Today I cut ties with the last of my gentleman callers.
Oh, did I say "gentleman caller"? My mistake. I meant to say "incessant texters." Sure, he sent me nice messages several times a day and was gentlemanly (not a single penis in sight in those messages), but really, what is the deal with all of the texting?
Side rant: Texting is not dating. Texting is not a relationship. Texting is little pixels of short sentences and is best used to say "Does 5pm work for you?" or "Do you want me to pick up dog food on the way home?" or "Call me when you get a minute." Texting is not a good way to establish connections, to have a real relationship, or to be romantic. I don't care if you call me sweetheart....it's still not romantic. It's texting. (End rant, thanks for listening.)
Now, where was I?
Oh, yes. As I was saying: I cut ties. We weren't a fit. He was kind, sweet, smart, and funny - all amazing traits. But he was also non-committal ("I want to see you again" wasn't followed by "on this day at this time"), we had some serious religious differences (I know people figure that out all the time, but I'm not sure that I'm willing to take that on), and the big one...I just wasn't feeling it.
I just wasn't feeling it.
And here's the thing...
I don't feel like feeling it.
I'm not sure if this new stage will last, but right now, I just don't care to date. I am not terribly interested in men (except for the occasional "oh meowwwwww!" moment), because I can't be bothered.
WHAT?! "I can't be bothered!" isn't my style at all, but there it is.
Right now, when I think about dating, I think about compromising (where to go, what to do). I think about "putting on my best face" and what, impress someone? I think about dealing with someone else's quirks, someone else's baggage, someone else's schedule. I think of giving up time with my friends, or time with myself. I think about compromising the way I'm raising Katherine in some way (sharing her time, or my focus on the life that the two of us have created).
I know, don't I make romance sound grand? Quite the dream date I am.
I don't know when I became this blasé about it all, but there it is.
And I feel liberated.
I'm not leaving room in my schedule for dates, and I don't appear to care what any gentlemen think of me at this time.
If I try to adopt a bunch of cats and become a crazy cat lady, you'll stop me, won't you?
But until then, you'll find me on the trail. In a book. At work. (Oh boy, will you ever find me at work.) On the beach. In a museum. Hosting friends for dinner.
But you won't find me shopping the man-mall (online dating) or on a date.
How liberating!
P.S. My friends hear this and say, "Now you're ready." Comical, isn't it? Because I may be ready. But if Superman came along, I would have a hard time saying yes to him, because I'm not kidding about al of this.
Showing posts with label being single in a world of married people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being single in a world of married people. Show all posts
Monday, June 30, 2014
Monday, February 3, 2014
Visitor
I've been avoiding her for a while, this sister of mine. I see her around, and when she smiles at me I always look away. I don't want to catch her eye, and I certainly don't want to talk to her, because frankly she always asks questions that make me squirm.
She keeps popping up, though, to the point where the sight of her makes my chest give a little anxious squeeze, knowing that I can't avoid her for too long. Well, she finally caught up with me.
She sat down on the bench next to me and didn't say anything, didn't even look at me, knowing that I'd have to be the one to say the first word this time.
I could not speak, caught off guard and embarrassed. She is not the kind I'd like to be seen with, not someone I'd like associated with my good name. She has a tendency to say things to which I have no response, and her social awkwardness is discomfiting. She's not the prettiest girl, and she's not the kindest, but I fear that she's the smartest, because she always knows what I'm really thinking, and she's so bold she never hesitates to say it out loud and make me feel incredibly, incredibly uncomfortable, hearing the ugliness of my own words out there in front of me.
But she's unavoidable, so this time I didn't run away, or tell her off, or tell her that I didn't want her in my life any more.
I just stared at the ground, feeling her on the bench next to me, her eyes on me, waiting for me to speak.
Her stare broke something in me. I have done such a good job of avoiding her, but it seemed inevitable that she'd wind up here next to me, sitting on a bench, reading my thoughts. Now that we were here, I couldn't wind up the strength to tell her off, and she seemed to sense that in me - she wasn't as prickly as I expected her to be, and she didn't tell me off for avoiding her. She surprised me by reaching over and taking my hand, and her tenderness nearly made me burst into tears from the surprise of how acknowledging her made me feel.
Hello, Loneliness.
