There is a reason it is imprudent for a woman of a certain age to get a cat. It never makes her look good. And, it seems, this maxim holds true -- whether the cat is literal or figurative.
I am a big 'fraidy cat, and it doesn't make me look good. And it makes me feel worse.
I cannot relax and enjoy the ride. I worry out the details till they are frayed and worn. I babble incessantly. I am afraid: Of relying. Of being hurt. Of expecting too much. Of being disappointed. Of messing up. Of ambiguity. Of believing my own eyes.
Again, in response to such fears, I am generally trying to take a deep breath. However, sometimes I just take to babbling. I have taken to babbling to the boy about behind the scenes matters. Chatter with my girlfriends. I think it is generally sort of funny, and in the end flattering, but it is also too much. There needs to be mystery. I can't let him know I like him this much. It makes me feel like I am fucking everything up.
In quieter moments, I like to think that, although it isn't in accordance with the rules, it is what I do. It is who I am. If it frightens him off and messes things up, well, that is beyond my control, because it is who I am. But I am not sure that it is.
What it is is just fear and nerves. Why am I still being this way? Why can't I just relax?
Deep breath.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
I Am?
Dame fortune has been kind to me of late. I find myself -- all of a sudden -- presented with the possibility of spending more time with a person I find myself attracted to in every sense of the word (and, who, as far as I can tell, is not arrogant, unkind, or immature -- at least not more than the average person).
The situation has some contextual quirks. Among them the fact that we have a shared history, but not a shared past. Another, is that he is geographically undesirable as he lives far away, but he lives in a city with many people to whom I was once close (and am not today, only due to time and geographic circumstance). Then there is my abiding fear of the telephone, something which in this modern era of blackberries and IM'ing is generally not such an issue, but is more so when you are trying to get to know someone better from a distant three thousand mile divide.
I am struggling to write here because I am not entirely sure what I want to say. I like to write when I am confused because it helps me work things out, but I am afraid of my own words here. That to write anything about this situation is presumptuous and such hubris will then align the fates against me.
Ooh, look -- I am so important that the Fates would take time to align against me. Clearly, they do not have anything better to do. Ahem.
Anyway, perhaps stream of consciousness may help here. It will be inelegant, but I think elegance can be sacrificed to efficacy this once in the name of a worthy cause of allowing me to wrap my head around my love life. (I deem this worthy because I am imagining that, after all these years, people might be relieved if I took a break from my one-note lamenting with regard to this particular topic.)
So...
I like this guy. I really like him a lot. We have been out on two dates and what I saw left me wanting more. I want to spend more time with him and to get to know him better. I am excited and anxious (as in expectant, not as nervous) to do so. I am not, however, in love with him. I still have to know him better. I guess I feel like, given some of the quirks/impediments I listed above, I should have been struck by the thunderbolt of love at first sight to even consider any kind of long distance possibility (and to pick up and go make a cross country visit as I am soon going to do). But that is not quite the case. I am deeply "in like" with this man, in no small part because I can refer to him as a "man" and, unlike so many of my romantic attachments, the descriptor seems apt. I am accused of getting ahead of myself for using terms like "long distance possibility" and, well, I will be bold a write out the non-euphemism, "a long distance relationship" but I think that, for once, my consideration of a potential relationship and envisioning how it might work is not necessarily getting ahead of myself. By virtue of our ages (we are not the youngest chickens in the coop anymore) and the distance, it just seems to me that if I wasn't serious about the possibility of dating (as in committing -- not just perpetually playing around) this person, then why make the effort. In a very odd way, the fact that I don't believe that I am instantly in love with him, makes me want him more. The abiding curiosity of wanting to know more, to spend more time with him, is a very strong sort of parallel (precursor?) feeling. I could not tell you whether this will work out. My pessimistic side wrestles continually with my hopeful side. History is not on my side -- longevity of relationships has never been my strong suit. And because I am so particular and don't date that much, I also tend to vest people with more of a sense of possibility that they are probably entitled. I have written here about my issues with the "Last Best Chance" and how nervous that makes me. I am trying hard not to weigh this situation down with such expectations. Truly, I do not think I will be alone forever. But again, this one has so much possibility. Someone kind, yet ambitious, familiar, yet all new. He just has so much possibility -- or I guess I think that he and I would have so much possibility. There is something just different about it. I get nervous and tongue tied and worried. I will admit to a couple of stutters at the beginning of our one phone conversation since he left. I know I just need to be myself, that I cannot control how he feels about me, that all I can do is present to him who I am, who I genuinely am, and then just trust that things will work out as they should one way or the other. If he is to ever love me and I am to ever love him, I should hope we would be loving the most genuine version of the other person. I guess I am worried I don't know who I actually am. I find myself playing and replaying conversations and emails and all the rest -- proud of moments where I just surrendered to quirky, worrying about when I sounded stilted and awkward and weird. I guess those latter moments are when I am doing more of my plate spinning. So maybe the stutters are an indication I need to change course and get back to topic in a way that is closer to the real me.
