First Time is the Hardest

The summer when I was 6 years old, I broke my wrist. It was a pretty bad break and it happened while I was playing with some older kids in my neighborhood who I couldn’t keep up with very well. They knew they’d get in trouble if their mom found out I’d gotten hurt, so they convinced me not to make a sound while they walked me home. And I didn’t – I walked with my right hand holding my broken wrist bones of my left hand still and didn’t make a sound for about a block until I saw my older brother and finally burst into tears. From there much drama and excruciating pain ensued as I was whisked to the emergency room and separated from my parents and poked by unfriendly doctors and shoved under scary machines. When I got home, with my full arm cast and my powder blue sling I was in a state of shock and my mom made me a little cocoon on the couch and I stayed there for a couple of days before venturing to a cocoon on my bed.

Looking back on this episode now, I realize that the most traumatic part of it was the shock  of learning that my body could a) break, and b) playing could result in an inconcievable amount of pain and confusion and stress. I stayed in my cocoon on the couch for days because I was averse to any movement. My whole understanding and conception of the world had shifted — it was now a place where playing could result in great calamity and pain. My 6 year old brain could not fully process what my body had been through – I had no context for it.  How was I now supposed to navigate a world in which these things could happen? How could I go back to playing now that my eyes had been opened to the risks? Clearly, staying on the couch was better.

Eventually I ventured forth from the cocoon, but only to play cautiously by myself in the house. Of my entire childhood that’s the only period where I have memories of playing alone – without at least one of my brothers involved. One day I was playing with some toys and I had this little pink rubber dog that I was filling with water – I think it would spit water if you squeeze it or something. I accidentally dribbled a little bit of water on my cast and I went nuts. The doctor had a made a really big deal about the fact that I could never get the cast wet. I start to scream and in my mind’s eye I can clearly see myself holding my cast out in front of me staring at it wide eyed and wondering what the repercussion was going to be now that it had gotten wet, I’m sure on some level I was convinced it would be more awful pain. My older brother came bounding up the stairs followed by my mother to see what I had done to result in my shrieking, and I remember my brother’s relieved face when he realized that nothing that bad had happened. He and my mom explained to me that it wasn’t enough water to do any damage, and when nothing had changed on my cast after a few minutes I reluctantly believed them that I was fine.

I wouldn’t let anyone write or draw on my cast for weeks, afraid that it would unbalance the new relationship I’d come to with my arm – I kept it very still and it didn’t cause me any more pain. When I got the cast off, my arm was all shriveled and gross. I remember coming back from the doctors and my mom demanding that I go outside and find someone to play with  – the time for hiding was done. Time to learn how to use my arm again, and how to trust that I could play, and ride my bike and be with my brothers like I used to without falling apart. I started by enjoying grossing people out with my shriveled little arm, and in no time was back to my normal, pre-broken arm place. Except. Except for my new knowledge of the ways in which my body could betray me – could cause unimaginable pain and debilitation without warning.

For some reason, this story has been on my mind a lot lately, and I couldn’t figure out why until last night.  Last night I hung out with two good friends and then another new friend who is a cute single man. So because  he was a was cute single man, as soon as he left, we started talking about him as prospect for someone I could date. (At this point, I’m interested in getting to know him better, and that’s all I’ll commit to right now). But in the course of the conversation I had to imagine, in more detail than I have so far, dating someone new: Going on dates, going throught the process of letting him get to know me, and having to get ot know him, and all of the pitfalls and summits that come with that processes. And I suddenly felt nauseated in a way I haven’t since that that day I was dumped and spent a week throwing up. And I was surprised, b/c I’ve been dating for a LONG time, and I know the process, and sometimes it sucks and sometimes I have more energy for it than others, but I’ve never wanted to throw up at the idea of a simple date.

And then I realized, up until recently, that’s all been just playing. And then I fell, and I broke something, and I learned how much pain and drama and calamity can result from just playing. And like the experience when I was 6, the most salient point is the shock that that kind of pain can come from inside my body, and the sense that I won’t be able to anticipate or stop it from happening next time.  

Which of course isn’t true. After I got my cast off, I was a little more careful with how I played, and with whom. And I when I got hurt again it didn’t seem as bad, because my baseline had shifted and my context for pain had grown. And I suppose the same will be true for dating now.

