Do I want to see him again?
Do I want to see him again?
How one simple question helped me to listen to my heart.
On September 16, 2017, I posted a plea for advice on a Facebook group for young widows. “Hi friends,” I began. “I’m seven and a half months out from losing my husband of eight years. I’m also a month or so into dipping my toe into the crazy world of online dating.”
At that point, I’d gone on a couple of dates that included good conversation and decent chemistry, “but didn’t lead to anything, which was perfect.” As I told my fellow widows, “I’m looking for distraction from all the loneliness and confusion that grief brings, and some noncommittal practice with dating.”
I was writing to the group not because I needed advice with these low-stakes dates, but because I recently met someone who seemed like a more promising match. He and I had gone on a few great dates, discovered some surprising things we had in common, and talked openly about grief—something I was craving in those days. Unlike the other people I’d gone on dates with, this person seemed like he was at a similar point as I was in life, both career-wise and emotionally.
“Anyway,” I wrote, “this all seems great except I am not at the point where I'm ready to meet anyone! This wasn't in the plan! I was comfortable dating random dudes who would make for fun company or funny stories later, not someone who seems like the type of person I could seriously date.”
“I'm worried about not being able to commit, or letting down my guard and then getting my already fragile heart broken yet again,” I continued. “I don't feel strong or level-headed enough to be making a connection like this with someone right now. And yet, he's been wonderful so far. Help! Has anyone else been in a similar situation?”
Although we were just a few dates in, I could already picture myself in a long-term relationship with this person. That prospect made me nauseous. A meaningful connection didn’t fit into my timeline—it had been less than eight months since my husband’s death!—and it freaked me out. Most of my days were spent sobbing over Jamie; how in the world was it also possible to crush on someone new? Whenever I considered if this person was someone I could seriously date, move in with, or eventually marry, my head felt like it was going to explode from the confusion of it all.
Thankfully, my widows set me straight. They offered a ton of valuable advice, but there was one bit of wisdom that especially stuck with me:
“Take it one date at a time. At the end of each date, ask yourself: Do I want to see him again? If the answer is yes, do it. If the answer is no, don’t.”
This! It was such a wonderfully simple and wise approach. And while matters of love undoubtedly get more complicated the longer you’re with someone, it was exactly the kind of no-nonsense mindset I needed to adopt at the time.
I didn’t have to think about whether or not wedding bells were in our future; I just needed to take things one date at a time.
As it turns out, this guy was not the dream match I imagined him to be. After a few more promising dates, the shine started to wear off. It was hard to get him to open up about his feelings, which I thought might take time. We had some tense conversations around his alcoholism, which was something I was willing to work with. Things fell apart, though, when he slept with someone else. I didn’t have the capacity or patience for that.
Do I want to see him again? Eventually, my answer was no. So I broke things off.
This is not a story of love lost, nor was this person the only one I dated after Jamie died with whom I wondered if there would be a future. At the time, I was so stricken by grief and overwhelmed by emotion that I wrongly imagined a few different times that I’d met The One. Thankfully, time and again, the date-by-date approach set me on the right path.
The brilliance of taking things date by date was that it gave my heart, rather than my head, a chance to lead. I wasn’t asking myself if I could picture a life with the person across the table from me, or whether if, intellectually, we made a good match. Instead, I was asking a basic question—do I want to see this person again? It was a simple, straightforward query that my emotion-driven heart could answer.
I’ve heard the idea that our minds scream, while our hearts whisper. I tend to listen to my brain a lot—hence the name of this newsletter. I overanalyze things. I get stressed out about outcomes that haven’t even occurred. I let my loud thoughts run free. Rarely, do I stop and listen to the murmurs of my heart.
In an article for Psychology Today, therapist Barton Goldsmith offered advice on how to connect with your heart. “I know it may sound a little corny, but most of the time, we are so caught up in what’s going on in our heads that we forget about our emotional selves,” he wrote. “And that can cause us to be stopped in our tracks without even knowing it. If your heart isn’t in it, not much is going to happen.”
Goldsmith’s advice is deceptively simple: He suggests literally placing a hand on your heart as you try to figure out what’s vexing you. This approach works with matters of love, as I have discovered, but applies to other big life changes, like job transitions, moving states, or deciding whether or not to grow your family.
