Olaf Growald
He’s standing outside the Modern Museum of Art in Fort Worth waiting for me. My hair is perfectly coiffed. Lipstick applied. Skinny jeans glued on. After six weeks of texting, calls, and shared life photos, we were finally meeting in real life: Bumble date No. 1 billion and one. He waves as I’m walking up from the parking lot. It’s sunny and he’s hard to see, but as I get closer to him, I feel good, and my anxiety starts to ease. He has on jeans (normal), button-down shirt (classic), and nice shoes (smart). Then, he opens his mouth: “Hello, Sarah. Nice to meet you.” My mouth drops. What I’d missed from the online photos, phone calls, and a failed Facebook search was an open-mouthed smile. He didn’t have any teeth.
Well, to be fair, he had a few. They were sprinkled around an otherwise cavernous gumline, which almost made the missing ones even more prominent.
I’m sure my face was filled with terror. I looked at the door handle to the museum. I thought about where my car was parked and how quickly I could get there.
Then, I stuck out my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, too.”
Now, this was then — four years ago when I was much nicer, not nearly as experienced in the world of dating, and didn’t really know what I wanted in a partner or what a “partner” even was.
Also, I kept thinking: What if I didn’t have any teeth? I would still want somebody to date me. Hell — to love me.
This empathetic mantra ran through my mind the whole time we walked around paintings, sculptures, and photography. Not looking at his mouth was the only thing I was really concerned about. The artwork was a great escape from actual eye contact and conversation. Thank you, Modern Museum of Art.
After about an hour and a mental commitment to finish the afternoon, I decided I needed to make this date better for myself.
“Want to go to the bar?” I asked.
“Oh, definitely,” he said.
I’m guessing that was a faulty signal to him that I was enjoying myself because I wanted to get a drink. When really, I needed to dull my senses and try to create an out-of-body experience with the help of my friend, gin.
Sitting around a table at the bar of Café Modern, he started talking. I will say, he was delightful in some ways. We talked about where he was from. His job. His family. The art, which he said had a lot of “naked people” (not wrong). And then, he got to the elephant in the room:
“You might have noticed … I’m missing some teeth,” he said.
Now, luckily, I’ve had many college students tell me a lot of personal stuff over the years, and I’ve learned how to keep a straight face regardless of the subject matter.
“Oooooh … yeah,” I said, kind of looking off into the distance as if I’d just barely noticed.
“Well, I was in a motorcycle accident,” he goes on.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “That must have been terrible.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It happened a year ago.”
A YEAR AGO? I’d be selling a kidney and getting implants the next DAY.
“But I’m going to get new teeth anytime now,” he said.
“Oh, that’s good,” I said. “I’m sure it’s been tough.”
At that point, he paid our bill, and we headed to the bathroom.
I’d kind of stopped noticing the missing teeth over the course of the afternoon — it’s like watching a car wreck that’s lost its luster. But I was more than ready to go.
Back from the bathroom, he asked, “Where are we going next?”
Again, I was not very smart. This was years ago. And I had no exit strategy. All I’d been doing the whole time was trying not to stare at his mouth where teeth should have been.
“Um, I need to go to Target,” I mumbled.
“Great, I’ll go with you,” he said, with a big toothless smile.
Shit. I’m going to have to say something honest.
“Well, actually, [stall, stall, stall, look at the ground, look at my hands, look at the wall] I don’t think we’re a good fit.”
He disagreed but respected my opinion and hugged me as we walked to our cars in the parking lot.
That day, I felt like God had spoken very clearly: Delete all your dating apps. You. Are. Done.
And that is exactly what I did as I sat in the car listening to the little voice inside my head, repeating my greatest fear over and over again:
You’re going to die alone.
You’re going to die alone.
You’re going to die alone.
Fear and Love
Olaf Growald
I met the man I married when I was 17. We sat beside each other in government class at Haltom High School. He was dreamy in cutoff khakis, a wild Hawaiian button-down, and flip-flops. He didn’t care what the world thought about him, and that made me care about him even more; he walked those crowded high school halls with confidence and ease, towering above the sea of pimple-faced teenagers at a gorgeous 6 feet, 4 inches.
He was so many good things. But he wasn’t good for me. We used to talk about how we weren’t quite right for each other — not a “good fit.” We talked about it during our time together in college, we talked about it when we moved back to Texas and I was in graduate school, and we were still talking about it after we got engaged. Deep down, I knew he wasn’t right, but the fear of being alone — even then — held me back from ending it with him and trying to start a relationship with somebody new; the thought was terrifying. He was safe, secure, kind, and I didn’t know anything else.
Now, I know, that type of fear is engrained in our DNA.