But you know what else? I was having a lot of fun right before I fell, both times, and I’ll probably still be seduced by that kind of fun in the future. I just probably won’t be as shocked if calamity follows.

 

A Single Frustration

In one (or perhaps) more of my blogs post-Army Guy-break-up, I talked about how I didn’t care about being single again – that that wasn’t part of my upset about the break up. But don’t think I was totally honest with myself.

I don’t actually care about being single, in the sense that I don’t mind spending time alone, going to events alone, I don’t fear I’ll spend my life alone, I don’t feel like being in a relationship will make me a better/fuller/more complete person.

What I don’t like about being single, is having to identify with the cultural subgroup of “single women over the age of 30.” Mostly because I don’t actually identify with many members of that subgroup, exactly for the reasons I just outlined above. I’m not judging people who do dislike being single, who do feel like their lives would be better/fuller/more complete if they were in a relationship. I definitely don’t judge them because in those brief moments when I was with AG I saw the advantages to being in a relationship. Its just that I see those advantages as bonuses, not necessities for happiness.

What I don’t like about being part of this subgroup is the way other people react to me/treat me/view me. I feel like most people see being single (especially people who aren’t single) as a condition that needs to be addressed.

I’m not saying I don’t want to date or be in a relationship. And I appreciate efforts by my friends to help me find men to choose from…to a point. I’m not even sure where that line is, where it goes from being helpful to being annoying, but its definitely a fine line.

I hate the expectation that “finding a man” is always my top priority, that it is (or should be) what dictates my social activities, my dress, my behavior in general. I hate the pressure and the expectations that come from those for whom that is their top priority or who can’t understand why it isn’t mine.

Sometimes I really enjoy being single, sometimes I hate it, and most of the time I’m just content with what is. Sometimes I enjoy the act of dating and sometimes I hate it, and I don’t really know what makes the difference. Sometimes I wish I was in a relationship JUST so I could be part of that club, be part of the cultural majority, instead of this subgroup. Just for a change. Just to see what that would be like.

 

Tuesday

Somehow, the below blog didn’t get published – i must have gotten distracted before I actually hit the publish button. So even though its a little old, i’m publishing it anyway, just because I can’t stand the idea of deleting it after I spent time on it.

————–

 

 

I had planned to have today be the “first day of the rest of my life” (i couldn’t find a non-cliché way of saying that). I had set today as the day because yesterday I finished with a big, yucky client that was the last hold-over from my “old” life.

I probably should have know that today wasn’t the best “launching” day because I always feel like a big pile of crap the day after an event and today is no exception. It doesn’t matter how well the event went, I always feel blah.

But also, and this i didn’t see coming, I seem to have taken a step backward in my attempts to get over Army Guy. Actually I don’t know if backward is the right word, I’m just not over it yet. I’m usually over it much faster than this. I did have a revelation recently though, which might explain it. In general I’ve been pretty unhappy with my life as of late. In august, had a mini-break down over it with my parents, decided on some changes. Came back to my life, and started trying to make the changes, hit some roadblocks, accepted some distractions, and didn’t really achieve a whole hell of a lot. And then I met Army Guy.

The main motivation for staying the course of making a life change was that I was unhappy. Army Guy made me happy. Motivation for change…changed. Which isn’t to say a roadblock -  he was all for the change – he cooked up a plot that had me spending a significant amount of my time writing. I like the idea of that – of the writing, but also of him supporting me in doing that. For the first time, I kinda got the idea of what it would be like to have a “partner” in my life. So its not like I let go of the plan just because I met him. But the urgency, the sense of desperation that I’d felt previously was gone b/c the heightened sense of misery was gone. He made me happy. He gave me a million little bright spots throughout my crappy day. So much so that I hardly noticed how crappy my day was. If I was in a frustrating meeting, or stuck in traffic, or stressing over getting all my work done, at minimum I just had to think of him and I’d feel better. At best, I’d have an email, a phone call, or a plan to see him to get me through. Rushing to get work/housework/ errands done so I could have time to see him: easy. Rushing to get work/housework/errands done just so I can do more work/housework/errands: crappy.

