Men and Beauty

I'm trying really hard to let go of my insecurities around my looks. I'm quite beautiful in some ways, but not in the way our society currently likes women.

I'm also trying to be aware that just because some men behave in certain ways, not all men do.

Yesterday was hard. First I got a massage from a self-described 'aging hippie' who would not shut up during my massage, and he was going through a divorce. According to him, his ex was a materialistic woman and 'what did she want with an aging hippie like me?' He was clearly frustrated with her focus on material possession and the dominant narrative for how to define worth, and I asked him what he wanted from her: "Well, she was sexy and beautiful." Grrrr! All his frustrations were defined by her as a woman falling into fairly stereotypical ways of measuring value, but he as a man was doing the exact same thing!

Then I get home and check my e-mail. I went out with this man twice, about 6 months ago. He blew me off after the 2nd date. I would have blown him off if he hadn't blown me off. He HATED a job that probably paid $10 an hour and didn't really have any plan for how to change his job or find a better job or make a change. He hated the area where we live, and pretty much hated his life. He was living here to be a 'good son' but was only waiting for his mother to die, so he could go back to Alaska, where life was good. A month ago he asked if I wanted to borrow a book of his and I didn't reply. Then last week he asked if I'd like to go out again. I said: "What's your thinking? You kind of disappeared after the last time we got together, and I know you want to move back to Alaska."

He replied:

I've been wondering about myself lately. I'm guessing you are blissfully ignorant of Seinfeld? One episode, he made the proclamation that 90% of the population was un-dateable. (How do the rest of us make out? Alcohol.)

Yeah, I'm not really happy here. I miss Alaska terribly. But the life I left is no longer there. I'm fairly committed to staying in the area as long as my mom does. So I have learn to make the most out of my time here.

I'm kind of caught in a huge Catch 22. I have neither a job nor a mate and that makes me depressed (not that I really need much excuse). That makes it that much harder to be 'up' when on an interview or a date. Last date said she didn't feel any spark (nor did I). But I'm wondering if I have a spark to give off.

And its also not good that, as I get older and learn more about myself, I don't necessarily like what I learn. Fer instance, I would like to believe that I can be attracted to someone's intellect and have that make up for any short comings, say, physically.

But sadly, that's not the case. As I said, its not really something I'm proud of. Its not something that I really know how to deal with. So, I ignore instead of dealing.

But I do like you for your intellect. I've kind of adopted one of your mannerisms--your singsong acknowledgement 'I see'. But it seems highly unlikely a romantic match is possible.

So, I was wondering if you would like to see each other as friends. Go to museums maybe bike ride but w/o any romantic intentions. I'd really like to have a friend like you.

Not particularly surprising, but I assume that what he meant is: "You have physical short-comings but I like your intellect. But that isn't enough to make you dateable. But spend time with me because I need a friend."

It really pissed me off. I sent 2 replies. One said: "I wish you the best and appreciate your honesty, but I'm not doing platonic friends here." And the other said (and I'm glad I sent it, an hour later--I was still pissed): "Telling a girl she has physical short comings, it really isn't kind. I only allow people to be friends who are kind to me."

So in the past, I'd let this man affect my sense of self and I would go back into yet another cycle of feeling insecure. I could list all his short-comings; but why? He is clearly stuck in his rather negative cycle. (He got fired since we left, probably because he hated his job so much.) And I wouldn't have been happy with him anyway.

John was so far and away a superior man to this man. And the ring on my finger reminds me that he thought I was pretty fucking extraordinary, lacking only in confidence. I refuse to let this twit pull me into a cycle of self-doubt.

I was kayaking yesterday, and I fell in the lake. And this man started laughing at me. Derisively and mockingly, pointing at me from the shore. And I ignored him, pulled my kayak on shore, flipped it over, drained it out and went to get a different kayak as he laughed the entire time. I started to walk over to him and I realized he was retarded. I'm guessing downs syndrome; I'm not sure. And I know he has probably been laughed at, and people have probably teased him. And he probably hated it. And I know, by my view of the world, I'm lucky to be me and not him. And I tried to have kindness for him. But he just kept laughing and pointing at me. I didn't know how to talk to him, without being condescending or angry. So I stayed silent. I'm tired of staying silent while men treat me badly. But I also know that it isn't all men. John would have challenged me to a jousting duel on kayaks and then fallen in the water before he pulled me back in. I want to be honest in my emotions, but being mad at men in general is neither fair, nor will not bring me greater joy.

