Whirlwind

Single, 30-year old, female in the city enjoying life despite its hurdles; writing about her observations, exploits, loves, challenges, friends, hobbies and whatever random theories and ideas that she can't help but comment upon.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Take A Chance On Me

I take it all back. The whole fear thing. Well maybe there is some merit to it but it's not all me; that doesn't fully explain the climate change out here in single-land. I think that was me trying to make an excuse for the fact that I am single. I think that was me trying to make it my fault instead of these stupid chicken guys I have been messing around with that don't know a good thing when they see it. I'd rather make it my fault so then I don't have to feel confused or rejected. And yes, I stick by the story of the other day. I was relieved when LG told me he was in love with someone. I was okay when 31 wasn't around when I needed him someone everyone. I am not okay that our contact has been sporadic and we haven't hung out in months. And I mean friendship when I say that. You wouldn't think that you sleep with a friend and then stop sleeping with a friend and then the sex negates the friendship, especially when the sex was good and the friendship was long. He moved to Brooklyn because I moved to Brooklyn. And that was 4 or 5 years ago. This whole non-friendship thing is weird. And it's not my fault and its not my fear. It's his. The only other possibility is that he was only friends with me for all that time so he could eventually sleep with me and he fulfilled that so now we don't need to be friends anymore. Somehow, because that's absolutely insane, I can't imagine that being the case.

I am not one to pass the buck but I couldn't have imagined it all. I've had all of these crazy beautiful moments of amazing connection. Moments so true that I know they were mutual. Moments of two people being completely honest and unadorned by titles and hangups and fear and pasts and future. I have made them laugh and engaged their minds. They have reciprocated. You can't fake that stuff. I know genuine when I see it. I couldn't have imagined all of these moments, all of these beautiful, magical connections I've had in the past two years. I am not that disconnected from reality.

I was talking to K about the men in my life the past two years, all of them. The Pilot came first. I was just happy to break the Illinois seal. I wanted nothing more than that. SD had warned me about how he treats women and that he's a player but I couldn't have cared less; there was a much larger chance that I would break his heart than he would break mine. My heart was already broken. That was April of 2005. June 2005 was an entirely different story. The last Saturday in June I woke up on a hellishly hot hungover Saturday morning (okay, fine, it was probably more like afternoon) where the night before my roommate AC and I had 'made it' to and through the Tortilla Flats happy hour which runs from 1am until 4am. We had started our Friday night at 4 in the afternoon. It was my sister's best friend's birthday that Saturday night and although we were still feeling the previous night's beer, wine, burgers, margaritas, tequila shots and more beers, we rallied and adjusted our 'going out' outfits for our hangovers and the 500 degree weather. We arrived late and before going to the party out back, we had one of the bar's special lemonades. Then we each bought another and decided to brave the heat and the crowd and muscled our way outside to greet everyone. By midnight the birthday girl wanted to dance so off we went. The two friends I was dancing with left leaving me open for a second where I saw a familiar face from earlier in the night, a guy, dancing alone also. Soon we were dancing together. Hours passed like minutes as we danced. He rubbed his cold beer along my arms and forehead soon graduating to putting ice cubes down my shirt and we danced. I didn't even know his name. We started kissing. Then he leaned down and said, "your sister's my boss." I was like, 'I don't care." We all have a disclaimer. I looked around and not only was no one from our party there but the place was closing up. We started walking downtown and east. His name was 1982. I didn't even know this guy, but he was making me laugh and made me feel safe and I was having fun. We found a bench outside D.B.A. bar in the east village and people watched the crazy, drunk people spilling out of the bars. We made up stories for all of them. Eventually we got on the train. I fell asleep on his shoulder. My stop came and we got off. It was light out. I invited him to sleep over and he said yes. As he was settling on the couch I invited him into my room. We had some sex. We went to sleep. We had some more sex. We took a shower. We went to sleep. He was appreciative he was fun he was happy and I was grateful and enclosed in a moment and laughing and not thinking about Illinois or the big ugly story I was wearing. We woke up, had coffee and went to Prospect Park. Then he took me for my first (and best) chimichanga. Our day ended at 8pm. I know, one of those perfect New York stories, not unique in any way but it was the first time I was lifted out of my private hell and the first time I was able to breathe and allow time to stop and actually want time to stop since Illinois and I had broken up. 1982 was about me. I didn't need more than that night. I didn't need a committment or a relationship. Again, all the girls who knew him warned me that he didn't want a girlfriend yada yada yada. But he called me and we hung out until that November. By the end of the summer I added 1981 to my repertoire but he did want a girlfriend. After the first time we had sex when I wanted to run home, he wanted to snuggle and wanted me to sleep over. He called me the next day and told me he wanted to cook me dinner that night. I wasn't having that. Not ready.

