My birthday was three weeks ago, now, but as it turns out, turning 33 was kind of a big deal for me. The reason won’t be obvious to anyone reading this, and after mulling over things for … well, three weeks now, I’m going to share. Finally.
My birthday and New Year’s Even are times when I inevitably feel compelled to reflect on what’s happened in the last year … and I had much to think about this time around. A year ago last Monday, I experienced a completely unforeseen and shockingly abrupt end to what had otherwise been a promising (and fast-moving) first three weeks of dating. The summer solstice, which I’d never really paid much attention to, last summer became something promising in that budding relationship … but ultimately heart breaking, and after being involved with someone for even a brief amount of time, I was really pretty devastated to see such promise crushed in a moment of anger and frustration.
To be sure, I’ve gone out on a number of “first whatevers” (terminology I stole from a friend who I spent summer solstice eve with last summer and haven’t seen since, either — what the hell?!) … and a smaller number of second dates, significantly fewer third-plus dates. I had one short-lived relationship last November, and have otherwise spent the whole of the last year unattached. That’s 92% of a year.
You’d have to have known me for years to understand how fundamentally unlike me that is. To have spent a year single is just … well, it’s just *NOT* my m.o. I’ve always been in relationships; perhaps I’m a serial monogamist, for better or worse, or maybe I’ve just been good at finding someone who I wanted to get involved with in relatively short order after ending a relationship. Who knows?
For so much of the last year, I’ve vacillated between feeling ready and open to getting involved in a serious/committed/monogamous relationship — and worrying that I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to that pursuit. I yearn for emotional and intellectual closeness, sometimes to the point that I feel a physical ache to have someone special in my life. But I’ve grown enough as a person, grown sufficiently comfortable with and confident in who I am and what I’m looking for, that I am unwilling to settle for something less than what I know I deserve and know I want. I worry that I’m becoming far too talented at finding a reason to dismiss potential suitors without giving them a fair shot; other times, I figure I’m just weeding out those who clearly aren’t right for me, and doing it far sooner than I used to such that I avoid a lot of the hurt and disappointment.
But then something happens that makes me wonder whether I really *do* want a long-term relationship. And hence the constant, vicious cycle of optimism and fear. Case in point: One of my best friends in this world has been trying to call me for days, but I can’t bring myself to answer the phone. Why? Even though I know these feelings come exclusively from me, and not from him, I feel trapped, a little claustrophobic, like I cannot live up to his expectations. It has become a spiral and I don’t know how to escape it. This happens so much, so often, with so many people I meet. They rarely push me, but the second I start to feel any pushing, I freak out, I panic, I find a reason, and I run away. I can see this so clearly… and the question is, do I choose to explain it by saying these people aren’t right for me (at least, not right now) or do I let myself worry that I’m sabotaging my own success?
In the meantime, my most recent attempts at dating suggest I’m getting really good at finding people who want very little from me. The people who I seem to want to spend time with these days are people who, perhaps to a fault, seem unconcerned with defining what we are or where it’s going. Is enjoyable company and a great big question mark with respect to the future enough for me? Sometimes, yes. Other times? I guess there’s a part of me that feels ultimately unfulfilled, because, well… I mean, I *want* to be in a relationship, dammit. I want to feel like I can count on someone, want to feel as though I can communicate with someone on a regular basis and depend on them to do the same with me, and that I can do these things without feeling needy or like I’ve got unrealistic expectations. But can I even bring myself to broach the topic? Of course not.
This is clearly a different era of my life, one that seems to be a time when I’m committed to following my own dreams, pursuing my own passions, and not letting anyone else fuck that up. I love what I do, and it makes me feel good to focus on that without letting my social life (the ups and downs) detract from my pursuing those dreams. Still, it all feels a wee bit hollow without someone to share it all with, and at some point, perhaps even soon, I really hope I can figure out how to stop being my own worst enemy and trust someone enough to let them inside once again. It’s been seven months now since I was willing to do that, and I want to believe I’m ready again, given the right person.