Yesterday/last night at my event, every time something happened that stressed me out, or upset me or made me feel too tired to do another thing, my mind cast around for something good to think about – sort of like forcing yourself to eat your veggis by picturing the piece of cake you’ll get afterward. But there as no cake waiting at the end of my day. Just an empty apartment, a car full of shit that has to get unloaded, and a pile of work to attend to. And everytime my mind cast out looking for the “cake”, I thought of him, then remembered he’s not my bright spot anymore, and felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. This happened so many times over the course of the 14 hour event, that by the evening I was literally physically ill – as if i had actually been kicked in the stomach 37 times. (which mean a perfectly good dinner of crab cakes was wasted – BUT on the bright side, the venue had really nice bathrooms).

This sounds so pathetically “without a man my life is worthless” I want to kick myself in the head. But that’s not it. It just turns out that the thing that was my bright spot was a guy. Its an easy bright spot to have – lots of emotion and hormones make it a good pick me up.

I don’t want it to sound like I have nothing in my life that I enjoy or that I’m grateful for. I have so many wonderful people in my life, a fact I’ve been reminded of so many times recently. And I’m not sure why being aware of my blessings isn’t enough right now. In an attempt to be logical and avoid being any more dramatic, the only answer I can come up with that I miss?/want?/need? the adrenaline rush that comes from something new and fun in my life like a new man, which in honesty has been my drug of choice for years. But I’m also older, and my heart really is broken, and I just don’t have it in me to run out and find a fling to distract me like I did in my 20’s. But I think that if i can find something else to focus on, follow my own break-up advice and find a project to focus on, something that makes me happy, even if just a little bit, I might do better.

And I think if i keep reminding myself that I’m missing the symbolic role that AG had in my life, more than him personally (which on some level is definitely true), that should help.

_________Post Script____________

Before I could post this blog, I had to take a conference call and then I went on a walk and in general now I feel much better about everything, more specifically I feel more able to face the rest of my life – whatever that is. Mornings seem to be my “bad time”, so maybe I shouldn’t blog when I first get up A few minutes ago, I was looking through some pictures to find new ones to put on my eHarmony site (onward and upward!), and I came across some pictures of me and AG, and while I had a slightly nauseated feeling, I didn’t throw up, or cry, and I think that’s an improvement. And then I deleted all of those pictures.

 

Progressing

I’m starting to feel better. I’m starting to feel more like myself for the first time. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it hasn’t been all that long, but it has felt like a LONG time. I hate feeling bad, I hate feeling sad, I hate feeling like my emotions control me. I hate that, and fear that, more than almost anything I can think of. 

This morning I woke up and didn’t give in to the impulse to think of him. For the first time since I met him I didn’t immediately go look at my phone to see if there was an email from him. I’ve been awake for an hour and still haven’t looked, which is partly about him, and partly about managing my stress in general. I was hungry this morning and I cooked and ate an egg, which is the most substantial meal I’ve had since wednesday night – and I think its gonna stay in me too! So I’m just focusing on right now, on eating, on sipping my coffee, on writing a blog before I dive into all that awaits for me today.

I’m even feeling a little…I don’t want to say excited, but ready for my event on monday. As I was cooking my egg I thought to myself “yeah, lets knock this damn thing out of the park.” Which is the attitude I must have to get through such a huge and multi-faceted event, and it was the attitude that I couldnt’ access this week and that was stressing me out.

I’m not sure what made the difference today – if it was just passage of time, or the fact that he and I exchanged another round of emails yesterday with more explanations and processing, or the conversation I had last night with a friend I’ve had for 20 years where we talked about the new direction I want to take my life in. Actually, I think that conversation might have a lot to do with me feeling better today.

One of the ways in which Army Guy hooked me in was in his insistance that I should be a writer. He saw the ability, the potential in me and expressed it in a way no one ever really had before – not as a vague “you’re a good writer” way, but a concrete “you must do this as a vocation. Let’s talk about how you make that happen in a concrete way.” I liked the way he saw me, I liked how sure he was that I could do it. That was one of the things, in talking to my friend last night, that I said was hard to let go of.

