May: Plenty of Fish

© Jane Harvey-Berrick

I was 16 when I broke up with Nathan. Mom said, “Don’t worry, pumpkin. There’s plenty more fish in the sea.”

I went on a few dates over the next few years, but enjoyed partying with my friends more.

When I was 19 and a freshman in college, I fell in love and Daniel broke my heart. I’d thought he was the one. At Spring break when I should have been in Palm Beach with my friends, I went home to lick my wounds. Dad stomped around muttering darkly about, “Staking out the next one in the front yard as a warning to the others.”

Mom held me while I cried, and said, “Don’t worry, Carrie. There’s plenty more fish in the sea.”

And so it went over the next two decades. I dated, I raised my hopes, drowned in disappointment, had all hope crushed, shook myself off and tried again.

The emotional rollercoaster was draining, and frankly those non-starter dates were getting old. Mom still insisted that I should keep on looking, keep on fishing.

But, having now reached the grand age of 39 (and 11 months), I’ve gotta say, those oceans are looking pretty fished out.

I was also okay with that. I had a good job as manager of a sweet little hotel in Crescent City, a less traveled part of northern California just 20 miles from the Oregon border; I had my horse, Suki, who loved to canter across the beach as the sun set behind Castle Rock; and I had my lurcher, Magnum, lolloping along beside us. I had good friends, dined out whenever I wanted (or had the time), and learned to sail, surf and scuba dive.

My younger sister was married with kids, so I was godmother to two rambunctious toddlers. I absolutely adored them – and could hand them back to their loving parents at the end of the day.

It was good. More than good. I had a great life.

But still, it would have been nice to have a special someone to share it with.

My boss, Mr Grosvenor, was a sweet old guy, but he’d simply lost interest in the business after his wife died, so whenever I went to him with plans to update the facilities, redecorate, or install WiFi, he wasn’t interested. Consequently, Crescent Cove Hotel wasn’t as upscale as other places, and it seemed to have settled into a happy rut of catering for older couples. Which made it unlikely that I’d meet anyone my age there.

Over the years, I’d tried a variety of dating sites and had endured the hell that is the blind date: or, as I came to think of it, I’d-have-to-be-blind-drunk-to-date-you.

Some dates were so awful it’s funny to think about them now – not so funny at the time.

There was the guy who was an entomologist, which is fine, but he brought his collection of bugs and slime to the dinner table, thinking that was an appropriate way to introduce himself.

Barf bucket, quick!

There was the cop who ticketed me for ‘following too close’ – which, okay, tailgaters belong in the seventh circle of hell, but we’d met at a coffee shop and decided to have lunch together, so I  was following him to a diner. Yeah, he actually ticketed me and then thought we could share the ribs.

Just, no.

There was the guy who said he was looking for a relationship but sent dick pics to five other women – which I only found out because one of them was a friend of mine.

Hell, no.

And then there’s the list of guys I just didn’t click with, a completely spark-free zone.

I’d had first dates with guys who seemed afraid to open their wallets in case the moths flew out; guys who seemed afraid of their mothers … and the never to be forgotten date where a guy actually brought his mom with him.

Check, please!

I’d had dates where the guy was rude/drunk/obnoxious/boring (or all of these at the same time), and several where the guy was so sure that any woman would be grateful just to be in his presence that they didn’t even try to woo me before expecting me to jump into bed with them.

There was no woo and definitely no woohoo.

So, the only reason I tried one last dating site in the weeks leading up to my fortieth birthday was because it was called Plenty of Fish. If that wasn’t an omen, I don’t know what is.

But I was busy, so although I’d started to set up a profile, I just didn’t seem to get around to finishing it.

One night, I was driving home from work after midnight. I’d organised a 60^th wedding anniversary for a local couple and it had been a great party with their friends and family, children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I figured the hotel wouldn’t be seeing too many of those in the future: how many twenty-somethings get married then stay married for the next sixty years?