Beyond Words

I was listening to Radio Lab on "Words" (which, by the way, is a fabulous show--highly recommend!--yes, I am an NPR nerd...) and they were talking with this woman who had a stroke. While she was in the middle of the stroke, she lost language, and it was blissful.

That is was S&M used to do for me. I'm so defined by language. I use words to navigate not just the physical world, but also my emotional world. They tell me how I'm feeling. I love the word 'liminal' because it was a way of defining that space in-betwixt and between. Before I had that word, I didn't know how to embrace that space. I fell in love with John based on our words.

Somehow, when I first started playing with wiitwd, it was magical. I remember going out with this man who kept dropping hints about kinky friends, but saying "of course, I'm not into that." Over, and over and over. And on our third date, I looked at him and said "Are you really as vanilla as you keep trying to reassure me..." And then he took me home and spanked me. And ran ice-cubes on my hot ass. It was magical. And I stopped thinking in words and started thinking in pictures. Which is so odd, if you think about it. Why not feelings instead of words? Where did the pictures come from? But all of a sudden it was pictures.

I've thought about trying to find someone kinky again, but it scares me. Scares the hell out of me. And then I remember that I met John on collarme. And the vanilla men, well, they bore me. Bored or scared, bored or scared, bored or scared.

I ache for the sublime. Not in the modern sense, in sense of the Romantics. Terror and awe at God's presence. I think the closest I've found, outside of wiitwd, is that moment on the Maid of the Mist ride at Niagara Falls. Exhilaration and totally alive to the present without words to define and demarcate and limit.

Amateur

I seem to be in a good space with dating as of late.

I went to a 'speed-dating' event last week, and 14 men were interested in me! (Actually perchance a few more--14 of the men I was interested in were interested in me.) And I was at the oldest age range, so most of these men were younger, I think. I went with a size 6 friend, and she got only 3 men responding to her. So clearly, size is not everything!

Then, on OK Cupid, there was this fabulous man, who has a 'red' (responds rarely) status. I rarely write men, and have never written a 'responds rarely' guy, but I loved his profile and we had quite a bit in common. (He also had several references to kinky literature in his profile.) Anyway, he wrote me back, and not just a 'hi' but several pages each time. (I expect that he responds selectively because he writes a great deal.) And then he stopped writing me back and I was so very sad and did exactly what I always do, which is to analyze everything I might have done wrong. But then 2 days later, another fabulous long e-mail (which an apology and an explanation).

Meanwhile, I really do like one of the men from the speed-dating, despite my suspicion that he is a decade younger than me. I'm not sure how to suss out his age without giving mine away. (I don't usually go to the speed dating events where I'll be on the older side, but they had a last-minute free promotion for gals since they had too many guys.)

So first of all--half the guys that I liked at speed dating liked me. Half. Wow. Half!!! And a guy who responds rarely seems quite interested. I think of myself as not pretty enough for conventional standards. (I do think I'm quite beautiful, but not pretty. I'm, I think, beautiful in a Renoir-would-have-loved-to-have-painted-me sort of way, but not in a what-is-conventionally-attractive-in-an-age-where-photoshop-makes-models'-hips-smaller-than-their-heads sort of way. Intellectually, I know that men want a gal who is capable of walking upright and more of a mammal than an insect, but emotionally, I feel like I'm just too chubby. (I did lose nearly 10 pounds after John died, and I seem to have kept that off, though--yeah for the grief diet! For those who care, I seem to be a 14/16 at the moment, or, in "W" sizes more of a 12W/14W.)

So I'm really trying to just hold the fact that men are attracted to me. I actually sort of felt like that maybe John was up there tweaking men in my direction. My insecurity about men not being interested in me is partly linked to not really respecting men. When my dad told me (when I was in the 6th grade) that "You'll never get a boyfriend if you don't lose weight," I responded "Well then I don't want a boyfriend." While we were both wrong, I think I made a deal with the universe that I wouldn't try to want a boyfriend because I didn't know how to lose weight. But A) I'm not that big. (Statistically,in I'm 'average' size, although I do have trouble believing that.) And B) not all men judge women only on their size. Face, hair, tits, those things matter too, and in those areas, I do pretty well.

