I’m on vacation. I brought the children to Chicago to see some sights…and you know who’s in this town: Chi-guy! I’ve already seen him (and, sadly, he’s feeling sick)… But, oh, what a gentleman! What manners!
My children are with me, and tomorrow we have a play date planned with him and his daughter, so I have no illusions of any “adult” fun. It’s just that the energy of this city excites me — and something about Chi-guy’s dreamy energy gives me a delightfully giddy, girlie feeling!
I didn’t go on an online dating site because I want to meet new friends. Ultimately, I want to meet the man with whom I hope to spend the rest of my life. And I’d like to have fun doing it! I would like to meet someone to date, to have fun with, to enjoy a little romance.
And yet, the best relationships begin with a strong foundation of friendship…
So what does one do when there seems to mutual interest, and then one backs off and offers friendship?
It would be disingenuous for me to say that I’m looking for new friendships in this manner. Instead, getting the brush-off and then being asked to be friends feels more like being on “keep warm” or “back burner” status. In other words, not something I enjoy.
I want to be on the front burner, the burner turned to hot, feeling a little sizzle!
You’ve heard of hundred-year floods or hundred-year storms…well, today may be the day of the hundred-year cry.
A confluence of factors, including losing my favorite shades over the weekend, scaring off yet another bloke and a once-monthly flood of hormones have collided to create the ideal conditions for this sort of emotional release. In fact, it’s likely to be a necessity.
So how did I scare away the fellow you ask? Uh, not sure. I seem to be the one- or two-date queen these days (more often my choice). I suck at this dating stuff. I admit it. I haven’t dated in well over a decade. Neither did I have good relationship models in my formative years — and my last relationship was disastrous. My ex used verbal manipulations and silence to control his environment — is it any wonder my communication skills are a little rough?
In this case, I’m not sure what it was that I said…I only meant to have a quick chat, feeling bloody awful as I did with hormone brain and allergies…my mind was too foggy for any serious discussion. And serious this gentleman is. It seemed he suddenly realized, though I said so before, that I am a mostly full-time parent…and then he was backpedaling: I could call him when I have time, I could call him when my vibrator batteries run out (this was actually quite funny at the time, based on an earlier joke in our conversation), maybe we could be friends…after all, seems I don’t really have time to date…
What did I say? Probably too much, as usual. And probably not the right things to keep him interested. Somehow I failed to spit out:
Perhaps more importantly, I’m not sure I conveyed a level of enthusiasm on par with his own. And then it faded…
Why? Well…I’m scared and I’m out of practice. I’ve never been in sales. My heart got broken. It’s healed bigger and more open than it was before. But it’s still a little tender and I’m still a little guarded. I am trying. And I find it difficult to show my true feelings so early. I don’t want to seem over-eager or desperate. But I am trying to be present and open and take the right kind of risks. I suppose there’s something in this that seems like game-playing, though I have neither the intent nor skill.
I know this guy’s done me a favor by opting out early. I respect and appreciate that. Still, there’s a little part of me that feels like I’ve failed…again. I wanted to get past the “interview” stage, to get to the hand-holding and tender touches, to connect, to feel a man’s soft lips touch mine, and to experience regular conversation and touch that I’ve been missing for so long. Something that seemed so natural for so much of my youth seems so elusive now, particularly in the bizarre, forced world of online dating. Another opportunity slipped away…
And that’s why this won’t be your run-of-the-mill monthly release; it’s going to be a serious cathartic experience.
It’s been an interesting week, so I’ll share a few highlights:
…getting to know all about you, getting to like you, getting to hope you like me… I love this song and the musical it’s from, The King and I. Dating is supposed to be about having fun and getting to know people — hopefully, eventually getting to know someone special.
So this may sound kind of weird: I schedule the kind of dates with guys that are the most low-pressure, the least likely to have any sort of romantic element, that are…well…mundane. Frankly, I think that’s the best way to get to know someone, to see if they can make fun out of nothing, to see if running errands can be entertaining, to see how they navigate everyday life. I enjoy conversation, making fun with words and dialogue, and seeing how my date behaves toward clerks in stores and hospitality workers and strangers asking directions on the street.
