Dating After Cancer

Dating after cancer isn't really all that scary. Seriously, after being pumped full of poison and having our bodies blasted with radiation, I think most of us can fake our way through an hour or two of coffee and conversation with a potential love interest. Sex after cancer, on the other hand, can be a bit daunting. Especially if you're missing some essential body parts. And all of your hair. And the feeling in what used to be your chest.

What worked for me was to try to "rebuild" myself (paging the bionic woman!), to put myself back together using a wig and fake boobs and makeup. That helped me feel like myself so I felt more confident going out there meeting and interacting with men. But everybody's different so trying to "pass" may not work for everybody. And dating so quickly after treatment (or even amid treatment) may not work for people, either. I was lucky in that I only had four infusions of chemo and I seemed to endure it pretty well (as long as I took my meds, anyway). Same goes for radiation.

If you do feel ready to date, I would say to keep the cancer off the table for the first couple of dates. Don't include it on your profile if you're on an online dating site. Cancer doesn't define you; it's just a crappy phase you're going through. If you don't have a wig or prostheses, you may have to pony up about your situation sooner than a second or third date, but basically, the idea is to share the information only if you feel like it. Or you feel like you want them to know (for instance, if you'd like to continue seeing them).

As for the "reveal" (as I call it), I've found that if I throw it out there in a matter-of-fact way and not inundate the person with a lot of gory details (or emotion), most men will accept it without freaking out too much. In fact, I've found most guys take their cue from me. If I act like it's the end of the world, they will to. But if I just mention it in passing and not make it sound like it's completely destroyed me (even though it did at the time of diagnosis), they won't make a big deal out of it either. I've even had guys tell me that they think my attitude is "amazing" because I'm not breaking down in sobs over my cancer. Obviously, time helps (I was a complete tub of goo on the day I heard I had to have a double mastectomy) but at this point, I'm tired of giving cancer any more tears than it deserves. Quite frankly, I'd like to make it cry for a change.

As for sex, I can't talk too much about this because I'm not seeing anyone steadily. But I have had some pretty good make-out sessions here and there and while I was nervous about getting intimate with a guy at first (will my wig stay on? will he try to touch my fake boobs?), once you start kissing someone you like and connect with, you forget all about the cancer and the wig and the fake boobs and everything else. Your body and your hormones kick in and it's business as usual. My guess is once I get involved with someone, I'll probably wear more lingerie in bed than I did before (at least until I go through reconstruction), but I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to get back on that horse again (so to speak) without too many problems. ; )

I have written a bit about the nuts and bolts of dating with breast cancer on my blog, www.doublewhammied.com. Here's a link, for anyone who's interested: http://doublewhammied.com/2012/01/15/the-carrie-bradshaw-of-breast-cancer/

Oddly enough, I never really stopped dating through my whole breast cancer ordeal. I had just started seeing someone when I was diagnosed and that relationship (which was rather tenuous anyway) bowed and finally broke under the pressure of the cancer and a host of other things. After that, I went out with a couple of other guys (and even reconnected with my ex for a bit) but most of my time and energy was spent on doctors' appointments and tests and of course freaking out about my upcoming double mastectomy. I thought losing my breasts would mean the end of my dating life, my sex life, etc. But as it turned out, I recovered from surgery much faster than I expected (both emotionally and physically) and ended up going out on a date just two weeks after losing my girls.

That first date without breasts (I was still wearing my drains!) was pretty tough, primarily because my silhouette had suddenly gone from an hourglass to a pyramid. Basically, I had to figure out how to get my shape back or at least fake it 'til I could make it. My prostheses helped a lot; ditto for the pretty pocketed bras that I bought to go with them. Later -- when I started chemo and lost my hair -- my wig became another essential "prop" that I used to keep myself looking like myself. And feeling like myself.

I think that's probably one of the most difficult aspects of dating with cancer (or during cancer treatment). Between the bald head, the flat chest and the weird walnut-sized implant under my collar bone (my port), I felt more like a space alien than a woman. I know I'm more than the sum of my body parts, but the wig, the "gummi boobs," the makeup (I lost most of my eyebrows so need to put them back on) all helped me feel more like myself. They allowed me to "pass" as a normal, healthy woman. And I have to say, I did sort of get a kick out of going out with guys who had no clue that I'd been through chemo the day before (my "bad week" usually started on day 3) or was sporting hot radiation burns under my sweater.

I've never been much of a dating machine (as I mentioned in an earlier post, I've been happily single for years), but I did find that dating through cancer treatment was a great way to keep myself distracted from the crap that was going on with my body. Obviously, the dating slowed down during chemo (particularly the last couple of sessions), but once I was up on my feet, I started seeing men again (and I continue to see them). In fact, I've dated a lot more since being diagnosed with breast cancer than I have in the last 10 years (one of my sisters has even accused me of using the cancer to get dates). ; )

Part of this might be that I'm trying to convince myself that I'm still desirable. Part of it might be that a cancer diagnosis made me realize that I actually would like to have a long-term relationship with someone. Part of it could be that I'm simply trying to squeeze as much out of life as I can now that mortality is breathing down my neck. I don't really know.

At this point, I'm dating in the traditional sense, i.e., going out casually for movies and cocktails and such. I'm not seeing anyone steadily; I haven't met "the one" or "a one". But I have reached the point with a few guys where I've felt comfortable enough to share the breast cancer stuff. I even went out with a guy last night sans wig (I'm rocking the pixie look now), the first time I've done that. Telling men about the cancer -- and that I'm currently without boobs -- isn't easy. But it's not the end of the world. In fact, most men tell me that the thing they really love about me is my sense of humor and my energy and my personality. A few of them have also told me that I'm hot as hell with or without hair or boobs, which is also nice to hear. Cancer may have tried to rob me of my life, my sense of humor, and my sexuality, but apparently they're all still quite intact.