But last night she, this friend of 20 years, expressed the same vision and the same faith in me, and I realized that I didn’t need this man, this virtual stranger to help me to see who I could be. In fact it meant a lot more coming from her because not only has she known me since we were pre-teens, but she’s an extremely practical person and if she thinks giving up my company to try to earn a living as a writer is doable, than it must be. In many many ways I’m closer to her than my actual sisters, and I can believe in what she sees in me, much more than I believed in what Army Guy saw.

She and I talked about my future, my new future. The one I had started to map out this past August. The one that will take me away from running a business, away from trying to be an executive which has caused me to segment my life – “professional” over here, “creative” over there. She’s the first person I’ve really talked about this change with. Some of my other friends have heard pieces of it, but I haven’t mapped it the actual vision with anyone since coming up with it months ago. I don’t know why, other than perhaps an unconcious fear that these friends, who knew me as a business owner, wouldn’t be able to accept or understand the new plan and would make me doubt myself. It all keeps going back to my need, or at least instinct to segment myself.

Army Guy was the first man who saw “creative” first, and actually was only just about to get a glimpse of “corporate”…Maybe that was part of the cosmic plan. I was sliding back into professional – I was pushing writing aside (as I’ve done my whole life) as work that had been scarce started to flow. I was sliding back into super stressed, 70 hour work weeks with no fullfillment or purpose other than cashing checks (which I know is no small thing. But its not everything.)

The last time I saw him before he left for his trip, the trip where this other chic emailed him and started the unraveling, I was trying to talk to him about my fears at getting sucked back into the corporate life style. I wanted him to say “don’t do it. Fight it. Stay on the new path, everything will be ok.” But he didn’t. He said “you can’t pass up money,” and “You know what you need to do? Organize your objectives and goals for the next 18  months and then work to accomplish them.” It was an unsatisfying answer to say the least, and I remember thinking “ok, fine. We’ll let him see what i’m like when I’m ‘corporate girl’ and see if he’s sings a different tune.” And then he was plucked away, and maybe that’s why – he wasn’t going to help me make this change in my life afterall, he was perhaps nothing more than a sign, a signal in the road (as I suggested previously, a spirit guide of sorts) meant to help illuminate part of the path. AND, the reason he had to go now, at this stressful and busy time of my life, was maybe to remind me of just how much I don’t like this lifestyle. If he had dumped me next week, it would have sucked in all the same emotional and psychic ways, but I wouldn’t have also had to juggle so many professional comitments and be reminded of just how burnt out on it all I am, and just how little satisfaction or joy I get from doing this kind of work. It seems like all of the major turning points in my life have been forced by extremely dramatic or traumatic events, so maybe I just keep needing a cosmic slap in the face to get me moving.

A cosmic slap in the face. Yeah, I think that’s as good a description of this week as any.

I’m not fooling myself into thinking that I’m not still gonna feel like crap at points over the next couple of days, but I think I’ve turned a corner. I think yesterday was the worst of it (I hope.) I’m focusing on Tuesday – Tuesday will be the start of the rest of my life, my new life (I’ll write another post about what the new life will look like later. Right now both of my blackberry’s – yes I have two blackberrys. Yes I’m one of THOSE people. But only on the surface – are blinking at me, and I need to dive into my day.) But I’ve made it  90 minutes this morning without feeling like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. So I’ve got that going for me.

 

Small Comfort

I was doing ok today, overall. I was processing quickly, and I was having revelations about myself and I was finding the lessons and I was doing ok. I was intellectualizing. I was focusing on the fact that I’m not scared to be single, I’m not mourning the loss of the relationship, but the loss of him. Army Guy.

He sent me something of an apology/explanation email today. And I sat on it for several hours, going through my day and turning it over in the back of my mind, trying to decide what, if anything, to write back. Late this afternoon I finally sat down and wrote a long email back. I said everything I wanted to say, and I felt good. Better than I’d felt in a few days actually, because I’d known something was wrong for a couple of days. And I kept that good feeling with me for a while. And I talked to my brother and processed intellectually. And I had dinner with a girlfriend, and I processed intellectually. And I talked about him. And I see now that that was an act of keeping him with me for a little while longer. And my girlfriend and I got off the topic of him and my relationship specifically and we started talking about abstract concepts of war and politics and the military as an institution. Her boyfriend is military, and we talked about what she knew from him and I talked about what I knew from Army Guy and it was a good conversation because it let me invoke him in an abstract way, but it let me keep him with me a little while longer. And I felt good. I felt whole for the first time since he told me he couldn’t see me anymore.