“There’s a deep evolutionary wisdom for our desire to pair-bond,” says Dr. Sarah E. Hill, professor of psychology at Texas Christian University. “For this reason, it can be a very salient issue for people; it’s incredibly important in our lives.”
Hill says that having a partner or that “pair-bond” translates into what people have historically needed to thrive and survive.
“When we don’t have that [partner], our brains frame it as a survival threat,” Hill says. “This can also add to the type of anxiety a lot of people get when unpartnered.”
Biology is hard-wired, she explains, and human mating psychology is incredibly rich because it has been inherited from the brains of successful ancestors. “Evolution by selection.”
Women are naturally attracted to men who possess health, resource access, provisioning ability (think bringing home the bacon) and parenting potential, says Hill. Why? All this hypothetically helps create a more successful outcome for a woman’s children.
Men, evolutionary, have been attracted to signs of fertility like youth and beauty. A woman’s ability to provide for the family financially wasn’t a thing in the brains of our male ancestors like it is today.
So, what’s love got to do with it? Well, a lot.
Despite all of our evolutionary drivers, we still have choice, explains Hill. But it’s nearly impossible to change who you’re naturally sexually attracted to, she says.
“I think we need to be more compassionate with ourselves for this. We are attracted to who we are attracted to — these are qualities that would have historically let our ancestors reproduce.”
Many times, Hill says, women are told we’re too picky. But she believes that’s just not true.
“You can’t force it. I think this is especially true for women,” Hill says. “Women’s superpower is discrimination on male partners — we need to be aware of that and not listen to messages that say we are being elitist or bitchy or gold diggers, just because we have standards.”
Chemistry
Olaf Growald
Envision this: You’ve found a great guy or gal. Y’all met in the Whole Foods lotions and potions aisle discussing the merits of beeswax and organic lotion — um, dreamy. They’re kind, funny, smart, ambitious, and they even smell good, but you’re not sure the chemistry is there.
The sexual attraction between a guy and a gal is often there but sometimes simply needs some focus. Couples can create an experience for your body and mind by incorporating all of the senses. Light a candle, turn on music, and pay attention to the tiny details we sometimes rush past: What’s the taste of your partner’s skin. So, yes, sexual chemistry can absolutely improve.
It’s a lifelong exploration that ebbs and flows and changes with our bodies.
“A lot of factors go into strong relationships,” says Brad Nowlin, a marriage and family therapist in Fort Worth. “Friendship, respect, shared values, commitment, continued growth mindset, and positivity are really important in terms of repair and overcoming challenges together.”
But not all couples can successfully overcome these challenges, especially when there’s the added pressure of a two-year pandemic.
The divorce rate in the U.S. is about 43%, Nowlin says. And the past two years may have pushed those numbers up even higher, he says.
“I think the pandemic affected us a lot mentally and emotionally,” says Nowlin. “We had a four-layer stress cake with the pandemic, the political situation, race relations, and the snow situation in Texas. Stress affected everybody.”
He says it probably led to more anxiety and depression in relationships, which then affects the overall happiness of the couple and the family.
My own 11-year marriage to my daughter’s father was overshadowed by a decade of chronic depression. It eroded trust, killed emotional intimacy, and eventually led to major financial problems — and that was without a pandemic in the mix.
On the Prowl
Olaf Growald
Fort Worth is arguably the biggest small town in the country. In 2021, it climbed to the 12th largest city in the U.S., according to a new population estimate from the U.S. Census Bureau. But it still feels like a cozy neighborhood where everyone is only one degree of separation from everyone else, and each unique district is pulsating with possibilities from business to the arts to higher education. Go Frogs!
It’s a great place to live. It’s a great place to work. It’s also a great place to date.
But it’s hard to quantify the number of truly single men and women living in the city because people are waiting longer to get married but not necessarily longer to couple up. A 2021 Census report showed men are waiting until about 30 and women, age 28 to tie the knot for the first time; those numbers include same-sex couples, too.
Anecdotally, it’s a sea of plenty if my dating apps are any measure of quantity. But we know quantity doesn’t equal quality, and sometimes less is literally more.
All these handsome possibilities lighting up my screen creates a psychological effect called the paradox of choice, which means that too many options make people feel less happy and more unsure about a decision in general, explains Logan Ury in her book, How to Not Die Alone, (yes, I’ve read it, twice).
“We’re crippled by analysis paralysis,” writes Ury. “And this is especially true when it comes to choosing a life partner.”
What makes modern dating and the ever-present dating apps so hard to navigate is they can only communicate measurable, factual traits such as height, eye color, and other listables that potential mates are willing to share:
I like tennis. Wine. My dog Fido. Bacon. And maybe you.
