A Date With Myself

I could hardly wait for my date with myself, a part of my Bodysex Lite homework assignment with Laura Bogush. The assignment was simple yet profound: plan a date just for me and use all my senses to savor the experience.

With my husband out of town and a day off work, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I woke early, smiling as I thought, This is my day. I picked up the tiny vase by my bedside, with a pink rose and white daisies, and inhaled the fresh scent. I had purchased a bouquet in preparation for my date and strategically placed the flowers throughout the house. Each arrangement was a reminder of my intention.

I opened the window, letting cool air rush over my skin, peeking out from under my covers. Breathing deeply, I exhaled with a crackly, throaty noise. I did this a few times, and then slowed down and touched my skin, not rushing, not thinking, just feeling.

An hour slipped by as I moved from head to toe, honoring every inch of myself, with tender touches, squeezes, and grazes. I finished by pressing my toes downward in a gentle squeeze, releasing a little of the tension stored inside of me. “Ah, this was so lovely.”

Curling onto my side, knees pulled close, I wrapped my arms around myself in a tight hug, holding me, cradling me, loving me. Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks as I said to myself, “I love you, Searing,” remembering Betty Dodson’s words to herself.

Showering was a delight. I asked Alexa to play songs by PINK. Her voice always lifts me then. I lathered up with a pretty soap my mom had given me, inhaled the fresh scent, which carried me into a memory, and more tears flowed. Afterward, I squirted body oil gel into my lotion and gently rubbed it across every part of my skin, as if anointing each area with intention. I nourish my skin daily, but rarely take the time to slow down and honor all of my parts. Today I did. I finished by spritzing with a chamomile and patchouli spray, savoring how fresh and alive I felt.

I grabbed a t-shirt and shorts, and thought, ”Wait a minute, is that what I would wear on a date?” I chose some pretty new underwear (it was wrinkled, so I ironed it - I would for a date), I slipped into jeans that made me feel sexy, a fun top, and a bracelet my granddaughter had given me. I felt pretty and smelled delightful.

Just then, a friend called and asked if I wanted to do something. I told her I had plans. “I’m taking care of me today”. She sounded surprised, but understood and wished me a beautiful day.

For lunch, I enjoyed some watermelon, savoring its sweet flavor and appreciating its juiciness, dripping down my chin. The flowers I placed in the kitchen caught my eye. Every time I walked by them, I deliberately took a moment to inhale their fragrance, close my eyes, and smile.

I went to the grocery store and kept tuning into my senses. It was hectic for a Friday afternoon. I noticed the smells of body odor and weed, heard the sounds of people searching for just the right item, and caught snippets of different languages, laughter, and parents scolding children. PINK was playing in the background. I smiled, happy to be with myself, and appreciated that she was keeping me company today.

After unloading my items, I smelled something burning in the kitchen. I saw a box that I had set on the stove and realized I had accidentally bumped a knob and turned a burner on. I quickly removed it, ran it under water in the sink, then opened the sunroom doors and windows to let in the fresh air, while the smoke drifted out. The scent of burnt cardboard lingered, and oddly enough, I liked it.

When I went to check the mail, my neighbor was outside. He had been wanting to talk, and I politely asked if he wanted to join me for a drink. He declined, and I felt relieved.

I checked myself in the mirror, poured a glass of wine, and pressed my nose deep into a rose while listening to “I Can Love Me Better” by Miley Cyrus. How appropriate, I thought. I cooked teriyaki chicken and fried rice, something I rarely do for myself. I usually just grab a salad or eat my husband’s leftovers. This time, I plated my food with watermelon on the side, brought a bouquet outside to my gazebo, and lit several candles.

I set my phone down, and a picture of my late father and me popped up. “You can join me for dinner, Dad”. Tears streamed down my face. I slowed down, savoring every bite, enjoying the warmth, the sweetness, the juicy flavors. The candles gave off rich scents of patchouli and citronella. My environment was so delightful. Around me, I heard the locusts buzzing, children playing, and birds singing.

I received a message that one of my partners had found his dog dead in his yard, a horrific scene. She had bled to death after a tumor broke loose in her throat. Life can change on a dime. I intentionally appreciated this moment of mine, while feeling sadness and compassion for my friend.

It was getting late, and I decided to end my date with a long bath of oils, lavender salts, and bubbles. I thought about turning on the music, but chose to sit in the quiet for a while instead. I opened the window, lit a candle, and sank into the hot water, feeling it surround and soothe me. When I was finished, I dried off and anointed my body with oil and lotion again, honoring every part. Taking the time to be intentional today, instead of rushing through the motions, felt deeply meaningful.

Afterward, I carried a candle into my bedroom, placed it by my bedside, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply. I turned the music back on and let the rhythm pulse through my hips, letting the beat pound throughout my body. A soft country ballad gave way to a hard rock song by Nickelback, and I let myself move with it. Wrapped in the softness of my pillows and blankets, I felt waves of love and compassion for myself as I listened to the words. It was as though I had slipped into another world.

I hugged myself tightly, breathing in the last trace of my scent as I smiled and closed my eyes. Today I hadn’t been alone; I had been with myself, and that difference changed everything. Alone can feel empty. Being with myself felt whole, loving, and deeply nourishing. I had found comfort in my own presence. I think I like her and I want to hang out with her more often.