And then we exhausted that topic of conversation, and we talked about a few other things, and then my phone rang, and I didn’t take the call, but I remembered my phone – my blackberry, with email. And for so many weeks that blackberry has been my main connection to him. For so many weeks I’ve pulled up the email screen with only one thought “Will there be an email from him?.” This was my thought when he was here and we emailed several times a day because it was always a bright spot to get an email from him – to see what funny, or sweet, or interesting thing he had to share. And I thought this when he was traveling and I got intermittent emails because it was my connection to him. And I looked at my blackberry tonight, and I knew there would be no email from him. I knew, without doubt, he would not reply to my email b/c he has made a decision and he will commit to that decision and follow through on it in the way that Army Guys do.

And yet, a pang of disapointment when I scrolled through my emails and didn’t see his name. And then the pang became consuming, and I started to shake. There will never be another email from him him. There will never be another phone call, there will never be any more Army Guy. And I realized that the feeling I was having, the sort of anxious, nervous, itchy feeling, was the feeling I got when I was waiting for an email from him when he was off the grid or traveling. And I realized that I had a window of time where I could go without contact with him before I went into withdrawl.

I’ve developed a dependency on him – not literally, but emotionally. I can only go a few hours before I need a hit. I fooled myself today – I carried the unopened email for 2 hours. I contemplated my response for 4 hours. I spent an hour writing the response and 2 hours talking about him. I was tricking myself into thinking I still had him. But the empty blackberry reminded me of the truth. And I was literally in withdrawl. Shaking. Heart racing. Eyes burning. Itchy on the inside.  Its ridiculous. Its withdrawl. Its heartbreaking and aweful.

I wish my biggest issue was a fear or sadness at being single, because there are things to be done about that. Plans to be made to find another man. If all I wanted was another man to fill the void, I could have an action plan and that I could focus on to get me through the next few days.

But I don’t want any man. I want him. I want his deep brown eyes, and the shoulder that fit my head so perfectly. I want his soft voice with the twinge of southern drawl on the phone tomorrow morning teasing me about “sleeping in” until 8:30. I want to know what he thinks about the debates, and I want to hear the laughter in his voice when he provokes me with a conservative statement. I want to see him in his khaki t-shirt sitting on the edge of my bed while he laces up his boots before work. I want him. And he doesn’t want me. And there is a part of me that accepts that, and a part of me that just doesn’t. That doesn’t understand how he could walk away so easily. I know, because he’s army guy, that he was faced with a decision, he bulleted the salient points for each side, made a decision and acted on it. Its an adaptive skill that every career soldier developes. It is literally a survival skill. I get that intellectually. But emotionally, I can’t accept that. I think he’s crazy. I think he made a mistake, not just b/c I’m the jilted one, but because I think he made the decision for the wrong reasons and in the wrong way. In his own words, it had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the fact that he had invested more time into that relationship and had an opportunity for a do-over, and he was taking it. Nothing to do with me. How does that make sense? And how is that fair to her? And how is that going to work? And why do I care? I care because I care about him, and i can’t just turn it off. I’m afraid that he’s making a mistake and he’s going to regret it. And because I know that if that were to be the case, he would not be able to come back. I would not let him. But he knows that, and so he won’t try to come back. If it doesn’t work with this girl, I’ll never know. And its probably better that way.

I’m rambling. I’m intellectualizing, because it makes the shaking stop and distracts me from the feeling that something is missing from me. Its an actual feeling like I’ve misplaced my phone or my keys. But its just him that’s missing.

If i’m honest, I’d predict this will only last another day or so. I’d say its exaggerated b/c i only had about 4 restless hours of sleep last night and that if I sleep well tonight tomorrow will be better. It has to be. I have work to do. I have to get back to my life.

