They say your 30s are better than your 20s for countless reasons: better sense of identity, more financial stability, less defined by ego-filled standards. For me, I was completely satisfied in every aspect of my life except romance.
I met Dave, a handsome 37-year-old with gray hair and a red beard that contrasted with the rest of his body, at the Toluca Lake CrossFit gym where we both belong. He was a white, fit, recently divorced man with children.
I was a semi-fit, 30-year-old, first-generation Latina who had never been proposed to. It was like a tale of two cities, so to speak.
I instantly thought Dave was attractive, but pursuing him meant facing my fears; In a past life, I was the anxiously attached girlfriend who was always worried about male-female interactions and those extreme fictional scenarios that led to self-destruction.
I kept thinking, “Me? Dating a divorced man with kids and risking being judged by society for dating him? I couldn’t stand it. Worse, his ex-wife was still a member of the gym.
Of all the CrossFit gyms in Los Angeles, I just had to walk into yours.
I had small conversations with Dave from time to time, but the taboo continued to close off the possibility of an “us.” After a year of being together, divine intervention pierced us better than Cupid's arrow and brought us together.
It is widely known in the CrossFit community that on Memorial Day weekend we all commit to honoring fallen service members by challenging ourselves to complete the Murph Hero workout. It's a one-mile run with 100 pull-up reps, 200 push-up reps, 300 squat reps, topped off with another one-mile run. Usually, they have barbecues and beers afterwards. I did the 8 am class; Dave took the 9am class. We stayed to eat hot dogs but found good company.
In my attempt to flirt with him I asked him, “How does it feel to be the fittest guy in the gym?”
He responded, “Do you want the real answer or the short answer?” He was bold, a little provocative, but simple enough to open the doors and let each other in.
The connection after the workout may have arisen from the intensity of testing our physical limits or perhaps from the delirium of not knowing what had happened. Or maybe it was just an “excitement transfer.” No matter what it was, after we started talking, we never stopped.
His undeniable intelligence complemented my sharp wit. I knew this connection was something different. The gravitational pull between us could have kept a small moon in orbit.
After moving from barbecue to bars with friends, he invited me on our first official date, marking the beginning of summer. At Laurel Tavern in Studio City, where I’m sure many first dates begin, Dave and I traded laughs and stories on a majestic June evening as friends gathered for happy hour and families celebrated their loved ones’ college graduations. The drinks flowed and we—two acquaintances—soon became love interests who went on second and third dates.
Even though our heads were in the clouds, everything quickly fell apart. Dave was leaving Los Angeles for a planned trip to Europe with his ex and their children. As Dickens said: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”
My greatest fears began to unfold as I crept back to the only defense mechanism I had ever known. But Dave were not the men of my past. He was something much bigger.
When my friends asked me why I would date a guy who had already been married, I didn't think twice. It was no wonder Dave's previous life was completely different from mine.
I could see him as he was. After all, he's the kind of guy who would be the first person to make you feel welcome if you walked into a CrossFit gym for the first time. He is the type of man who goes to Europe with his children and his mother because it is the children's first time going and he doesn't want to miss it. And if he has a commitment like that, he calls you every night regardless of the time zone or country he is in. He also remembers to bring you a souvenir.
There was nothing I could do to change his past, but I was in control of how we approached our future, especially when he made an effort to build trust. It was that simple thought that comforted me. Suddenly, the new chapter in Dave's life was one in which I became a new character.
When he returned from Europe on the 4th of July, our gravitational energy brought us back together and our story as Dave and Jillian began. We teamed up and toured Los Angeles, grabbed drinks at Casita in Sherman Oaks, or went for a morning bike ride through Griffith Park. We navigated their life as co-parents while avoiding awkward situations at the gym. We continue to enjoy the 7:30 am class together, the class where we met. Then in October, we became an official couple. Those intrusive thoughts were nothing more than an emotional scar that was beginning to heal.
Dave and I met at the right time in our lives. It's true that we both like to say that everything in our past was a preparation for us to meet. Now, almost a year later, I can't imagine a life without him. Something tells me my 30s will be fine.
The author is a publicist for a sports and live entertainment company in Los Angeles. She loves cooking and writing, but only when she feels like it. She's on Instagram: @jilliansalas12
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