The man I'm enjoying corresponding with has several notable features. He and I have discussed literary kink. But nothing beyond that. (His profile makes reference to several kinky fiction pieces, so I recommended my favorite kinky book, Safe Word by Molly Weatherfield, and he bought it and is reading it!)

We are sharing ideas, but both of us have alluded to identifying with characters in fiction, and both of us have said we'll discuss it in person. I think this is good, because it is keeping the conversation from becoming too emotionally intense too early.

I read in a book on relationships that relationships built around sharing our wounded vulnerable pieces sometimes keep both people stuck in the wounded area--that we can't grow and heal if that's how we base intimacy. I asked my best friend and she totally agreed. I'm not sure if I believe this--I don't know what intimacy looks like if it doesn't involve a certain amount of sharing vulnerability. But I want to make sure I'm sharing good stuff in abundance.

I worry that I might be giving off an angst-free sense of kink, but I think as long as it stays in a literary discussion (and mostly of vampires, we haven't talked about Safe Word) then I think I'm fine. Interestingly, I get the sense that he might have had a bit of angst there as well, but I'm totally reading that into something he said. If we get more personal, then I think I have to mention that "while mostly of my baggage is neatly folded, I do think that rummaging in those waters could involve some laundry." That isn't the right way to say it, but something along those lines.

But I'm also aware of not wanting to develop the kind of intensity I had with John over e-mail. I'm very much enjoying correspondence. But I don't think that level of intensity is healthy in a virtual relationship. I think the 'let's save that for an in-person talk' is a really good way to go. Taking time to build trust before kink is introduced is just plain old sensible and intelligent!

But I do relish the thought of finding someone with whom I could be a kinky amateur.

A sense of presence

Yesterday I put John's picture away from my bed and made my bed normally. (I've been sleeping in a sort of nest, with all these pillows on one side and my comforter on the other.)

So this morning, I was lying in bed, on my left side, with a small pillow between my arms. Lying on my side is a very lonely position in bed--I so ache to have someone come and spoon around me. I think spooning may be my most favorite thing in the world. Anyway, it sounds cheesy, but I felt a sense of John. It was quite simple, almost a whisper. But we had a conversation that boiled down to:

There is some sense of an afterlife.

He loved me.

He will keep an eye on me and help me find someone I will love.

I need to do my part by honouring my inner-Connie (make my two halves friends) and by believing in myself.

I musn't 'compromise.' I will meet someone I will truly love. No dating men that I think I ought to be happy with.

We will connect again at some point. Not in any recognizable form. But as spiritual entities.

He should go, and I asked if he had to, and he said not right now. Whenever I'm ready.

I asked him if this was entirely a figment of my imagination and he said not entirely. My sense, and I was sort of mostly asleep but not entirely, was that either he was in a form that I couldn't comprehend or that I was making this up, but it was based on who John really was.

It was a nice whisper of his love.

Here's to the ladies who lunch...

So I'm a little worried I'm drinking too much. I've had 18 drinks in the last 9 days, including 5 tonight. John always thought I should drink more, but there's no need for me to turn into Elaine Stritch all of a sudden.

I was on a date tonight, and the guy just spent so much money! It was fun, but also it felt hedonistic. I am sure dinner was over $300. With tip, probably $400. I always felt taken care of when John ordered the $19 meal for me, instead of letting me pick the $11 meal. (And sometimes we went to places that got into the low twenties for an entrée, but usually not.) But this felt odd. My salad was $12. Our entrees were $39. Each! I had 2 whiskey sours, 1 glass of wine, a glass of port and a glass of champagne. (That said, I didn't finish my 2nd whiskey sour, or the wine. But the staff kept bring out booze without me even ordering something.) I said I'd have a glass of port after the dinner and intended to order the $9 glass of port, but he ordered me that $34 port. $34! For a glass!!! Oy. I'd rather have the $9 and a $25 check to Pakistan relief. Then, I said that I had loved having a glass of port and a bit of cheese in Portugal and so he ordered a cheese platter. 14 kinds of cheese (about 3 huge pieces each). I think we ate maybe a total of 1 of the 14 pieces. (We had lots of little bites.) It was fun, but felt like a level of conspicuous consumption that made me feel odd. Ah, well.

The guy tonight was charming and funny. He drove me home and we sang Tom Lehrer songs in his car. But I'm not particularly attracted to him. However, he dropped 3 references to kink, so I'm happy to go out with him and see what develops. (I told him I want to go to a cheap hole in the wall next time, though.)

