will want to lean into, that you want to be more yourself with is less a calculation and more a mystery. One of life’s little surprises. I didn’t think I liked surprises. It turns out I love them.

Questions for you:

1. If you’re in a relationship, how did you first meet your partner(s)? Please, please share. You heard me go on and on above about how much I love this.

2. What do you think of the idea that if you can fondly remember the beginning, it may mean there is something salvageable in the relationship? I can see the risky side of this in that just because you can conjure warm memories, doesn’t mean you should stay in a relationship–and also—I know from experience that long-term monogamous relationships can be really hard and remembering where you started could help someone zoom out.

In other news, I did an interview with

Robin Cangie (she/her)

for her newsletter

Creative Letters

last week about my relationship to creativity. She had such thought provoking questions, I started crying while answering them.

Kaitlyn Elizabeth doesn't give a shit about being right

You can find more info and my full disclaimer on my about page here. Abridged version: I’m a therapist, but not your therapist—even if you are a client of mine ~hi, dear one!~ this isn’t a session. I don’t think you could possibly confuse this newsletter with mental health treatment. Alas if that were to happen, let me say definitively, dialoguing is an educational and informational newsletter only, not a substitute for mental health treatment.

Any comments, questions, suggestions, please feel free to email me at dialoguingsubstack@gmail.com—or if you’re reading this via email you can just hit reply and send me a message. Love hearing from you for any and all reasons!

Tickets for the virtual Mental Health & Motherhood Conference are on sale! Tickets begin at $25. You can get them here. If you want a taste of what it will be like, Motherhood Minute has begun to post introductions with various speakers, one with yours truly is forthcoming.

Lastly, the summer tends to be a time where things slow down for my practice. I’m excited to announce at this time I have space on my caseload for 1 or 2 coaching clients. Check out my about page (near the bottom) for more info.

1. This was apparently a move to make sure he arrived before me. Tricky, sneaky boy.