My first date as a widow was a disaster — and also a success

• My husband died five years ago, leaving me taking care of our two kids.
• I slowly dipped my toes into online dating and decided to go on a date.

On the day I said, "I do," I assumed I was done with dating forever. And thank goodness. Based on the horror stories I heard from my single girlfriends, between the time I met my husband and married him, the dating world had changed drastically, and it was only getting worse as dating apps became the way to meet people.

And then my husband died.

After the heaviest, darkest parts of grief passed, I began to see a life where I loved my husband and was open to new love. A life that I shared with someone and didn't have to sacrifice any of the love I already had. A little more than a year after my husband died, a friend encouraged me to try dating apps. "Just see what happens," she said.

I tried online dating

I did. After a few false starts, I dipped my toe into the world of online dating. Within hours, I had matches, messages, and conversations. One of the matches asked me for coffee, and despite the terror, I said yes.

For two reasons: one, he was nothing like my husband — in both appearance and personality — and that seemed like a good thing, and two, if I was going to date, I had to actually date. Coffee in the middle of the day in a crowded café seemed like a great place to start.

I told a few trusted friends where I'd be and when. I did my make-up and tried to remember what people wore on dates. I used a trick my husband often used and mentally pocketed a few fun conversation starters in case things got quiet.

It was not a good first date

The date was a disaster. He texted me that he was waiting for me out front, and when I parked a few minutes later, I didn't see him. Or, more accurately, didn't recognize him. He was at least 10 years older than his photo.

Then we went inside and ordered two coffees. While I grabbed a straw for my iced coffee, he chose the booth. And then claimed the booth. He took up all the space, his arms across the back, his body sprawled the length of the seat, his legs reaching to the other side of the table. The space he left for me was minimal. We chatted — and he was the loudest voice in the room, loud enough that the people around us kept looking over.

That bad date taught me something

I came home, and I cried because the date was a disaster. Because obviously, I was not cut out for online dating. Because I could not shake the awful feeling that I had done something unforgivable just by going on this date.

After a few hours had passed and both my heart rate and blood pressure returned to normal, I took stock of the date and realized it wasn't the disaster I initially thought it was. Not because we were headed for a second date but because I learned three valuable lessons. I learned to be a little more wary of photos and that telling friends where I would be and when was the bare minimum of safety measures required for online dating. I learned that if my only requirement for a match was that they didn't remind me of my husband, I was going to go on a lot of bad first dates.

Most importantly, I learned that I can do this thing that feels so impossible. I can date, be open to new love, and not lose an ounce of the love I have for my husband.

In my opinion, that makes my first date as a widow a resounding success. While also being a complete disaster. And that's OK. It can be both. Because in love, like in grief, two entirely contradictory things can both be true — despair and hope, joy and heartache, a step forward and a step back.