“Sometimes it takes a little while to really get what is going on for you, because often your brain is sending information to your heart based on your proclivities,” Goldsmith explained. “The habit of your behaviors may be so ingrained in you that it is hard to tell yourself that you are not feeling what you think you are feeling. Correctly hearing the truth from your heart can help you vanquish your issues and allow you to enjoy life in ways you never could have imagined.”
If I let my brain lead the way, my dating adventures wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable. I would have gotten bogged down with insecurities and what-ifs. I would have tried to control the situation instead of letting relationships unfold. It would have made an already difficult time in my life even harder to get through.
I don’t know that I ever took Goldsmith’s advice of actually placing a hand on my chest, but I do know that the date-by-date question I asked myself was directed to my sweet, whispering heart—not my sweet, dumb brain.
I realize that my choice to date so early in widowhood might be deemed controversial. (I wrote about dating for Glamour, and the headline they chose confirmed this.) Honestly, though, I believe that the dates I went on helped me to process my grief. The good dates reminded me of all of the wonderful times that Jamie and I shared. The bad ones reminded me how lucky I was to have had Jamie as a partner. And the great dates, however few and far between, made me hopeful that love was still out there—despite how shattered my heart was.
I was (and still am, and always will be) grieving because I loved Jamie so deeply. In a strange way, choosing to open my heart again seemed like a beautiful chance to honor that. Why wouldn’t I want to try to find love again?
I met Billy 11 months after Jamie’s death. He was performing as a musician at the same event where I was speaking—about grief, no less. But it wasn’t until four months later that we ran into each other again, this time on the dating app Bumble.
For our first date, Billy and I decided to get coffee and go for a walk. We wound up talking and walking for nine miles! That day, I definitely knew I wanted to go on another date. And so we did. Every time I met up with Billy, I’d ask myself the same question: Do I want to see him again? The answer was always yes.
With time, things got more serious and more complicated. There were some periods when, logically, I wasn’t sure whether Billy and I would work out. Sometimes, my grief seemed too demanding. Other times, it felt like we were at different places in our lives. Still, after a year of seeing each other, we decided to move in together. By that point, the date-by-date question no longer worked.
As our relationship grew, my mind would shout, and I’d fret and worry about whether Billy and I were meant to be. Eventually, though, I’d quiet those thoughts enough to listen to my heart.
It would always whisper the same thing: Keep going.
Billy and I have now been together for more than three years. We have a daughter and just bought a house. We’ve moved states and are making our way through a pandemic, which means we hardly ever spend time apart. Our lives are so intertwined that it would take a lot more than a simple question to untangle them.
If I tried to picture this current reality when Billy and I first met, I likely would have bolted. I think I would have gotten so scared, so confused, so superstitious, so conflicted about the outcome, that I would have convinced myself that it would be easier either to stay single or continue going on noncommittal dates with noncommittal dudes. My mind wasn’t ready to take in the reality of finding such big love again.
And yet, here I am. Instead of letting my brain lead the way, I listened to my heart.
The date-by-date approach got me to where I am today, brave and vulnerable enough to be building a beautiful life once more with someone new. I don’t know when exactly I stopped asking whether I wanted to see Billy again. At some point, my heart knew what my mind couldn’t yet process.
I’m so grateful that I allowed my heart to take the lead on this one.
xoxo KHG
p.s. Do you have any tricks that help you listen to your heart? Can you think of an example where your heart took the lead, instead of your mind? Do tell! You can share by replying to this email, leaving a comment, or sending me a message.
As always, reader replies will be part of Friday’s newsletter, which is for paying subscribers.
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Thank you to Jihii for including My Sweet Dumb Brain in her newsletter this week. And she’s right, that comment from Ashley is gold!
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My Sweet Dumb Brain is written by Katie Hawkins-Gaar. It’s edited by Rebecca Coates, who, after reading this essay, is reminded of Grandmother Willow’s sage advice: “Listen with your heart, you will understand!” Photos by Lon Christensen and Andrew Seaman on Unsplash.
I loved this issue, Katie. It was just perfect. I really love that line, "I’ve heard the idea that our minds scream, while our hearts whisper." I've never heard it described quite that way before, but it's SO true.