Trying to see if you’ve got chemistry with a picture and some words on screen is an impossibility. Trust me. I’ve gone out with many guys who were “great on paper” but didn’t check the box in the chemistry department. I wanted to like them, but I just couldn’t. As Hill says, you can’t force it.
Enter meeting IRL, the acronym for what used to be the only way people met and started dating up until the 1990s. But where-oh-where are all the single people hiding in The Fort? And where’s the best place to meet somebody new, bring a first date, or grow and nurture an established relationship?
I’m not a paid spokesperson for Wishbone & Flynt, but maybe I should be. The newish restaurant located off South Main in Southside has all the makings of a great love story, starting with a happy hour from 11 a.m. – 6 p.m. Monday through Thursday.
I order the house pinot noir (Sand Point from California) when I go and an appetizer like the beef skewers. There are singles sitting at the bar and couples spread throughout the dining room; business meetings happen there, too, with cowboy hats, sometimes sequined dresses, and boots.
If you feel so inclined, there’s a speakeasy cocktail bar in the back called the Amber Room that’s open late and decorated in retro mixed with gemstones. Or you can do as I do and just cut straight to the Amber Room for a first date test drive.
Fort Worth celebrity, Tony Green, of the fabulous “Hello, I’m Tony Green” television show is a longtime service industry pro and purveyor of awesome eats and drinks throughout Cowtown. Green likes Nickel City off South Main and the new Hotel Dryce for easy drinks and a great bar scene.
Green says the long bar top at Nickel City is a great place to land for a view of who might get your next glance. “Expect great cocktails, amazing bar food, and should you be so bold, mezcal!”
At Hotel Dryce, the drinks and the vibe just keep getting better as the hotel finds its groove, says Green. The hip hotel, opened in 2021 by local entrepreneur, Jonathan Morris, has a downstairs bar that’s known for its “fabulously curated cocktails.” It might also be known for great first dates that lead to dinner down the street.
All the Likes: Dating Style Advice for Women at Every Decade with Tiffany Blackmon
“Always dress to fit your personality, body style, and a look that makes you feel confident. Local boutiques are great at creating looks that are feminine, minimalist, with a sense of flare and over the top.”
In your 30s: Select a pair of on-trend jeans with a statement blouse and simple shoes and accessories.
In your 40s: A look that shows a bit of youth and a dash of maturity. A feminine skirt paired with a beautiful, tailored blazer and statement jewelry.
In your 50s: Tailored pants or jeans, simple blouse, bold shoes, and accessories.
Local boutique recommendation from the Tiffany Blackmon closet:
C+B Furs
Shop Birdie
Esther Penn
Hale House
You Are Here
Neiman Marcus Clearfork
Tory Burch Clearfork
Creating a Love Story That Lasts
My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in November. I filmed them cutting the cake (again) and reciting written down speeches:
“I love you for always putting me first and taking care of me through our good times and rough times of our marriage,” my mom said.
“You are my best friend and the love of my life. My love for you will always continue to grow as we live the rest of our lives together.”
My mom was crying and toasting my dad with champagne sipped from the same 1970s wine glasses they used on the day they got married. I know what true partnership and love looks like; it’s been omnipresent in my life through my parents’ shining example.
But what my parents have is extremely rare. Nowlin says that just 5% of couples make it to 50 years of marriage. Male mortality is a big reason, says Nowlin, and of course the divorce rate, too.
George and Karen Angle, both 73, met at church in Haltom City, a suburb located outside of Fort Worth, when they were just teenagers. Karen was a shy and gorgeous brunette, and George was the outspoken student council president, football player, and Mr. Popular.
“Admiration for my wife is why my marriage has lasted so long,” George said. “Her hard work ethic, understanding, and a sense of forgiveness.”
“And quick to admit when I’m wrong,” Karen quipped.
“If I ever happen to be wrong, I’ll be glad to admit it, too,” George joked.
That’s how my parents are. Still playful after 50 years of marriage. Maybe that’s the secret: Having fun despite the challenges.
My dad says the hardest part of sustaining years of love is appreciating the self-sacrifice it takes to make it work year after year.
The beauty of being married or partnered for five decades is seeing all the memories and all the life you’ve created together each time you look at that person’s face. It’s a vision of the past; it’s a portrait of the present; it’s a glimpse into the future. At least, that’s how my dad sees my mom.
But not all love stories (or marriages) work out the first time around. Nowlin says that couples have to really want it and really work at it to create a “10 level” relationship. And that’s what he works toward every day with his wife, Grace Nowlin.
“We’re in a second marriage for the both of us,” says Nowlin. “We didn’t get it right the first time out of the box but learned and grew and found the right person. It helps me as a counselor to show people they can be resilient and bounce back regardless of the challenge.”
