09/09/2026
I just got stood up for a first date.
Yesterday we made plans to meet for coffee today. We confirmed the time and the coffee shop, and he said, “Sounds great!”
This morning, I sent a quick “Looking forward to seeing you :)” but didn’t hear back.
Hmmm, that was a little suspicious.
But I shaved my legs, got dressed, put on red lipstick, and went anyway.
I sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the coffee shop, waiting. Every time someone walked around the corner, my heart jumped a little.
Is that him?
Nope. Nobody looked remotely like his profile pictures.
Intuitively, I sensed he wasn’t coming. But I thought I’d give him a chance.
Fifteen minutes passed.
No guy. No text. No communication.
And the disappointment crept in.
I could get mad. I could make up a big story about why he didn’t show up. I could decide what his behavior says about him, or worse, what it says about me.
But I decided not to go there. And just let myself feel disappointed. To feel it without fixing it. Without minimizing it. Without taking it personally. Without turning it against myself.
There are a million possible reasons he didn’t show up and I don’t know which one is true.
But that’s not the point.
The point is what I do with disappointment.
Someone else’s actions, or lack of them, don’t determine my value or worthiness.
Getting stood up wasn’t the end of the world. And it certainly wasn’t the end of my day.
I thought I was going to spend the afternoon on a date. Instead, I unexpectedly have an afternoon all to myself.
The red lipstick is staying on.