She didn't say a word, just slid over and wrapped her arms around me, laying her head on my shoulder. I stared at the ground, thrown off guard at my own relief: avoiding her has taken a lot of energy, and I don't have to pretend any more that I don't know her. No more looking away quickly, no more answering questions from well intentioned friends, "Don't you guys know each other?" We're old friends, she and I, and we'd grown quite close during my marriage. I thought she'd gone forever when the marriage ended, but such relationships are complicated, and can't be ended with courtroom papers.
And now, here we sit, alone in the crowd. She joined me on my morning run - ten miles with a PR, accomplishing a time I'd thought impossible, passing the smiling couples running on the same trail, running by the families playing on the beach even in the cold weather. She sat on a chair in the kitchen, watching me as I prepped for a Superbowl party at my house, silently observing me as I made chili and brownies. She joined me at the party, sitting next to me on the loveseat, watching the couples I'd invited laugh together, observing the siblings teasing each other at the party. I saw her take a look at my daughter, an only child, and elbowed her sharply. "Cut it out. She's got friends, and you can leave her alone." My voice was sharp - I have my limits.
She's moved into the guest room, but I know that when I wake up in the night she will have slipped into my bed; the cat will flee from her disturbance, and I will lie there, wide awake and not speaking. Loneliness will roll over and ignore me to fall asleep on her side of my bed, but I will lie awake, clinging to my edge of the bed, feeling pushed out but with nowhere to go.
She's a part of my life, for better or for worse. I might as well try to make friends with her.
She keeps popping up, though, to the point where the sight of her makes my chest give a little anxious squeeze, knowing that I can't avoid her for too long. Well, she finally caught up with me.
She sat down on the bench next to me and didn't say anything, didn't even look at me, knowing that I'd have to be the one to say the first word this time.
I could not speak, caught off guard and embarrassed. She is not the kind I'd like to be seen with, not someone I'd like associated with my good name. She has a tendency to say things to which I have no response, and her social awkwardness is discomfiting. She's not the prettiest girl, and she's not the kindest, but I fear that she's the smartest, because she always knows what I'm really thinking, and she's so bold she never hesitates to say it out loud and make me feel incredibly, incredibly uncomfortable, hearing the ugliness of my own words out there in front of me.
But she's unavoidable, so this time I didn't run away, or tell her off, or tell her that I didn't want her in my life any more.
I just stared at the ground, feeling her on the bench next to me, her eyes on me, waiting for me to speak.
Her stare broke something in me. I have done such a good job of avoiding her, but it seemed inevitable that she'd wind up here next to me, sitting on a bench, reading my thoughts. Now that we were here, I couldn't wind up the strength to tell her off, and she seemed to sense that in me - she wasn't as prickly as I expected her to be, and she didn't tell me off for avoiding her. She surprised me by reaching over and taking my hand, and her tenderness nearly made me burst into tears from the surprise of how acknowledging her made me feel.
Hello, Loneliness.
She didn't say a word, just slid over and wrapped her arms around me, laying her head on my shoulder. I stared at the ground, thrown off guard at my own relief: avoiding her has taken a lot of energy, and I don't have to pretend any more that I don't know her. No more looking away quickly, no more answering questions from well intentioned friends, "Don't you guys know each other?" We're old friends, she and I, and we'd grown quite close during my marriage. I thought she'd gone forever when the marriage ended, but such relationships are complicated, and can't be ended with courtroom papers.
And now, here we sit, alone in the crowd. She joined me on my morning run - ten miles with a PR, accomplishing a time I'd thought impossible, passing the smiling couples running on the same trail, running by the families playing on the beach even in the cold weather. She sat on a chair in the kitchen, watching me as I prepped for a Superbowl party at my house, silently observing me as I made chili and brownies. She joined me at the party, sitting next to me on the loveseat, watching the couples I'd invited laugh together, observing the siblings teasing each other at the party. I saw her take a look at my daughter, an only child, and elbowed her sharply. "Cut it out. She's got friends, and you can leave her alone." My voice was sharp - I have my limits.
She's moved into the guest room, but I know that when I wake up in the night she will have slipped into my bed; the cat will flee from her disturbance, and I will lie there, wide awake and not speaking. Loneliness will roll over and ignore me to fall asleep on her side of my bed, but I will lie awake, clinging to my edge of the bed, feeling pushed out but with nowhere to go.
She's a part of my life, for better or for worse. I might as well try to make friends with her.
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