 

Single Disappointment

I’ve been busy lately, and have gotten behind on my blogging. I was working on a really intellectual blog about the concept of collective joy and concerts, and then it transitioned into a discussion of my fears at being in a new relationship and how I was afraid I was short changing him by bringing my baggage from past (bad) relationships into this relationship. This relationship – the one where he kept telling me that he wasn’t like the other guys. That I could trust him. He wouldn’t hurt me. At the time I thought, “yeah right.” And I wasn’t just being cynical. I’ve dated guys who have said those exact same words before breaking my heart. And turns out, Army Guy is no exception. Except in the way that he is.

He’s an exception because he was the most mature, most intelligent, most reliable man I’d dated. He was an exception because he didn’t just say the right words, he did the right things, right up until the end.

He came over to dump me in person. Cause that’s what good guys do. He was nice enough to let me look at his face, that beautiful face that I will never see again, while he told me that he had started talking to a past girlfriend this week. This past week, while he’s been in Greece. While he was in Greece, and I was sitting here, missing him, and hating the experience of missing him, and convincing myself that this was part of being in a relationship, taking the good with the bad. While i was doing that, he was in Greece reconnecting via email with his old girlfriend.

He came over and I knew immediately that something was wrong. And yet, I didn’t immediately think it was over. I thought there was a problem with work, that he was going to have to go away again. (Look how trusting I became!). I asked him what was wrong, and got a look, and he said “lets sit down”. And I still didn’t think it was over, until he said “I suck at this.” Then I knew.

I told him to just spill it. He said “I don’t know if I mentioned much about the girl I was seeing a few months ago.” I didn’t say anything (would it have mattered if he HAD mentioned her?). He said that he’d “fucked that relationship up royaly”. And she wanted to give it another chance. He said “if i seemed distant this week (and he had), that’s why.”

He had told me this past saturday that he was coming back on tuesday morning. This morning (tuesday) he emailed to tell me he’d driven back early this morning and was at work. Tonight, while sitting on my couch, he told me he’d driven back last night and had gone to meet her “Just for drinks. Nothing happened.” (Would it matter at this point?)

At that point I phased out a little. I stared at him, at that face that I loved to look at. At that Army uniform that had once freaked me out and had become comforting, I looked at him and I thought I’m never going to look at that face again. I’m never going to feel those camo clad arms around me again.

And then I heard him say “I told her I was seeing someone, and I didn’t know if i could walk away from her. And then we met for drinks…”

And that was all I needed to hear. Because clearly, he could walk away from me, that was the bottome line, the punch line to the story. And I didn’t need to hear him say it. I didn’t need to hear why she was better than me. Why I’m someone you walk away from and she’s not.

So I stood up and said…something. I don’t really remember. It was something along the lines of “Ok, fine.” I think he tried to say something, maybe that he was sorry, and I think I said something like “whatever. I have work to do.” I remember walking to my desk and sitting down, with my back to the door. I remember thinking that I wasn’t going to let him see me cry. I sat at my computer as I heard the door close and the leaves crunch as he walked to his car, and I heard the distinctive sound of his sports car’s engine start up and that’s when I lost it.

I went back to my bedroom and called one of my friends and was sobbing before I’d even hit send. All I could think, all I could say as I waited for her to come over was “OH MY GOD. Oh my god.”

And as I told the story to the second friend to come over, I realized that I didn’t care about being single again. I never minded being single. I mind that he’s not in my life anymore. I got into a relationship because of him, because of his sense of humor, his intelligence, his deep chocolate colored eyes that I loved to look into (and I am NOT a “gazing into each other’s eyes” kind of girl). I stopped being single because I sat across a table from him at a mexican restaurant and I thought “i would be safe in those arms.” And that’s what hurts. That’s what sucks. The loss of him. The fact that he was so much more to me than I was to him.

I can’t process that its over. I keep forgetting, and I think of something that I want to tell him and then like a band aid being ripped off again, i remember. And it hurts. Holy god does it hurt. 

He invaded my life so completely, litterally over-night. From the first email it was non-stop. And just as quickly its gone. I guess that’s the thing. 0-60 goes 60-0 just as easily.

