3 min read

A comeback story

A comeback story

Finally, after 8 months of isolating, soothing my battered and heartbroken soul, I am back out on a date.

A first date.

I've been taken to The Moth, a storytelling event where volunteers share a story surrounding a theme. Tonight's theme: Joy.

With no plans to volunteer, my date and I comfortably found our seat on the floor in the front row. I can tell we're not going anywhere romantically -- I wasn't ready, the communication was stilted, neither one of us was into each other, but it doesn't matter. I was out of my apartment and out in San Francisco. After a few minutes, expecting the lights to dim when things would get started, we leaned back and readied ourselves for the show.

"We cannot start until we have 10 volunteers."

Uh oh... not enough people came prepared to talk about Joy in their lives and there certainly wasn't enough alcohol to go around. Wanting to show my date, the first (and definitely last date) I was impressive and brave enough to volunteer, I threw my name in the little tophat-shaped box.

I was certain I didn't have to tell a story, there were now at least 15 names in the hat. I wouldn't be called, so I snuggled back up with my beer and awkwardly started chatting up my date again... the conversation was rigid but easy enough for me to make meaningless noise.

"Is there an Ar-eee... R-E, I can't read this name" -- shit. It was me...

I got up and said nothing as I made my way on stage in front of 800 people from SF... a tiny town, if you've ever been. I know people in the audience. I didn't know who was there... I could hardly see through the spotlight... the dust particles from the room and me. That's all that was in the room.

"My mom thought I was gay..." I started. "I hadn't kissed a girl until high school..." I continued. The room was silent, as I began. I would go on to share the story of my first kiss: As the sun kisses the edge of the Earth, Deanna, or Dee as I knew her we shared my first kiss.

The next five minutes were filled with tears, laughs, cries, and clapping.

I can't remember the details of the story I told. I had to listen to the recording from The Moth to recall.

I didn't need to be on a date, heck I wasn't excited about the date. Sure, she was fine. We tried to schedule a second Moth edition, but it didn't happen. To be honest, I can't even remember her name. It doesn't matter.

Now that I've broken out of the isolation of my apartment and in with people I am back. I'm ready to take on the world.

Mind sparing a moment?

Is this post confusing? Did I make a mistake? Let me know if you have any feedback and suggestions!