Meanwhile, I feel like I'm loosening a little around John. I can still burst into tears at a moment, if I think about him, but I put his picture in a slightly less conspicuous place.

I realized that there are several ways I wish John had been or acted differently. John really wanted me to agree to be his friend, and I did, and then he dropped me as a friend. That hurt! Also, it seems to me that John couldn't handle the fact I wasn't perfect. When I did something that annoyed him (and sometimes I totally see why he was annoyed, but sometimes I think it was unfair), he wouldn't bring it up kindly. He'd avoid me for a while or attack me quite harshly. I think he knew it. I think he wanted to change. But it was hard.

I pray for John. I don't really believe in God, but I'm hedging my bets here. I pray that he finds total, unconditional love. The love his parents never had for him. And peace and light. I try to visualize light for him. I hope there's an afterlife, and he has found a great equivalent of a bar and he and I can sit down and have a drink in 50 or 70 years, and finally have that loving kindness for each other. I'm sure he wanted it for me, even if we didn't ever express it.

Meanwhile, I'm going to watch how much I'm drinking. I'm not drinking by myself or at home. But whereas I used to nurse one drink and then switch to seltzer, I now seem to be happy to have quite a few. I'm not gaining weight from the booze (just the opposite it seems), but it feels wrong. This, at least, is not the time to radically increase my alcohol consumption.

Crawling out from under a rock

I seem to be doing a little better. Only one flash flood today, and I was able to control it enough to get into a restroom, and then be presentable 5 minutes later.

So this is what I currently think about the whole situation.

A) I am taking John at his word that he really did care about me. There were times I felt like I was just a distraction, but I think that was my own insecurities. There is enough evidence (borrowing my ring, calling me his soul mate to a friend, 564 pages of e-mails) that I do really believe he cared about me. I'm even willing to believe that his reluctance to have sex was his wanting to protect me. He told he he'd done a lot of casual sex, and it didn't work. He could have had me anytime, and he knew it. That was a sacrifice he made.

B) John did, I think, know his body wasn't working well. He told me he had serious memory issues, and I didn't take that as seriously as I should have. He also had been tested for MS, Lou Gehrig's disease and several other issues. There was no way that I can think that this could have been prevented (aside from not smoking, and John loved his cigarettes too much to give them up; plus, he believed he had Parkinson's, and cigarettes actually help prevent the onset of that.)

C) John knew he could be unkind when he was upset. I think that's what he meant when he said he was a bit of a rough ride. I didn't deal with it well. Mostly, I'd get defensive and then he'd disappear. I really hate that we had unresolved arguments. Like everyone, I'm not perfect. Like everyone, John would get upset with me sometimes (and I even got upset with him sometimes.) Like everyone, we'd clash over the stupidest things sometimes. John wanted me to be more rugged. I think there is where. I think he wanted to be able to get angry with me and not have it damage my sense of self. But I loved him, so it did. I seem to protect myself by how close I allow someone to me. I have very few defenses against someone who is very close to me.

D) John said "I don't deserve you. You deserve the man I aspire to become." I wanted to take that journey with him, but he didn't want to 'dishonour' me and believed he would at that point in his life. And it is possible that he was right. I actually think his desire for bdsm was linked to wanting someone to embrace the part of him that he saw as causing other people pain.

E) I expect John would be touched by my love for him. But I know he would also want me to live a full and beautiful life. I think he thought it would be a better life without him (he was wrong, but there it is.) I think if he had any one wish for me it was to believe in myself. To be a little less fragile and a little more rugged.

F) I regret that John and I didn't have that year and a half together. I would give anything to have that year and a half together. But it would have been a hell of a hard year and a half. Between him losing his job, his mother dying, my dad's cancer, and the fact that we didn't do a good job of resolving conflicts. I honestly don't know how I would have been able to manage last summer with taking care of my dad if he'd been in the picture. But I'd still give anything for that time with him.

G) He said once that he was always so happy when he was with me, but he didn't know if I made him happy, or whenever he was happy he wanted to be with me. I hope he was happy when he contacted me in June. I hope he was happy when he died. (I consider his "dying" to be when he had his heart attack, not when they turned off the machine.) But ultimately, I want a partner who can be with me when he's sad too.