We talked about everything, we had long drawn out conversations in person and on email about everything from the trivial, to the emotional. And it was over in less than 5 minutes.  And I think that’s part of the problem – part of why it doesn’t feel real.

I’ve been drinking for 4 hours. Why am I not unconcious yet ?

 

Awe…

I’m sitting in a coffee shop, just working on my lap top (ok, i’m blogging more than working, but whatever). I’m sitting in one of the arm chairs and shortly after I sat down, a little over an hour ago, these two hispanic men sat down at the table near me. In the back of my mind I assumed they were construction workers on lunch break, NOT because I’m judging, but because there was a table of exactly that on the other side of me when they sat down. I didn’t pay enough attention to notice that they weren’t in cement and paint splattered clothes. After about 20 minutes, it slowly invades my consciousness that the tone and pace of their conversation is very different than raucous exchanges at the table of construction workers. Their conversation is all in spanish, so I don’t know what they are saying, but its has a more gentle tone and rhythm. When the table of construction workers leaves, I become even more aware of these two guys, and I realize that their body language and tone are not at all typical for two men having lunch.

I finally succumb to my curiosity and take a good look at them. The first thing I notice is that the guy facing me looks to be in his late 40’s and the other guy, though his back is to me, seems to be in his 30’s. They are both leaning toward each other with elbows on the table, and I realize that they are probably not heterosexual.

Then I notice this look in the eyes of the older guy, its that look, the look that every person gets when they have discovered something unexpected and wonderful.  

I decide that this is a first date from an internet hook up, and I think its going well. At least from the perspective of the guy facing me. Now i’m hooked and wishing desperately that I understood Spanish so I can have my theory confirmed. I keep looking over at them, pretending to be studying the pedestrians on the street outside the window they are sitting next to, but it doesn’t matter, because I don’t think they are aware of anything other than each other.

I wish I could see the face of the other guy, to see if he feels the same way. I hope desperately that he does, because I’m now fully on the side of the older guy. I’m rooting for him to get a second date with the hot young guy. I’m listening carefully to their conversation and trying to glean as much information from the tone and rhythm as i possibly can. They seem to have a lot in common, there is laughing, and lots of back and forth. I think this looks good.

I’m wishing I could say something to them, like “good luck”, or “I’m so happy for you.” But I’m also  starting to get worried that its not mutual, and my heart aches just a little for the older guy because he’s my buddy now and I want to protect him.

They just left. It seemed like the younger guy ended the meeting abruptly, but without knowing what he said and relying only on body language I can’t say for sure. They walked out together still talking, but then I lost track of them… I want to know if they made a second date. I want to talk to my buddy and see how he thinks it went…

Damn coffee shop eavesdropping. There is never any resolution.

 

 

 

Rules

I like rules. Especially social rules – rules of conduct, to be specific. I like knowing how I should act and how I can expect others to act in certain situations. I think that past generations had many more of these rules and they were understood and acknowledged by more people. Today, i think it might appear that we have fewer rules, but I think in reality we might have more, they are much less obvious, and far fewer people choose to acknowledge them.

This makes me crazy because that just creates one big opportunity for confusion, misteps and social disasters.

Because most rules aren’t obvious, they have to be disovered and discovery happens in response to unknowlingly breaking a rule. As we grow up, and bumble through enough situations and pay the consequences for that bumbling, we start to really look hard for the rules and then to decide to try to follow them.

For example: Inviting a man over to your house at 9:30 on a friday night to watch movies, implies that there is a better than average chance of some fooling around. I know that when I was younger, I often innocently extended such invitations to guys who I only wanted to be friends with. Eventually, after I had to explain, or reject, or fend off enough of those “friends” I recognized the rule and only made those invitations to men I wanted to fool around with. 

For example: If you discuss sex, in any context, but especially as it applies to you, with a man, he will think about having sex with you. In many cases he will also see it as either an invitation or an opening and he will try to act on it. You can choose to ignore this fact, but eventually when enough men mistakenly try to act on the invitation or move into the opening, you will stop discussing sex with men you don’t wish to sleep with.

For example: It’s appropriate to bring a bottle of wine or similar to a party. After you are the only one who doesn’t do this enough times, you learn to bring a bottle of wine to every party.

