Ladies, I need your help. I need you to tell me I did the right thing.

I’ve never been in love.

I used to believe in soul mates and the idea that time stands still when you meet your one and only. But with age, I’ve changed my mind, and now believe an initial connection, no matter how powerful it is or how smitten it makes you, is not a conclusion, but a starting point, from where a stronger connection grows.

A few months ago, I established an initial connection with a woman at my local beachside reserve. She was talking to another woman, while her dachshund – let’s call him Teddy (not his real name) – waited impatiently for her to throw the miniature ball that sat at her feet.

I was stretching on a towel thirty metres away. Teddy, believing his human mum had forgotten about him, picked up his ball and wandered over to me. He dropped his ball in front of me, I picked it up and threw it, and he chased after it and brought it back to me.

Eventually, Teddy’s human mum – let’s call her Layla (again, not her real name) – looked down and got a minor fright that Teddy wasn’t sitting at her feet anymore. She was, however, quick to spot him hanging out with me, and came over.

‘Do you have any treats?’ she asked.

‘No, sorry, I don’t have any dog treats on me,’ I said.

‘I don’t mean for the dog; I mean for me. I like Cherry Ripes.’

The vibe between us from that point on was positive, and while it’s rare I find a woman who can keep up with me in the banter stakes, on this occasion, I was doing my best to keep up with her.

We chatted for another five minutes, the sun set, and darkness began to sweep over us, and she initiated a goodbye, ‘I better go, my wonk of a boyfriend is probably waiting for me to return, so he can tell me which of his idiot groupies learnt how to count to ten today.’

I wondered what the boyfriend did to have ‘idiot groupies that couldn’t count to ten,’ but within a split second she clarified, exposing it as yet another example of her quick wit–

‘He’s a school teacher and his groupies are a classroom full of five year old’s.’

While hearing about the ‘bf’ stung a little, I respected her for telling me, as it allowed me to know exactly where I stood. She wasn’t going to lead me on, and in turn, I wasn’t going to flirt or behave in a way that disrespected her relationship.

I returned to the beachside reserve a few days later. Layla was there with Teddy, and she came over to me.

Our second conversation started jovially like the first, but then went a bit deeper. As did our third, fourth and fifth.

What began with chatter about work, hobbies and family, progressed to me asking what her perfect wedding would look like, how many kids she’d have, and what she was going to name them?

‘What about Zendaya?’ I asked.

‘Oh no I couldn’t. Can you imagine the expectations it would put on the girl?’

‘I meant for a boy.’

And then, at the end of our fifth conversation, something strange happened. It was a flashpoint, a mutual recognition, where we both realised we were no longer within the aforementioned initial connection, but, metaphorically, were just steps away from walking through set of gates that opened to something more.

This time it was me who initiated the goodbye and began to move off. But having taken a couple of steps away from her, and away from those 'gates,' she stopped me in my tracks.

‘Do you want to maybe get coffee with me sometime?’ she asked, her voice no longer amplifying in the friendly, we’ve-hung-out-five-times tone it had been, but instead

shake-y.

I turned back and observed her facial expression, which matched the tremor in her throat. Her confident, quick-witted veneer had dropped like a sheet from a washing line, and she now looked completely vulnerable.

Within an instant, I could feel the same thing happening to me.

She was no longer talking to me as a newfound friend, but as someone wanting to explore something more, to someone (me) who also wanted to explore something more. She knew it and I knew it, and because of it, I suddenly felt exhausted. My arms and legs felt like jelly – like I’d carried 15 shopping bags up a mountain – and I knew exactly why. My whole being was working overtime as it battled what I wanted, versus what I knew was right, until finally one side overcame the other.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I said. 

I wished I could have released the weight from my shoulders and told her why, but I couldn’t. What was fairest on both of us, was that I simply said no.

She didn’t say anything, but just stood there, and gently nodded.

I whimpered one word, ‘Sorry,’ and slowly departed.

I got home and slumped on the bed. I was hurting. I let my emotions rise to the surface, and then took a 20-minute cold shower hoping the water would wash them away. Under that freezing cold water, I gritted my teeth in anger, and tried to come to terms with the decision I had made.

I knew full well why I had made it. Had I said yes to Layla’s invitation to coffee, and joined her in actively pursuing our growing connection, then I would have been taking away Layla’s boyfriend’s happiness.

And I just couldn’t do it.

I really liked her, and my feelings for her were flourishing, but selfishly pursuing my happiness at the expense of someone else’s was not the right thing to do.

You may suggest that ‘maybe she was just asking you to coffee as a friend,’ but I know she wasn’t. I can’t tell you how I know that, other than to say that because of the way things played out, I just do. 

I haven’t seen Layla since, but I’ve made no effort to. Yesterday I went back to the beachside reserve for the first time in weeks, to breathe, to stretch, to observe how I feel, and to ask myself with a clear mind if I made the right decision.

Most of me still says ‘yes.’ But a small part does say ‘no.’

Ladies, please tell me that I did the right thing.