I don’t think I did this “boring date” thing consciously at first…I mean, when you’re just getting back out there, you don’t give some guy you’ve never met your Saturday night anyway, right? But I’m starting to see other advantages to this preference.
Consider The Bachelor or The Bachelorette, for example: put a girl on the island of Bora Bora and I can guarantee you she’ll fall in love with one of the attractive men around. The setting alone is enough to create a kind of euphoria, and then there are all these singles, who have nothing else to do but look lovely and woo… Everything is lovey-dovey until they’re off the island, off the show, and back in real life…where it all falls apart. These relationships — infatuations built on scenery and alcohol and candlelight and once-in-a-lifetime adventures — are destined to fail. So I’d like to have a slightly clearer view of reality before I let my heart get carried away.
Don’t get me wrong — I love the candlelight and romance and all, and I want those incredible adventures, too, in time. But I want it to unfold naturally, because it’s something we both want…not because of the scenery.
So that same chap who suggested I’m over-analyzing all of this, well, he said something…I should say emailed (and, heavens! I do much prefer to actually talk in my relationships — phones are okay, but nothing beats the face to face!) that has me thinking. I haven’t been obsessing over him or anything he’s said, mind you; I was merely meditating last night as I was drifting off and had one of those flashes of clarity that made me go “hmmm.”
First, let me reiterate that I don’t normally share my blogging habit with men to whom I’m attracted. This one, more-like-it (in case you hadn’t guessed), just seemed open enough, strong enough, in the sort of field where he gets the whole creative process thing. It sort of slipped out, I guess. I was hopeful that he wouldn’t take it very seriously…after all, I don’t.
So we’d been flirting a bit and he’d offered to give me a massage sometime…never followed through…and so, in his email, he mentioned that he’s really tempted, but hesitant because he thinks I might interpret that as… And here’s where I have this incredible clarity around the situation:
You may recall that I’ve been through the whole marriage counseling thing — and with a counselor who had an excellent reputation. Still, after going through sessions, being called out on my bad behavior and watching as my ex was called on little or none of his…I actually ended up going to individual counseling to deal with the marriage counseling. It would go like this: We’d have an acrimonious couples’ counseling session in the evening. The next day, at noon, I’d talk with our counselor on the phone to try to re-interpret or process what had happened the night before. (This was great — I got all kinds of juicy information during these talks — but nothing that helped us with our marriage, only stuff that confirmed why it was unlikely to ever really work.) And then I’d go see my own counselor to work on myself and try to get over what felt like an emotional hangover from the couples’ counseling.
My point in recounting this is that I have professional advice as a basis from which to say it… The single biggest take-away I got from my counselor was this: I am responsible for my happiness. I am not responsible for my partner’s happiness. In fact, she went so far as to say, “It’s your job to make him do the right thing.” And I asked, “Even if he resents me for it?” She replied, “How he reacts is not your responsibility. Let him feel resentful. At least in the end he will have done the right thing.”
This may seem obvious to any emotionally healthy adult but, at the time, I was so in the weeds of my unhealthy relationship that it was a revelation. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t have to try to “make” this man (who was depressed and perpetually unable to be happy) happy. I moved forward, worked on myself, took care of the home and children as best I could, and began implementing those boundaries I’ve written about. I’m not saying I did this all “right” or anything, just that I got the concept.
So, while I can appreciate a man who respects me enough not to want to mislead me, the concern might be a little misplaced. Just ’cause some attractive man is rubbin’ on me doesn’t mean I’m going to let the situation venture into something that feels uncomfortable to me. It’s not his responsibility to worry about how I might interpret or react…because, finally, I’ve learned enough to say with conviction: I’m a big girl…I got my back.
It was recently suggested to me (by an attractive man) that I might be over-analyzing all of this relationship stuff… I suppose that could be a fair supposition for a reader to make. Here, I’ll share part of my response…
“Indulge me as I share a story:
When I was pregnant with my daughter and began (around the 7th month) to feel the sheer panic that comes with the realization that this lovely little floaty bubble of bliss would, at some point burst, and then a head the size of a cantaloupe was going to come out of (and would likely tear to shreds) a much smaller hole / passageway…I went to the birthing classes and watched the reality birth stories on TLC. One thing I observed was that so many women would, in a moment of contraction agony, utter: “I can’t do this.” And I remember thinking they were ridiculous! I mean, we’re women, our bodies are MADE for this! I had my doula, my (drug-free) natural birthing plan, my body had been in the best shape of my entire life when I got pregnant, and — even though I was occasionally visited by the sheer terror I mentioned earlier — I was confident that I would be champ at labor and birth.
