The Post-Date Comedown: A Love Letter from Me to You

How do you go back to reality? 

You know that feeling, right?

The one that hits about forty minutes after we close the hotel door behind us and blow you one last kiss from the hallway?

At first, you feel wonderful. You lie awake in bed, replaying every moment in your head. Your body feels exhausted, but your mind feels totally enlivened.

Then, the thoughts creep in.

Wait, did I totally just imagine that? 

Was she really having fun, or just saying she was?

Am I a jerk for talking about my hobbies too much? (By the way, you never are!)

Slowly, the thoughts take a bitter turn. 

I'll bet she does that with everyone. 

I'm weird for liking that as much as I do.

This is the last time I do this. When I wake up in the morning, it's 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups. I'm going to lock in, sell my company, retire early, and move to the Caribbean.

I've heard a lot about these thoughts, usually around 2am, usually with an email that starts with "hey, this is going to sound silly but..." (reader, it never sounds silly).

Or, you're back in your hotel room. You're in the lounge at the airport. You're in your car in the parking garage, sitting there with your hands on the wheel like "what do I do with my LIFE now." The city is still humming outside, your sheets still smell like my perfume, and your heart is doing that weird achy thing. No, you don't need to call your cardiologist. Your sodium intake is fine. You're experiencing what I officially (medically) diagnose as the post-date comedown. And I want you to know: it's not weird or bad. It's actually a good sign!

Here's the thing nobody tells you about spending time with a companion. For a few hours, everything is easy. We get to focus wholeheartedly, and presently, on having fun. We talk about life, and I'm actually listening because I actually care. It's hot. It's exciting. It gives you adrenaline. And, most importantly, you get touched with intention.

And then it ends. Because all beautiful things end.

So then, your brain goes "wait. wait wait wait. What just happened?"

Suddenly the regular world feels gray again. Emails are dumb. The hotel room is too quiet. You're scrolling your phone in the dark like a little lost raccoon, wondering if you text me too soon (you didn't. I would text you first if I could, you know that).

You rotate through my social media, scrolling for some sign of reality, of the woman underneath the blurry photos. You're on my website, trying to figure out if there's some secret code, some message-in-a-bottle that will explain how you feel. You find yourself getting jealous about a date I posted two years before we even met. Then, you get upset with yourself for feeling jealous about it. 

As a biological rule, humans are geared to strive for equilibrium. You just had this great high, and now your nervous system is feeding you a comedown. It's as simple as that. It doesn't mean anybody did anything bad, or wrong. There's no story to tell here, beyond the one where we enjoy spending time together. 

And here's my confession: I get it too. Omg-- of course I do! How could I not!

I close the door and I'm in the elevator, still in my heels, cheeks literally hurting from smiling, and I'm already like... when do I get to see him again?? I'll get home, take my makeup off, crawl into bed, and I'll mentally replay the perfect, tiny moments from our date. The way you tucked my hair back. That thing you said at dinner that made me snort-laugh into my wine (so embarrassing!). That other thing we did, the thing so hot I would never dream of disclosing it on the internet. 

My chest does the same achy thing yours does.

So, here's what I think we should do about it:

1. Let it hurt a little. Missing someone means the connection was real. I don't do fake. The comedown isn't a problem to fix. It's a feeling to feel.

2. Book the next one before the sad gets too loud. This is not me being a businesswoman, this is me being honest. When you text me "I already miss you," I'm over here going "baby I am around on THURSDAY, say less." Anticipation is half the magic, and having something on the calendar makes the ache disappear. 

3. Tell me. Please please please don't ghost because you think the feelings are "too much." This all only works because we both let it be real. I would rather get your 2am "thinking about you" Throne notification a hundred times than wonder if I imagined how good it was.

4. Send me something to let me know that you're thinking about me. This may just be the number-one most effective treatment, after putting something else in the calendar. If you know you may not be able to see me for a while due to your work schedule, or other life obligations, pick out something cute from my wishlist. I love jewelry-- a reminder you are with me always, or a cute outfit to wear for you next time I see you. Great gifts can be practical: I treasure my fancy rice cooker and that one cashmere Hermes shawl that's absolutely perfect to wrap myself in when I fly out to see you next time. 

5. Take care of the you that I send back into the world. Eat something good. Text your friends. Remember that the version of you I fell for all evening? That guy exists on regular Tuesdays too. I didn't create him. I just got to hold him for a night.

The comedown is just affection with nowhere to go. So, we give it somewhere to go. Maybe that's another date, another dinner, another "one more hour, I shouldn't, but okay fine, ONE more hour" (we both know it's never one hour, lol).

You're not addicted, you’re not weird, you don’t have a problem. There's no need to pathologically investigate. Nothing is wrong. What really just happened? You just remembered what it feels like to be enjoyed. And once your heart remembers that, it wants to keep the memory warm.

Which is exactly what I'm here for.

So, like. When am I seeing you again?

Because my calendar's open and I have this cute lingerie set I've been dying to wear...

xoxo,

Riley