H) I regret telling him how badly he hurt me. I don't think I did anything wrong. I tried to behave with integrity and love. But I think it probably caused him remorse. He believed (foolishly in my opinion) that if we didn't have sex, he wouldn't hurt me. If there is an afterlife, and if in that afterlife people have any connection with the people of this world, I truly hope and pray that he knows that I'm so very glad that I met him. I have regrets, but mostly about not resolving stuff. I would not have given up any of the time we had--I just wish we'd had more. (If there is an afterlife, I also hope and pray that John finds true, unconditional love. The love his mother never had for him. Wouldn't it be lovely if there was a deity, whether or not it is personified, that could provide him with warmth and love and light?)

I) I'm trying to figure out why his death hit me so hard, when he had already absented himself from my life. (Ignoring whether or not his reaching out to me the week before he died meant anything, although that certainly meant something to me.) Part of it was realizing that I didn't believe the narrative that I had told myself (that he wasn't that into me--that I didn't mean anything to him). Realizing that he did care about me, that made it a lot harder that we didn't work. John put most of the onus on my, but I really think it wasn't either of us--it was the particular chemistry between the two of us.

It also means that this is truly it. I had a feeling that John was going to come back in my life in some way or other. I went through the motions of moving on. But I didn't do it completely. Even though part of me thinks that this is a joke, or an elaborate ruse on his part to force me to get over him and move on, I know it can't be. No one can fake an obit on the NY Times web site. This is it. There will be no coda.

I wear my ring now and it is no longer just my ring. It is the ring that John had with him for a year and a half. It has his energy. He said in one of his last e-mails that it was like I was waiting for cosmic permission to trust myself, to trust him. I'm trying to think of this ring as his blessing to trust us both.

Two Flawed Beautiful Humans in Their Flawed Beauty

Well, I got through all the e-mails. They come to 564 pages, 12 point, Times New Roman, Single Spaced. Probably about 10 pages of that are photos.

Wow.

So, here's what I noticed.

His final e-mails to me, some of the bigger complaints he had about me, maybe they were fair. But mostly, I don't think so. I know that John had memory problems (he told me so), and I really think that that contributed to our misunderstandings. For example, he said: What I recall is my attempting to reach out to YOU. I remember trying to engage you on the subject of my mother's death and getting something back like 'good thoughts!'"

What the e-mails say is I asked him if he wanted to get together and he said:

Can't, sorry. I just got laid off from my job and to top it all off, my mother died yesterday."

I'm so sorry. So sorry.

Then I wrote the next week: "I hope you're doing ok. If you need anything let me know. It's a standing offer. I'm so sorry you got clobbered so badly all at once." And he didn't reply.

(I should mention his mom had been sick for about a month, and I wrote every single week, asking how he was and if he needed anything. I did send an e-mail where I asked "How you holding up? Do you need anything?" and wrote "good thoughts" about 100 times below it and he wrote: "I'm okay." I didn't respond right away, but asked how he was the next week. I assume that is what he was talking about, but he didn't reach out to me. "I'm okay" is not exactly a reaching out.")

Now maybe I didn't fully communicate, but I don't think that this was a case of him actually reaching out to me. I don't know if there is an unsent e-mail in his drafts folder that he thought he sent, but I don't think he reached out to me in any way I could have known.

He also was frustrated with me about my 'arrogance:' But the day any highly educated expert speaking on the subject of her own field refuses to explain her position and falls back to simple appeal to authority, actually expecting me to suspend my inquiry without an explanation simply because She Has Spoken, well, there's only so much I can put up with.

I found the conversation, and I can't reprint all of it because it makes me too easily identifiable. But I mentioned a link to something I found interesting and he said: "Sorry Connie but you know that's pretty much a grocery list of everything I find reprehensible in the universe. That sort of thing makes me cranky - it's just so... *pointless*" I attempted to explain when I cared (in 2 pages) and he replied: "look at what you're calling serious Connie I mean, *look at what you're calling serious*. Sinking to the occasion isn't part of the solution, it's part of the problem. Turning the conversation into sound bites and snark is a complete waste of time. Taking sides in an argument between Dumb and Dumber is not looking into the pit, it's the pit looking into you." Then we get to my 'appeal to my own authority' that infuriated him.

You know I did my (really big professional accomplishment on that topic). That was the topic I cared enough about to be one of the largest undertakings I've ever done. (This other thing also linked, which is almost my e-mail handle and is the thing he is putting down) is one of my proudest accomplishments.

