For the better part of the past decade, I have dated myself far more than I’ve dated anyone else. After my departure from my marriage, I made an intentional choice to hang out with myself. I did this for several reasons I was aware of at the time, and some I learned along the way:
- I sought to get comfortable, under any circumstance, in my own skin. This meant that I still had to be okay, even in the most violent storms. (And there were some doozies.)
- I didn’t want to date while I was still pissed off at anyone, or bring any former resentment to a new relationship.
- I wanted to make sure my “man-picker” was actually not broken.
- I knew I had to grasp a good understanding of what my actual ideal would be; what qualities were must-haves and what were deal breakers.
Fast forward several years.
A few dating experiences I have had since my years of time dating myself, turned out to be “interesting.” Why?
- I became discerning, but my “man-picker” was still in question. Had my “man-picker” become so picky it was like picking a gnarly scab?
- I learned that I had never actually been taken care of by a man and that much of it was due to ME not permitting a man to take care of me.
- I learned I really didn’t ever need to be taken care of by a man. I was really my own caretaker with the help of my “army of women.”
- In my rear view mirror, in past relationships, I seemed to always end up feeling like a dog begging for a bone. No matter how things began in my relationships, I permitted myself to exist in hunger and thirst for anything that actually demonstrated or communicated love to me. I NEVER WANT TO BE THERE AGAIN.
- I started to believe that being partnered up with someone wasn’t actually my calling in life. I was and am okay with that.
- I’ve witnessed countless other human beings not take time and space to date themselves. Instead, they go from one relationship to the next without actually experiencing real love or recognizable happiness. I NEVER WANT THIS FOR ME OR MY FAMILY.
I won’t get into my past trauma or the other things that led me or temporarily kept me in past unhappy scenes. I would like to clarify that others are not to blame for where I put myself. Straight up, I had at least as much and likely more responsibility for permitting relationships to flow (or not flow) as they had.
So, I woke up this morning in deep thought. I had been dreaming of Steve Buscemi and two other men I know in real life. (Get your mind out of the gutter. Much to my chagrin, it wasn’t THAT kind of dream.)
Because I’m so think-y, “thinking things through,” is almost never the way to sound personal life decisions. So, rather than dissect any particular man or relationship idea, I spent my morning working on my mise en place.
I also took my goofball dog, Erin, for a long walk. When we returned home, I had her do some tricks she’s learned, before I gave her her Milkbone biscuit. She sat, shook my hand with each paw, and sprawled out like a rug, when I said, “Lie down.” It occurred to me that we haven’t even tried to teach Erin to beg.
So, my point is, date yourself. If you’re thinking about your “love life”, cut vegetables and make soup. If you feel Steve Buscemi may be your soulmate and no one understands why, enjoy your reasons, but don’t explain them if you don’t want to.
More than anything:
Don’t allow yourself to behave like a dog begging for a bone. You are loved and so lovable. If you still think you need to beg, I beg of you, spend more time dating yourself. You’re a real catch.
I love you.
Pam
