Cocktails & Polygraphs

I was standing in a small, southern boutique between my momma and one of her dearest friends when it hit me that I was officially entering the dating world. We were among a bustling, support small business Saturday crowd, holding up a variety of tops and dresses as options to wear on my first date with front porch man. I caught a glimpse in the mirror of 20-year-old me, running through the mall with her momma searching for the perfect, grown-up, first date night dress. The same curiosity and anticipation were all there as I now embodied the reflection of 38-year-old me. A lifetime later, surrounded by the energy of supportive and kind women, and preparing for another first date. And this would not be just any first date. This would be my first date post deception.

A week after our tailgate meeting, I remained both eager and comfortable with my decision to have a date with front porch man. I decided on a local spot for a late lunch. A day-date.

And this felt good.

This was an opportunity to compassionately evaluate my two years of hard work; two years of consistently investing in the healing. This was an opportunity to see that I could trust myself; the validation that I arrived in a relationship with Self, long before the thought of placing trust in another was on my table.

It was a chilly fall day with spurts of rain showers. I left a few minutes early in a casual fall hoodie, jeans and flat boots, and my natural head of curls. My nails, shockingly, remained unmanicured. I remember adoring the innate confidence when I left my apartment that day. I remember texting my trusted inner circle as I headed out the door.

And this felt good.

Among my circle of fellow betrayed partners, I had candidly coined the dating post deception era, Cocktails & Polygraphs. We laughed at the play on words, while simultaneously and whole-heartedly expressing a real desire for tools when screening potential dating candidates. How does one even entertain dating, after experiencing what we have survived? How does one guarantee that truth, and only truth, is existing at a table among a cocktail, shared appetizers, and past and present experiences?

I did not initiate a polygraph for front porch man.

I did, however, give myself permission to experience refreshing Green Flags, in the early weeks of getting to know him.

These were the impactful connections that my brain and heart made, as safe to proceed:

Eye Contact.

Suggested options for date locations, and giving me the opportunity to decide the where and when.

Well-mannered, kind, and compassionate behaviors seen in multiple settings, situations, & among various circles of friends.

Punctuality demonstrated for all dates. My time and presence matters.

Active participant in conversation, with equal parts initiating, responding, and listening.

Long-standing, meaningful friendships exist in his life.

A strong commitment to family with healthy boundaries.

Consistent flow of transparent communication.

Openly discusses his faith and relationship with God.

Openly discusses where he is at in healing from prior relationship(s).

My body & mind relax to my healing baseline in his presence.

The truth, dear partner, is when you have survived and healed from the worst, you brain and heart will recognize it. And if you have done the work. If you have participated in the invested healing. The laying of a firm foundation. The rebuilding of a house with solid and boundary-proof walls. The grieving. The forgiveness. You won’t need the polygraph.

Bring your boundaries, core values, your trusted inner circle for support and the reality check-ins, on any new and exciting adventures you may consider post deception. But the ultimate reward, if you should choose to entertain dating post deception, is arriving to this new and exciting era, with the most trusted relationship of all. The one that lies in you.

One of the earliest safe-to-proceed connections I made with front porch man was, in fact, not through the green flags. It was not through anything he intentionally said or did. I caught a glimpse of a piece of artwork stretched across a wall, the first time he invited me to his home. The soft hues of blue, beige and teal, were mingling among a row of birds, ruffled in layered feathers. One line, traced delicately in script font sat beneath the birds. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge.” Psalm 91:4. The connection for my brain and heart was instant. I prayed Psalm 91, most nights on my knees with hands stretched open and wide, in the months leading up to my divorce. I prayed Psalm 91 after surviving some of the hardest days of my life. It was my protection. It was my refuge. And it was hanging on his wall. A wall I would pass by, as I continued to pass through many more stages of healing. A wall I live among to this day.

Safe to proceed.