In the last five years, I've kind of lost my passion for (this other part of my work). But my respect for and engagement in (the first part) is what I still identify with out of that project. It has been a huge part of my professional work and remains part of my engagement with the intellectual side of my professional life. As I've lost interest in (the second part), I've shifted my research over more and more to (the first part).

I know you don't care for it--fine. But you don't have to put down my interest in it.

I look at that, and maybe it is a girl/guy thing, but I really don't think I was out of line. I hardly think this is a matter of me saying "I'm smarter than you." I only mentioned the accomplishments because the topic represents a huge amount of my work, and I wanted him to be maybe a little kinder about the parts of me he didn't respect.

He said that I lacked courage when he and I were together. "Honestly though Connie- it's not a revelation that you had feelings on the line - but the scale!? The scope!? You kept that from me.? I got a hell of a lot of composed small talk and not much of the steam beneath the surface.? I introduce the topic one more time:? candor!? Why now?? What was the problem?? I was open to you.? Why didn't you talk to me?"

Here's excerpts of what we wrote one evening in January of 2009:

I want to brainstorm about how I don't get badly hurt. I know you don't want to hurt me. I know you said "patience isn't rejection" but it feels like it. And I feel like this is feeding my worst insecurities.

As we both know, I like clarity and you like ambiguity. I know that you aren't certain, but it will drive me insane, so I'm wondering if there is a way we can find to way to fake it.

Would it be possible to just leave it as "we're not involved romantically" and you stop mentioning that you feel ambiguity? Treat me like a platonic friend. I don't mean to censor you--and I'm sorry to ask, but we need to find a way so it is good for both of us.

I got home from a date Saturday night and your e-mail (which was great, don't get me wrong), but you mentioned that you wouldn't need to alter your tone much if we were involved, and it just did a number on me and it makes it almost impossible for me to connect with another man because it is impossible that I'd have the intimacy with anyone else after a day or a week or a month that we have after over a year. And I can't just put my life on hold in hopes that a wind changes.

If the wind changes, then by all means, let me know and we'll see where I am at that point in my life. And if you ever care, if you want that pot to boil, and can think of ways to make it boil or test the temperature, go for it. But don't tell me your uncertainty.

Would that be something that would work for you OK? If not, what would work for you? I really do value you as a friend. I care about you a lot, and I don't want to be like arbitrary "this is the way it is." ...

You have been... less than forthcoming

Really? I absolutely thought in Sevilla I had been as straight forward with you as I've been with anyone ever.

a) I did not, did not, know that badly hurt was on the table - I cringe - you are the one person, with the possible exception of my sweet angelface baby sister, I would least like to hurt, and would never wish to put at risk of that

b) I definitely considered platonic friend the status quo and felt there was no harm done if we lingered there - I will positively electrocute myself if I've lead you on

c) I truly didn't realize it had become a concern that you might not develop with another what you and I had developed over time - though now I kick myself for not thinking of it

A) It's OK. If I get hurt, that's life. I'm a big girl. I know what I'm in for. I believe that you have to be willing to be hurt to live. The fact we're having this conversation is proof that I can take care of myself in that realm.

B) You just say things that make your ambiguity known. To me, if you say things that imply what you'd do if we were romantically involved, to me it sends a message that may not be what you meant.

C) That was why I told you over a year ago I couldn't be friends. I am inclined to believe that we have the ability to work through that, but I want to address it head on. With Edward, years and years ago, that is exactly what happened. I'm wiser than I was, but that was always the reason when I said I couldn't be your friend.

I am acutely aware of the honor you do me, Connie. I think of it every single day without fail. I know when I'm lucky.

I'm lucky to have someone to share with that I trust. But I don't want you to feel like if I bring stuff up it is a negative. It is actually something my father would love for me to do with him more than anything else on the planet!

"I'm lucky to have someone to share with that I trust."

Xeroxed my brain.

And who said anything you bring or have brought up is a negative?

I started to write: "I hope, believe and observe we are *better* than fine. Much if not all of our complaints fall into the category of "good problems to have". I persist in my unhurried approach. I acknowledge that you may respond to this as if it were a lack of zeal. I wish, without much expectation, that you could see it as a..." and then I paused and thought that oh, Connie, I do see what you want, I do see your unsatisfied craving, and I know you want a partner and I know my wait and see approach is not for you. I swear I never intended to leave you on the hook or disappoint you. And yet I cannot say "move on," because that is not my choice to make.