I guess I just need to take a deep breath and surrender to the possibilities. Wherever they may take me...
The situation has some contextual quirks. Among them the fact that we have a shared history, but not a shared past. Another, is that he is geographically undesirable as he lives far away, but he lives in a city with many people to whom I was once close (and am not today, only due to time and geographic circumstance). Then there is my abiding fear of the telephone, something which in this modern era of blackberries and IM'ing is generally not such an issue, but is more so when you are trying to get to know someone better from a distant three thousand mile divide.
I am struggling to write here because I am not entirely sure what I want to say. I like to write when I am confused because it helps me work things out, but I am afraid of my own words here. That to write anything about this situation is presumptuous and such hubris will then align the fates against me.
Ooh, look -- I am so important that the Fates would take time to align against me. Clearly, they do not have anything better to do. Ahem.
Anyway, perhaps stream of consciousness may help here. It will be inelegant, but I think elegance can be sacrificed to efficacy this once in the name of a worthy cause of allowing me to wrap my head around my love life. (I deem this worthy because I am imagining that, after all these years, people might be relieved if I took a break from my one-note lamenting with regard to this particular topic.)
So...
I like this guy. I really like him a lot. We have been out on two dates and what I saw left me wanting more. I want to spend more time with him and to get to know him better. I am excited and anxious (as in expectant, not as nervous) to do so. I am not, however, in love with him. I still have to know him better. I guess I feel like, given some of the quirks/impediments I listed above, I should have been struck by the thunderbolt of love at first sight to even consider any kind of long distance possibility (and to pick up and go make a cross country visit as I am soon going to do). But that is not quite the case. I am deeply "in like" with this man, in no small part because I can refer to him as a "man" and, unlike so many of my romantic attachments, the descriptor seems apt. I am accused of getting ahead of myself for using terms like "long distance possibility" and, well, I will be bold a write out the non-euphemism, "a long distance relationship" but I think that, for once, my consideration of a potential relationship and envisioning how it might work is not necessarily getting ahead of myself. By virtue of our ages (we are not the youngest chickens in the coop anymore) and the distance, it just seems to me that if I wasn't serious about the possibility of dating (as in committing -- not just perpetually playing around) this person, then why make the effort. In a very odd way, the fact that I don't believe that I am instantly in love with him, makes me want him more. The abiding curiosity of wanting to know more, to spend more time with him, is a very strong sort of parallel (precursor?) feeling. I could not tell you whether this will work out. My pessimistic side wrestles continually with my hopeful side. History is not on my side -- longevity of relationships has never been my strong suit. And because I am so particular and don't date that much, I also tend to vest people with more of a sense of possibility that they are probably entitled. I have written here about my issues with the "Last Best Chance" and how nervous that makes me. I am trying hard not to weigh this situation down with such expectations. Truly, I do not think I will be alone forever. But again, this one has so much possibility. Someone kind, yet ambitious, familiar, yet all new. He just has so much possibility -- or I guess I think that he and I would have so much possibility. There is something just different about it. I get nervous and tongue tied and worried. I will admit to a couple of stutters at the beginning of our one phone conversation since he left. I know I just need to be myself, that I cannot control how he feels about me, that all I can do is present to him who I am, who I genuinely am, and then just trust that things will work out as they should one way or the other. If he is to ever love me and I am to ever love him, I should hope we would be loving the most genuine version of the other person. I guess I am worried I don't know who I actually am. I find myself playing and replaying conversations and emails and all the rest -- proud of moments where I just surrendered to quirky, worrying about when I sounded stilted and awkward and weird. I guess those latter moments are when I am doing more of my plate spinning. So maybe the stutters are an indication I need to change course and get back to topic in a way that is closer to the real me.
I guess I just need to take a deep breath and surrender to the possibilities. Wherever they may take me...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)