Fort Worth social influencer Tiffany Blackmon
(@tiffanycblackmon) would agree. The now happily married 56-year-old fashionista, chef, and podcast host says she’d nearly given up on ever finding a partner, let alone getting married again.
She says her first marriage “was a train wreck.” But the second was good. She married a wonderful man, had her daughter Kennedy, but it didn’t last, and she felt all the pain and loneliness of being a single mother — missing her child for major holidays and splitting precious time with another parent.
“I thought, ‘I’m never getting married again,’” Blackmon says.
And she didn’t, for years, until Greg. Not surprisingly, she met Greg online, but it wasn’t the standard Bumble or Hinge or Match.com that’s on the tip of all singles’ tongues and screen-time histories. They met through a high-end matchmaking service called Selective Search. (Maybe I’ll sign up.)
It was Dec. 27, 2009. She got off the elevator at the Omni Hotel in Fort Worth, rounded the corner, and saw him: “There he is; that’s my husband,” she said to herself.
Dinner was perfect. Greg said he’d call her the next day, and he did. They went to lunch. And many more lunches and dinners after that.
Greg told her that when he saw her picture, he knew he’d found the love of his life.
“He was searching for a wife. He wanted a partner,” says Blackmon.
At the end of the day, being ready to date or commit to a relationship is really all about knowing yourself and what you want.
Nowlin says “being ready” depends on the individual, where they are in life, and if they’re brave enough to be uncomfortable. “Discomfort is the price of admission we pay for a meaningful life,” says Nowlin, quoting the psychologist and author Dr. Susan David.
“In dating, I think you have to be willing to experience a lot of awkwardness and uncomfortableness. And be able to laugh through those moments and enjoy those experiences as much as you can,” says Nowlin.
Being ready requires a heavy knowledge of self, he says, and self-compassion.
Nowlin says more people are getting divorced during the pandemic, and perhaps the entire experience has made us more aware of our mortality and unwilling to stay in unsatisfactory relationships.
He also sees those couples who come in for counseling to be proactive because they realize how fragile relationships are and want it to work; they want it to get better.
Tiffany married Greg Blackmon on June 11, 2011.
“I’ve found my one and done,” she says. It just took her a little life experience and wisdom to get there.
Addicted to Love
Love is the most powerful drug in the world.
We all want it. We all try to find it. And when we get it (really get it), we don’t ever want to let it go.
Drugs were basically created to mimic the experience of love, explains Hill. Yeah, love is addictive, she says. The brain rewards us when we’re in love by releasing chemicals like dopamine and serotonin, creating an amazing experience.
“It’s a superhighway of happiness and reward so we want more; we want to be in it. We want to bathe in it. Love is the most phenomenal magic carpet ride with our neurotransmitters.”
And just like any addictive substance, when it’s taken away, we crave it. We feel pain. We break. In this case, it’s called heartbreak.
MRI brain scans show that withdrawal (read: break-ups) from romantic love activates the same mechanisms in the brain that go crazy when a person is experiencing withdrawal from cocaine.
Even in an established relationship, the withdrawal is terrible, explains Hill. “You’re removing positive stimuli (taking away the opioid), and there’s a lot of fear associated with being unpartnered. We are wired for long-term pair-bonding.”
Heartbreak is sickness with no cure, remedy, or respite.
The worst one of my life happened right before the world entered a global pandemic.
I contracted COVID-19 and called off an engagement in the same year, many months apart. I thought I was going to die from both the heartbreak and the disease equally. My heart hurt in different ways: It was acute physical pain. But the heartbreak was worse. I’m now fully recovered from COVID-19 (thank you, Lord), but the pain of losing that kind love is a grief that remains. It’s something you carry. And in the end, the ability to carry something so heavy makes you stronger; it makes you better. Smarter. More empathetic. And more resilient. That broken heart heals with scars that make it harder to break the next time, but hopefully still soft and fragile enough to open up again.
And yet.
I still want that drug back.
“You’re the love of my life,” he told me.
“And you’re mine.”
I don’t think he was lying, but I do know now that love isn’t enough.
Like Nowlin says, it takes work, compromise, and the choice to stay in it even when it’s hard. It takes commitment in a culture where we are inundated with potential dates and mates on apps, social media, and other various screens. Commitment can be tough. But it’s the only way to form true emotional intimacy, and that’s the best drug money can’t buy.
Today, when I go out with men (yes, mostly to Wishbone & Flynt) I care less about a strong jawline, bulging biceps, or a full head of hair and more about emotional intelligence, values, and a life well-lived. Even in the age of infinite possibilities and dating apps that provide the opportunity to select almost anything, the best partners can’t be quantified digitally. That latest dopamine ding rings empty without something real on the other side of the screen. Something real is a precious thing.