You know, this weekend, I very nearly, *very nearly* sent you a naughty email - knowing for a fact that you would like it - but I held back, as I always do, because I do not wish to start the sentence I can't finish.

I honestly had no idea you felt you were kept from something - I thought, perhaps, you felt you should... *pause*

I can't say still. I can't pause. I'll die inside. It will feed every single fear and insecurity I have. I remain open to possibilities. If those possibilities ever develop with you, I can't imagine ever wanting more.

But I can't put my life on hold and wait for you--I'd be impatient and frustrated. And frankly, I think I would drive you crazy.

I honestly don't think I'll find what I'm looking for. My biggest fear is I compromise again with someone like me ex, not in the same way, but compromise in a different way, and right when I start to get emotionally involved with him, it would seem like the two of us might have been a possibility and I live the rest of my life wondering what might have been.

All over town there are posters that say "He's Just Not That Into You."

Deep breaths, dear. Days don't matter. Or rather, the ones ahead do not matter as much as the ones behind. I am with you.

Only meant: no urgency, everything is fine, what we have is more valuable than what we risk...

Xoxo

Adore you,

John

And yet, this June:

I told you in the Christmas card that I assume you didn't get--I really did love you, John. So very much. More than I've ever loved anyone not in my family. You are absolutely lovable. And I really, really hope you find someone that you can trust and love and be loved. You deserve that.

Oh Connie, you're so sweet. Who knows how things might have developed had you possessed that kind of candor and bravery back in the window? You know the principal reason I held back was my worry that you were a wuss.

You have a selective memory. I kissed you once. And you turned it into a platonic kiss. And everything was on my blog. [n.b.: John had the URL and regularly read it earlier in our relationship. I asked to tell me either that he was or wasn't reading it, but he didn't and he evidently stopped reading it. I always assumed if he wanted to know how I felt, he would read it again.]

I am guilty of believing my recall is quite comprehensive on at least that and one or two more matters. I'm sorry, I didn't intend to commit some sort of topic necromancy. I was pretty sure we'd talked it to death. I'm not applying the wuss standard purely to the utter absence of courage and will, but to its insufficiency. Hahaha you were able to be open with me, just on your blog? I don't recall dating your blog :)

I'm sorry Connie, and I mean that sincerely, but my restraint was for your protection far more than it was for my own. I'm a bit of a rough ride, and you're a bit of a delicate flower. I often caught myself thinking you might emerge from your chrysalis at some point, which is why I kept (and I suppose in fairness keep) an eye on you. Two when I can spare them.

I knew that I was probably going to be hurt by you, because, for a while, I thought we were soul mates. Cheesy, yes. But true. (And truth be told, part of me is terrified I'll never meet someone I care about as much as you.) And when my friends said "he's going to hurt you" I said 'fine. The only way not to be hurt is to live in a bubble. I need to risk being vulnerable. And I'd rather deal with that, than not go for it." That was one of the bravest things I ever did. I gave so much of myself to you while you rejected me every single time. But whenever you said 'we need more time'--I believed you.

I also have to believe you knew I wanted to be with you. There's no way you didn't. The idea that if I uttered a magic word, when I threw myself at you, multiple times, that's silly. In an ideal world, we'd risk together. So when one person said "I adore you" the other would say "I adore you too." I risked and risked with you. I threw my dignity away and said "take me. I want you." You shouldn't demand that a woman say she loves you, when you aren't willing to return her statement saying "I adore you." It should be together. Not one person jumping off a cliff while the other one watches.

I want to be with someone who wants to be with me too. Not a hypothetical in the future. In actuality. Me. As I am. Flaws and all.

I did tell you I loved you once. I told you I loved you in a conversation where we were both talking about how neither of us believed we were lovable. I told you I loved you and you didn't say anything back.

So don't pin this all on me. It isn't my fault we didn't work out. Don't make me think "oh, if only I hadn't been a wuss." I think we didn't work out because each of us had fears and vulnerabilities that the other one interpreted as rejection at different moments. Either that, or you just weren't physically attracted to me.

John--I wanted some sort of closure with you. Some way to wish each other well. I do wish you well. And really support the other person in their life. To be perfectly honest, I still haven't moved on completely. I'm working on it. But I suppose, until someone touches me as deeply as you did, your impression remains with me. When I broke up with (the guy I dated last year), after nine months, I didn't miss him a bit; I thought of you. I never understood what happened. But I don't think you did either. It was just two flawed, beautiful humans in our flawed beauty. But don't say "if you had been different in this way, it would have worked." I have enough regrets in my life.

