Something New . . .

I was sitting on the patio, enjoying the company of friends, my hands wildly emphasizing my words. I don’t remember what I was saying, only that I had just finished my sentence when I glanced toward the sidewalk and caught his eye. He quickly looked away, spooned ice cream into his mouth, and walked on by. The woman with him was eating ice cream too. They were comfortable, easy, proof that his life had gone on without me.

His brief presence and my discomfort went unnoticed by my friends. I turned my attention back to their conversation, smiling as though nothing hurt. Until I couldn’t anymore. I hated that even after a year, seeing him felt so shitty. My Sunday Funday vibe had fizzled. I made excuses, said my goodbyes, and walked home.     

I slept terribly that night, tossed and turned, and wished I’d never seen him. In the days that followed, I tried to write about my unease. I tapped away on my keyboard for hours and wasn’t any closer to understanding or relieving my inner angst. Rumination was getting the best of me.

In truth, my feelings were not complex or unique, but I continued to insist that they were. My brain worked overtime to crack their secret code and discover their deeper meaning. Until something clicked. There was no secret, no great truth revealed. It was simple; an old wound had been reopened. Memories of rejection and heartache had been triggered.  

Suddenly, all that unrequited love I had buried was released, and swirling aimlessly in the atmosphere, desperately searching for some place to go. That was grief. And I was feeling every bit of it.   

My heart had ached over those endings. I tried to hurry along the healing by proclaiming that I was a great catch, and I didn’t need some asshole in my life who couldn’t see that.  And yet, that was exactly who I kept choosing.

It wasn’t them; it was me.

Guys who were stingy with their feelings or emotionally unavailable were a challenge I couldn’t pass up. I was always certain I could love someone into loving me, a strategy that never worked. My persistence was a thinly veiled desperate need to belong to someone, anyone.

That split-second glance was a reminder of those men and all the rejection I had felt. And while I like to repackage those mistakes and label them ‘life lessons’, that doesn’t make them any easier to revisit.  I know better than to dwell in the past. On most days, I live in the present, enjoying the day-to-day of a truly wonderful life. I just got derailed. Now I’m back on track.

I haven’t given up on being half of a couple. If you’ve read anything I’ve written or know me at all, you know that after a heartbreak, I swear off men for a while.  Looking ahead, I am certain of the kind of man I don’t want. It’s a good place to start.

On a Saturday night a few weeks ago, while sitting on that same patio, drinking wine with friends. I was introduced to someone. He had the kind of smile that made me smile. We talked for a very long time. It was easy and fun, and I didn’t want it to stop.

We’re still talking . . .  

He is warm and kind and never stingy with his feelings. He says he’s called off the search. I smile and laugh nervously when he says that. I’m both happy and terrified. I panic a little, and I want to run because this path is unfamiliar.  I tell him that I need to go slow. He says he can do that; he’s not in a hurry, and he’s not going anywhere.  I tell him about all the shit that scares me. It’s possible that I sounded like a crazy person. But he would never say that. He still shows up, smiling.

I think maybe it’s time to try something new.

Xoc