Fast forward to winter 2006 and the uncomfortable realization that I was crushing on the OC hardcore; because we were friends already and had been for almost a year, I realized that I probably could and would date him. That is where the problem lies. That's a difficult thing for a girl to say because once you say that, guys are suddenly on the defensive. They think that you want to marry them and get all serious and change them and god knows what else. Hey, I also want to get married and have kids. But that doesn't mean I want to marry you and have your kids. It doesn't mean I want to have a relationship with you. Hell it doesn't even mean I want to go on a second date with you. The OC actually described his ideal woman, not physcically, but her character traits, and he described me. Then when I complained to him about intimidating guys by describing myself as a 6-time marathon runner and a criminal defense attorney and asked him how he'd feel after hearing that, he replied, "I'd love it. It would mean she was interesting and has her own life." Yet when the opportunity was presented to him he backed away. God forbid he isn't the one wowing and impressing the woman by being a criminal defense attorney, what does he have to offer if not that. Just his true self, his essence which is what I bonded with and liked about him anyway.

That brings me to the moments with the men who came next. All of them were contenders. I don't jump the gun. I take it day by day so just because I wanted more than I got, doesn't mean that my interest wouldn't have been sated the next time we hung out. I don't make a new best friend at a party; I don't decide I want to marry someone on the second date or the third time we hang out or the tenth time. In the emotional realm I tread carefully and slowly. It's the boys that move faster. Staten Island was asking me about rings and my views on marriage within weeks of us getting together. Illinois invited me home with him for Christmas when we had just met right before Thanksgiving. I wasn't having any of that. Where it used to be uncomfortably hot, now I am receiveing polar opposite vibes and it is frigid. The climate has changed. Now it's the boys that move slower. I savored and appreciated it at first because for the first time in my dating life I wasn't being rushed into committment. Now I have different feelings about it. Get to know me before you give me the brush or the fade-out or the back-off. Or be more honest about why you freeze up, with yourself and with me. The sudden freeze confuses me because I know you like me and I know you enjoyed the time we spent together as much as I did unless I am delusional and imagined it. So why wouldn't you want to hang out again. I need a good reason.

K's analysis of the situation is that I don't imagine it. She explained that people are afraid of getting exactly what they want. When she said this, I scoffed at this psychiatric hoo-ha. It sounds too simplistic and self-serving; so all these guys were so in love with me that they just couldn't bear to be with me? She said men want intimacy and a true partner as much as women do but old habits and expectations die hard and they are trained to keep their emotions locked in and be stoic and play it safe. I like it but I wouldn't hang my hat on it. Then I thought about it. I have spent my life compulsively writing in secret while trying to suppress and repress and forget how much I want to do it out in the open full time. Fear of getting what I want? The true fear is that if I put my true wants and desires out there, I am open to a real rejection that could destroy me in ways that being a shitty lawyer never could. Does that analogy work?

My own theory is that men are in a strange place these days. They want to be needed like their predecessors were but most women these days don't need men to validate them or support them. Simultaneously, they enjoy the fact that they are no longer expected to be all chivalry and roses and wining and dining. So where does that leave them? They don't know. Sometimes it leaves them with women who make them feel like 'men,' women who have a lower paying job then them who want to get married who are clingy and needy and want to be taken care of. Sometimes it leaves them with an equal who wants them more than she needs them. Sometimes they take advantage of the fact that they are no longer expected to be men in the traditional sense and they allow the woman to wear the metaphorical pants. Being needed in the old-fashioned sense allays any concerns that they will actually be hurt by a woman, wearing the pants and being in control assures that they are in charge of the direction of the relationship. That's safer; it validates them as people. And that's not what they will get with me. But with me they will get a genuine connection and they will get validation but it will be validation borne of something different; they will be inspired by me while I will be inspired by them. They will be my muse, my best friend while I make them laugh and keep them warm. I might break their heart and they might break mine. But that's the risk you take in being genuine and letting someone in and letting down your guard and being unadorned by titles and hangups and fear and past and future. Whatever. I'm in no rush to get anywhere; I am more about the journey than the destination and this phenomenon, this new climate is fascinating. I'll keep you posted on the next stop. And no, I refuse to adjust to the temperature by layering up. This is me.

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