Fast forward to several hours into labor, when the pain got ahead of me and I could no longer ride it like a wave, and I could no longer relax or rest between contractions…this is the thought that came into my head: “I can’t do this.” And I thought it for a bit, meanwhile putting on my brave face and trying not to clamp my jaws together on the nearest arm and finally I, too, like those women on the shows, uttered those words, “I can’t do this.” Predictably, everyone around me jumped in with, “Yes you can!”s and other encouragement…but words or encouragement weren’t what I needed. What I needed was to speak my doubt aloud, release it of its power and move on…
I guess my blog is kind of like that. I don’t over-analyze everything…I think it, write it, release it and move on. Yes, there are areas of my life in which I’ve tried to be intentional…and then released those thoughts out into the universe. I’m probably more introspective and self-aware than many, likely more honest and bare…and that’s what I needed to do with this — I needed to explore being honest with myself, being completely vulnerable and to commit to writing all the time. (Frankly, I’ve had enough of this failed relationship introspection already — I’m ready to get out and live again!) Meanwhile, this space is also a great venue in which to cop a bit of a diva attitude that I rarely display in real life. So…if you’re going to read it, please try not to read too much into the very limited view it might offer…
While there are certain things that I’ve shared here that remain true — e.g. I do, at some point…maybe a few years in the future… want to be in a life-affirming, committed relationship — what I think I’m ready for has changed constantly since I began writing about it. One day, I think it would be peachy to find a lover who is willing to explore and share new heights of pleasure, and who might also be a confidante. Another day, I find I’m holding back my natural sensuality because I don’t want to lead with physical attraction, I want to find an emotional connection. And at another time, I think the most lovely thing in the world would be to enjoy a conversation, maybe hold hands, maybe smooch a little (okay, not gonna lie, a make-out session sounds spectacular!). I want adventure! Or a little candlelight and some romance! I’m making peace with all of the different aspects of myself and integrating my energy. I feel lighthearted and playful and whole in way that I can’t claim to have felt in years. It’s wonderful…I’m living in the present moment. And I feel amazing!
My entire adult life has been lived in shades of gray, sometimes with too few guard rails… After being pretty lost for a bit, grasping for anything that seemed solid, while being conscious about what I’m trying to create, I am wide open to allowing things to unfold, to “let go to the mystery”…in fact, I’d prefer to be surprised. At this moment, I have no pre-conceived notions about what my next relationship might be like or how long it will last…I can only suspect (given my parenting schedule), that it’s likely to unfold slowly. And that’s okay with me. I’m navigating moment to moment… Whatever I think I might want in the long run, the only way to move forward is to take small steps — meeting people, going out, having fun…”
Then I wrote that I have fun with him…and to please not mistake reading the blog for experiencing / knowing the woman who writes it.
What do you think of that, my kind readers?
I had a lovely little IM exchange with a gent I know the other day…this is the man who has a crush on me, but is married. Apparently, “the fam” left him alone in town while they took a little summer vacation. Meanwhile, my family is also away. And I think he was trying to feel me out or make a play to see if I might venture into forbidden territory with him…
We chatted (all while accomplishing scads of other tasks, I’m sure, being it was during the work day and all!) about morality, ethics and the very slight nuance of meaning that distinguishes them (please feel free to consult your unabridged dictionary here, as I shall not pursue a deep dive into this portion of the discussion).
Having had some experience with decidedly immoral behaviors in my past, I am not one to judge too harshly others’ behavior or situations. However, I do have a pretty firm view of what I believe to be right and wrong based on my own experience (as much as any moral code). That said, I’m friends with many married guys with whom I share chemistry or attraction, and we still continue to behave as friends — i.e. go out for lunch or drinks, or chat on the phone once in a while, etc. So this fellow and I flirted around with the idea of catching up for a drink…with me thinking this would be a great time to get really clear with him about what I think is in bounds and what is clearly out-of-bounds as it relates to me, the divorcee, and him, the married dude.
