We texted about it.
Masks or no masks in the car?
I’d told him I’d danced outside with a few friends for my birthday just the day before. Told him we’d all been masked. Just wanted to be transparent, I’d said.
He seemed unconcerned.
“No, we’re good,” he’d responded.
“Ok,” I thought to myself.
So, I did my inner intuitive evaluation – assessed what he’d told me about his life in the short time I’d known him. Seemed like he didn’t see many people, he works alone and the only people he spends time with regularly are his sons.
I could feel the loosening of my rules to take the risk and get in his car unmasked.
He’d planned a surprise for our second date. (kudos from my inner teenager).
Had asked me if I’m adventurous.
“As long as it’s not something life threatening, like bunji jumping or parachuting out of a plane, I’m good to go,” I said.
So, when he picked me up in his sleek black car, I jauntily got in, unmasked, ready for some fun. We bantered back and forth, flirtatious energy electrified the air. He got on the freeway, and in Spokane that means you’re going somewhere out of town.
“Are we going to Idaho?” I asked.
He smiled.
This was my only-ever second date in the last six months since I’d dipped my toe into online dating. The few walking dates I’d gone on had been ho-hummers. No, this felt different. Like there was possibility here.
When we reached our destination, I was completely clueless as to what we were doing. It was an unremarkable huge building with no signs. When we stepped through the door I discovered we’d landed at a dirt race car driving track.
In Idaho.
No one wore a mask.
I felt myself contract.
I didn’t want to touch anything.
Helmets lined the counter. I wondered if they were sanitized in between clients. I wondered if the people who worked there washed their hands often.
I felt like I was traveling in a foreign country and that I didn’t know the rules and it didn’t feel safe.
My “nice girl” kicked in right away to cover. She walked me through protocol: “You’re here now. There’s nothing you can do. Make the most of it.” And with that, I went full tilt into denial.
I doubled down on fun, because after all, I “couldn’t do anything about this, and I didn’t want to disappoint the man I’d just had one walking date with and didn’t know from Adam.”
When the man behind the counter gave me something resembling a black ski mask to pull over my head before putting on the helmet, I thought, “seriously? This is going to kill the hair,” which I verbalized to my date and told him, “Your loss. You’re going to have to look at me.”
But once in the little race car, and once I got the feel of it after a few rounds, I went into full on competitive mode. “I’m going to KICK YOUR ASS in this race,” I thought. And I DID!
My denial allowed for fun. Which I needed for the second part of the date when we drove to an Idaho restaurant where no one wore masks either. It was like stepping back in time.
My date and I chatted over grilled fish and vegetables, neither one of us having ordered wine. I could tell he’d really tried to create a fun, interesting, unique date. And he did. We had a good time.
So, when he drove me home, we sat in the car talking for another twenty minutes or so and I was grateful for his efforts. Though I was still aware of the niggling feeling that I hadn’t spoken up, hadn’t voiced my concerns of discomfort. I was disappointed in myself that I regressed to the young woman who doesn’t want to “rock the boat” even if it might cause her harm in the end.
We closed the night with a hug and the hope of a third date.
Then he called a few days later to tell me his son was positive for CoVID. He told me he would be getting tested. A day later, I was symptomatic.
Two days later I tested positive for CoVID.