The weather in NoCal could be unpredictable in May: warm and sunny, cool and foggy, or everything in between. Today had threatened rain, with a storm coming in over night, which meant that we couldn’t have a marquee in the garden.

As the party was ending, towering clouds gathered in the west, snuffing out the last rays of the sun and threatening a tremendous downpour. Out to sea, I could see flashes of lightning, but the ominous rumble of thunder would only arrive when the storm hit land. I wanted to be home before that happened.

But the storm was coming in fast and the sky was lit with a dazzling display of forked lightning, bathing the road and trees in an eerie blue-white light.

I drove faster, wanting to be home before the storm caught me and unleashed the full force of nature on my small Toyota. A few drops of rain splattered across the windscreen as I neared my house, but in the seconds seven where I had to run from the car to my front door, I was soaked.

I all but fell into the house, laughing as I wrung water from my long hair. I looked around, expecting Magnum to come and wind himself around me like a cat. But then I saw a note on my kitchen table from my next-door neighbour.

Not sure when you’d be home, so took Magnum with me in case the thunder scares him!

That was sweet of her – Magnum looked fierce, but he was a complete softy and hated loud noise.

Right on cue, thunder boomed, so loud, I swear the windows rattled, and lightning display zipped across the black clouds. I was mesmerised, watching the greatest lightshow that Mother Nature ever created.

Absolutely stupendous. A once in a lifetime storm of fire and wind.

And I realized that I had no one to share it with.

On impulse, I picked up my phone, and opened the Plenty of Fish app and finished writing the description that went with my profile photo of me with my fur babies.

I love watching the sunsets over Castle Rock while I ride my horse, Suki, my lurcher, Magnum at my side.

I love dining out with friends, or eating in with pizza and an action movie.

I listen to audiobooks while I drive to work, or podcasts about things I don’t know anything about.

I love swimming in the ocean, and recently learned to scuba dive.

I have a great life with great friends, and right now, I’m watching the most amazing lightning storm.

If you’re watching the storm too, and think it’s as incredible as I do, maybe you can share this wonderful world with me and make life even better.

Another crash of thunder rocked the house. Instead of feeling scared, I felt energised and alive. I was so intent on watching the storm, that I almost missed the notification that popped up. I stared at it in surprise.

Hey, Carrie!

I’m watching the storm, too. It’s sensational! My Jack Russell, Oakley, is less keen and is hiding under my bed with his paws over his ears. (Not really, but he is under the bed and won’t come out.)

I love walking in the forests and never get tired of being in awe of our native redwoods.

I’ve never ridden a horse but used to watch cowboy movies with my grandad when I was a kid. Does that count? (Actually, that’s a lie – I still watch cowboy movies. I saw ‘Cowboys & Aliens’ last weekend.)

I love reading thrillers and haven’t really gotten into audiobooks.

I listen to the TED talks because I never get bored of learning new things.

I work in IT but try not to conform to geek tropes (although I have been known to quote ‘The Big Bang Theory’ after a couple of beers).

I love star-gazing and taking my kayak out on the river.

I can name all the constellations I can see from my apartment, but I love going out to hear new old-school bands, too.

I love swimming in the ocean and building crazy big sandcastles, because although I’m 42 and have a grownup job, I’m also a big kid at heart.

You sound great, so you’re probably out of my league, but if you’re still at the window watching this storm with me, I think we could have a lot in common.

We could be pretty great.

I hope you message me back.

Ryan

Intrigued, enthralled, and a little bit in love with the guy already. But he couldn’t possibly be as great as he sounded, my finger hovered over the ‘reply’ button. And then I hesitated: why was I putting myself through this again? It would only end in disillusionment. I had a good life, a great life, and I didn’t need anyone else. I wasn’t even sure I had time for anyone else.

But ‘need’ and ‘want’ are two different things, and I guess at heart, I’m an optimist, because I took a chance. I took a chance and messaged him back.

Hey, Ryan,

I’m still watching the storm…

THE END

(or possibly THE BEGINNING)