Based on the flavor of his text messages, however, it was becoming clear that he was thinking catching up for a drink would be a great time to cross one or more of those lines I’d drawn, or was planning to draw, in the sand. And so I told him we could have a drink if he could behave…to which he respectfully declined, offering me instead (once more) the opportunity for all of the pleasure with none of the commitment.
“That always sounds so good to a man,” I replied. And there are ways in which I can see why they’d think this would also sound good to a woman…particularly given all the research suggesting women get the short end of the stick in marriage. (Egad, I do always talk in clichés!) Yet I wonder if his wife knows that she’s in an open marriage?
Our conversation concluded with him asking me whether my stance was a moral or ethical decision. My reply? Neither. Even if it’s only about pleasure, even if I’m not at this moment seeking commitment, I still have no desire to engage in any sort of relationship-like arrangement with a fellow I can’t call when I want to, who can’t jet off with me to New York for the weekend or who can’t/won’t introduce me to his friends. It goes right back to the issue of availability. It just doesn’t interest me…no matter how horny I am. That’s why I’ve got Doc Johnson, after all…
My position has nothing to do with morals or ethics…it has to do with what I wrote about a couple of weeks ago: keeping my eyes on the prize — and about self-worth. I now simply value myself too much to become entangled in something that leaves me emotionally empty and bereft, a situation that puts me at risk for no emotional up side. And it feels good to own it and to value myself enough to stand firm…no matter how tempting the thought might be…because I can get my pleasure without commitment elsewhere, should I decide to.
I love the story in Elizabeth Gilbert’s Committed in which she talks about making a list of her greatest faults for her beloved, to ensure he knows what he’s getting in to. And so, below, I think I’ll give it a crack…because…
In the case that you were the one, I’d want you to know some things about me. I mean, I’m far from perfect. And I think you should have a clear idea of what you’re getting in to before we talk commitment:
I recently came across an article about the trend toward over-the-top marriage proposals, events that require significant planning on the part of the would-be groom. The stories were lavish, creative and required extensive planning. And some of them were ridiculous.
But I don’t want to criticize, because I think proposals should be planned — they should be thoughtful. Or spontaneous. In other words, they should be individual and personal. And a proposal is a great way for a man to shine, whereas the wedding is all about the bride.
As for my proposal: When I was finally ready for marriage, it took several months for the love of my life to catch up…even though we already had a home and two children together. I feel a deep sense of shame as I confess that my ex was so cheap that he was surprised to learn that I wanted a ring.
He actually first proposed one night when we were out with another couple. His demeanor toward me had been so hostile that the couple we were with thought it was a joke. He ignored me or was rude toward me for much of the evening, and then he pulled out a gauche “drag queen” ring — the kind with an adjustable band that became popular about a year later. Needless to say, I requested a do-over (with a ring I might actually be inclined to wear). Lest I sound like a complete asshole (and maybe I am), we had gone out and looked at rings together. He knew exactly the style I was hoping for, as well as my ring size (and the budget we had discussed). He knew I was hoping for a little romance.
So let’s get back to the proposal, part deux, months later: My mother was watching the children and my guy was going to take me out to dinner “somewhere special, somewhere we’d had drinks but not dinner.” We pulled up…and the restaurant was closed. So then we decided to go to a Thai place that we’d frequented before children. His proposal was interrupted by a server bringing out some egg rolls. In other words, there was little forethought and absolutely no planning put into what I had hoped would be a special and romantic memory for us to reminisce about for years to come. He hadn’t bothered to call and make a reservation, nor ordered champagne. I tried to be thrilled and delighted at this dream-come-true but, in my heart, I felt hurt that he hadn’t put thought or effort into creating something special. And, in the end, it was another in a long chain of disappointments.
Maybe some of you, maybe especially the guys, will read this and think that it’s my own foolish expectations that got me into this mess. But who among us doesn’t hope for a little romance? My desires were not unrealistic; my demands not too great…I left a great deal of my heart open to possibility, open to allowing myself to be surprised. Alas, it was not to be.
So cheers to those guys with the elaborate schemes. I’m sure the women in their lives will appreciate the thoughtfulness and planning, and they will have a story to share and remember for many years to come.
the life and loves of Alisa B 