When I find myself questioning my decision to open myself up on such an external level, (and I question it with great frequency), someone ALWAYS approaches me about how something I’ve shared helped them in some way. Sometimes, a reader simply feels less alone, and breathes a sigh of relief that the committee that lives in their head, (and has way too many meetings), isn’t much different from mine.
This is why I publish these posts. If one human being feels less alone, weird, shameful, etc., it’s absolutely worth putting myself out there.
For the record, I am shocked at how many people read my posts. In truth, there are readers from countries I’ve never heard of. True story.
Over the past year or so, I have periodically wondered if I’ve ever been in love. Just as I rarely ask, “Why?”, I also believe that the definition of being “in love,” is totally subjective. What does it really mean? Also, who cares? Well, I must, because I have been thinking about it for more than one year.
In the past, I thought that I was in love. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I think the closest thing I’ve experienced to being in love, was my first “real” love when I was nineteen, through my early twenties. I always felt excited by the presence of this young man and frankly, I liked him. I think the “like” part of being in love, has to be there. If it’s not present, it’s probably bullshit, right? Also, what about the practice and dedication to honest communication? This leads me to my next suitor/victim/survivor.
Our “romance” began sideways. When we first started communicating, his mastery of witty banter sucked me in. I also found him so physically attractive that the word “attractive” doesn’t seem like the right word. He caused a chemical reaction inside of me.
Thus hath the candle singed the moth. O these deliberate fools! When they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Yummy! I was immediately hooked. (Like, hooked on drugs, alcohol, and food. Not like, “Hooked on Phonics.”)
Please note that I will not speak ill of this man. He is a kind soul and a creative seeker. I am here to highlight where I went wrong in my progression with him and why I have recognized that while I liked aspects of this person, I was not in love with him, but rather, moved into a sort of self-abusive state of being, by simply coexisting with him.
As human beings, we often screw ourselves by going with what we know, even if it’s bad for us, because we are comfy with what is familiar. When men have appeared to actually love me, warts and all, I have sprinted at lightning speed, in the opposite direction. My natural inclination is to fancy men who cannot or will not love me. It all hearkens back to childhood trauma, addiction and receiving what I “deserved.”
With the #MeToo Movement in our faces, (and it’s about time), I have, like so many of us, been triggered. I have also realized that all of this is on me. My “picker” isn’t actually broken, but rather, I have to take the time and space to be mindful and centered before I even consider dating a man in any serious manner.
My guess is that the man I will actually fall in love with, won’t feel comfortable for me for some time. I am willing (and seek to venture forward this way). My heart is open, my chastity belt is locked, and my past is my past, but it comes with great gifts as I move forward.
This all deepens the greatest love affair I will ever know – The one I choose to have with myself and with human kind.
So worth it.