I could go on, but the point is, rules serve a purpose and the path toward choosing to acknowledge those rules is usually laid with awkwardness, miscommunications and a drive to avoid such outcomes. 

Cause and reaction are clear in the examples above: You invite a guy over for a movie, he tries to kiss you, you stop inviting men you don’t want to kiss to sit on your couch. Easy.

What makes me crazy is when you think you are experiencing the consequences but haven’t figured out the cause. Like when you know you’ve offended a room full of people, but don’t know why. Or when men who seem interested suddenly disapear or seem to change their minds for no reason. 

For example: a few weeks ago, I had an e-harmony guy that I was getting along with fairly well over email. I gave him my number, he said he’d call and then immediately disapeared. Yesterday, I had an e-harmony guy with whom things were going extremely well, we jumped through all the hoops in record time and on to direct email within a day, and then exchanged several very funny emails. He suggested meeting up, I agreed and gave him my number. I have not heard from him since. It hasn’t been that long in the grand scheme of things, but given that we were emailing basically every hour yesterday and now its been almost 24 hours since his last email, and 12 hours since my reply to that email,  it seems weird. So two guys, things seem to be going well, both disapear with no warning. Commonality? I gave them my phone number. But how can that be a rule that i’ve broken? It doesn’t make any sense.

So maybe it was something else in the email. But that could be anything, and to try to figure out woudl make me go insane – especially since I don’t think it was any different than any of the other emails.

Maybe its not a rule of conduct, but a rule of the chase, that I broke. Maybe giving out the phone number takes a little of the excitement out of it, the catch being so near now, and they simply fall back and forget to follow up.

Maybe they think they don’t need to reply to the email b/c they are going to call, and then don’t call immediately and then don’t call b/c now its weird because they waited too long to call… In that scenario, assuming they have good intentions to call, I guess it would be they who broke the rule…

But this is what’s maddening about dating. There aren’t enough clear rules. Once upon a time the “courtship” process was very controlled, a series of carefully coreographed moves, and while there were many drawbacks to that system, not least among them the frequent absence of choice, at least everyone knew what the rules were, and knew what to expect.

Today, everyone understands the rules differently: “women should be aggressive” “men like the chase” “be yourself” “make him work for it”… There are piles of books, and hours of talk shows devoted to this topic, and none of it is conclusive. Everyone who is in a relationship believes the way they found their partner is the way it will/should happen for everyone else, that what works in their relationship is what will work in everyone’s relationship.  And somethings are universal, but not everything and what it amounts to is just a bunch of ideas, with no clear rules.

I bet you think that what comes next in this blog is a call for more rules, for making the process clear again. You’d be wrong. I’m not going to advocate that, mainly b/c it wouldn’t work, and the only thing worse than no clear rules are rules that aren’t followed, THAT is the official recipe for total chaos.

There is no option for controlling the behavior of others. The rule I’ve heard from my mom my whole life and that has always proven true, is “you can only control your own behavior and emotions.” So applying that to dating, in the best light it means I should stay true to my personality, act on my instincts and eventually someone will come along who doesn’t disapear. But that’s really hard to do. Because that means setting myself up for disapointment over and over again. I’ve tried crafting my own mini-rules to try to control the disappointment “don’t get excited too soon”, “don’t expect anything more than what’s infront of you”. But those rules actually get in the way of the main rule – b/c to not get excited, to not think about what if, to avoid trusting anything that seems good, is to not be myself. But to not attempt to self-protect, is like having a river run through a town without levees. Everytime it rains, a little bit of the bank gets washed away, the river gets closer to the top and eventually there’s a day when there is too much  rain and the river overflows its bank and takes out the town.

And that’s what me crazy- not the frustrations and disapointments in dating, but the fact that I’m powerless to control any of it.

And now that I think about it, I think a lack of clear rules is also one of the causes of stalking. I’ve started to suspect that a new business associate is possibly stalking me…but it could be that he is just unclear of the rules of conduct that govern the line between business and personal. I don’t want to jump the gun and call this guy a stalker, if he’s just socially awkward, but I also don’t want to totally ignore the signs, pretend like he’s not creeping me out and end up handcuffed in the basement of his mother’s house.

See? Its all about the rules.