When I began writing this blog post, I thought I could encompass most of the things I wanted to say about dating and breast cancer. It became apparent very quickly that more than one post is necessary. This entry will focus on the early days of dating after cancer.

I’ll admit that I’ve always hated dating. Girlfriends would ask, don’t you love the free meals? And all I could think was, I’d rather pay for my own steak and be with someone I know and am comfortable with. Cancer didn’t make me hate dating… it made me hate it more.

No Time To Date (The Zone)

I was 28 and single when I was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer. I looked upon people who were going through treatment and had partners with such envy. I thought they were lucky to have someone who would love and support them throughout their cancer “journey.” I’ve come to realize that this isn’t always the case – sometimes love and support don’t grow in times when you think they will. But perhaps that’s a blog for another day…

A friend tried to set me up with someone during chemo. I remember her saying, you deserve someone great. I was a bit irritated – I knew/know what I deserve. On a good day, dating is unappealing. On that day, sitting there bald and in pain, it wasn’t even an option. I was in the cancer fighting zone. Dating had no place there.

Months go by… seven brutally aggressive rounds of chemo come to an end. (yay!)
I start to thaw… (take an oncologist-approved trip to Disney World!)
Results are in and I’m a BRCA1 carrier. (well, shit)
Exactly one year goes by… mastectomy and reconstruction #2. (ouch)
I’m too scared to thaw… (so much to process)
Less than one year goes by… hysterectomy. (so. done.)

Even writing the timeline in point form exhausts me and it just shows the big picture. What I didn’t list are the plethora of tests and appointments associated with each phase. Everything listed above happened in less than two years. It doesn’t seem possible. I remember coming out of my hysterectomy and feeling completely done – with the pain, making difficult decisions and finding the silver lining in every situation.

Realizing You Haven’t Dated in a Long Time (The Thaw) 

As I emerged from the haze of cancer, I realized many of my friends were in relationships or getting married and I had missed out on what most people consider prime dating years. Just another thing cancer had taken from me – the luxury of time spent as a “normal” (almost) 30 something. I resented cancer and how it made me feel nervous and scared at the thought of having to go through unchartered dating territory on my own.

At first, I focused on how cancer made me different. I questioned how I would tell would-be boyfriends about my past and wondered how they would react. When I looked at the entire picture, dating was daunting and overwhelming.

I wallowed in self-pity for a short time. To pull myself out of it, I focused on moving forward one step at a time. Ironically, that’s exactly how I dealt with cancer treatment. I reclaimed my power and I continue to remind myself that my history is exactly that… mine. I’m free to share what I want, when I want. I made a silent promise to myself to never feel pressured to reveal my breast cancer story. After all, it’s only one part of the big picture that makes me who I am.

Dating Post-Cancer (The Shit… I mean, The Profile) 

As time went by and my mind and body healed, I figured I should get back into the dating game. I was a #survivor. I could handle dating – nothing would stop me! (Except rejection. I hate rejection.)

I knew I wouldn’t write about cancer in my online dating profile, although the thought did cross my mind. The idea of weeding out men that couldn’t handle what I’ve been through was appealing.

Side note: I don’t mean to imply that people who can’t “handle” dating someone who’s had cancer are weak or mean. Everyone has deal breakers and an image of how they see their future partner. But a man who sees my past as a burden or anything less than pure strength has no place in my heart.

All the pictures I selected for my profile were post-cancer, which meant I had short hair.  I always received the same questions – has your hair always been this short? (For a few years.) What made you cut it? (I felt like a change.)

I’ve never revealed my cancer experience before three dates with someone – it became my unwritten rule. I use that time to see if I feel enough of a connection to make me want to open up about it. Any time I have mentioned it, it never goes as planned. I develop a perfect script in my mind beforehand and practice pace and tone, but what comes out is nowhere near as composed or eloquent. My “big reveal” becomes a mini rant and normally goes something like this – “I have to tell you something I actually had breast cancer a few years ago stage two and like things are fine I’m good but I just didn’t know how to tell you so yeah if you have any questions let me know I had a few surgeries but my last major one was a few years ago so that’s nice.” I can’t help but laugh!

There has only been one time where someone online really pushed my buttons. In my profile, I list that I don’t want children. It’s more complicated than that – I can’t have children. Upon learning that I’m a BRCA1 gene carrier, I decided to have a complete hysterectomy. Someone messaged me and quickly asked “what’s with” me not wanting children. I dodged the question because, after only a few messages, my BRCA1 status is none of his business. He was aggressive and commented that I must be selfish. He wondered ”what type of person” wouldn’t aspire to build a family. There were many things wrong with his messages, aside from do you/don’t you want children. It enraged me that he believes that someone who doesn’t want children is self-centred. I wasn’t interested in an online debate, but I was tempted to explain the complexity of my situation to put him in his place. Minutes before I blocked his profile, I explained that he had no idea who I was and that, actually, I couldn’t have children. I hope he had the sense to reflect on his comments, but I doubt it.

I continued (i.e. trudged) on, but it wasn’t without hesitation. Like I said, I hate dating. And having to decide when and how to reveal this part of myself is something that doesn’t come quite as easily as I had hoped. But each interaction, no matter how fleeting, showed me a new part of myself. And for that alone I am truly grateful.

Tips for women going through this:

  • Don’t feel pressured to reveal that you had cancer (to anyone, potential bfs included).
  • Go with your gut – if you want to talk about it, talk about it. If not, don’t.
  • When discussing what you’ve been through, speak from your heart or the words won’t come out right.
  • When in doubt, remember – if they don’t honour you for what you’ve been through, they aren’t the one.
  • You’ve come this far and made it through so much. Don’t settle now.

Introducing Cassandra Umbriaco, a guest blogger for Rethink Breast Cancer. Since being diagnosed with stage two breast cancer at 28 years old, she combines her love of writing with a passion to help women affected by cancer. Check out her blog at cancerunder30.wordpress.com  

Cassandra loves travelling as much as she can, dresses that twirl, anything Disney and her little red Fiat – Luna.