Reheated conversation, not unlike chili, sometimes tastes just as good if not better :)

YES, Connie, I have heard you!

- yes I know you spent a whole lot of time thinking that if you looked different things would be better. Yes, I really meant it when I said I liked the way you looked and didn't really care about that 1/1000ths as much as you did.

- Yes I know you thought I didn't trust you to enough to be vulnerable. Yes, I really meant it when I said that I did trust you enough, I just didn't happen to be vulnerable.

- Yes, I know you thought I was keeping you at a slight distance (loose/tight) because I was protecting myself. Yes, I really meant it when I said I was protecting you.

- hahaha YES, it's true that I caught you unready for something when I was rarin' to go. Yes, I really meant it when I said that this established a precedent in our interactions, and felt like I was *always* waiting for you to overcome just one more insecurity, just one more fear, just one more complex, just one more (to my mind) flimsy or imagined obstacle, which were it not for the respect I had (and have) for you, I would have just wrecking-balled through like the tissue paper I perceived each and every one of them to be. But not at your expense.

- I know you say you gave and risked so much, but putting your pinky toe within reach of the water splash is not the same as getting in the pool! Taping a feather to your head does not make you a chicken. Stated willingness to risk is not the same as actually doing it. Blogging your feelings is not the same as sharing them. You often behaved as if you were waiting for some sort of cosmic permission to simply trust me and trust yourself.

- Yes I know you had desire, and I hope you don't think I spent so much time with you because I was bored and needed something to do. I hope, and want very much to believe, that you know I was investing in the possibility of a future. But as above, desire to have something is not the same as capability. You think (yes, yes, a thousand times yes, I HEARD YOU) I was rejecting you, but really (as I said, sincerely, over and over) I was *waiting*.

- the flaws and all thing makes for excellent Lifetime, but in practice there are flaws which impact the viability of the project. If we were to surmount obstacles together, in a partnership, you needed to be able to *cash* those emotional checks you seemed so eager to write.

- and every time you attempted to throw away your dignity, I caught it and gave it back to you gently and with reverence.

*Whew*!

That certainly was exciting!

I love how fresh and alive this all feels (not kidding). You know, you can tell a real friend when you flip the calendar a few times and then pick up the conversation right where it left off :)

Proof we've been thinking of each other :)

Oh and another thing, while we're getting things out of our systems, I thought you were being really arrogant and that is something I have a wee spot of difficulty not going after with a bat. The precise calibration of self-perception is something I prize and respect as a fundamental virtue. Your particular bifurcation differs greatly from mine. In mine, I have come to appreciate that I am the meanest truly nice guy who ever walked the earth. I aspire to virtue, struggle to support the just, believe in anachronisms like honor and restraint and simple altruism. And I'm lucifer's personal hand of vengeance, sent down to strike the unworthy and laugh while he's doing it. I restrain the latter, until the former needs it to do right (or I get the very rare chance to take it out for recreational purposes, only when safe and responsible to do so) and otherwise I leave it in the toolbox.

You're different. Your halves are not *friends*. In some of your modes, you're wishing for the strength of another to gird you and encircle you, for another to lead so that you can be free from presenting an image you don't always feel. In others, you're dealing with the wish that you were stronger and smarter by pretending to be.

I let it go, a bunch of times, often with a mild admonishment quickly moved beyond. I'm sorry, Connie my dear, but what you think you know about the hard sciences you could put in a teacup with honey and hot water. You wouldn't know the first thing about economics if it jumped up and bit you in the face. Years of growing up with a psychologist (a fairly fringe-y one at that) have given you some terrible (and entrenched!) misconceptions about the way human beings think. Your sociology is trapped in a time machine stuck forty years in the past. Your politics are naïve to the point of auto-hate-the-other-guy and ALL of this I can dismiss with a pat on the head.

But the day any highly educated expert speaking on the subject of her own field refuses to explain her position and falls back to simple appeal to authority, actually expecting me to suspend my inquiry without an explanation simply because She Has Spoken, well, there's only so much I can put up with.

I was honestly, truly with you right up to that point. Up to that point I was willing to meander down many a fairly pointless path with you, simply because you were you, and I enjoyed picking daisies with you even though in the main I despised the picking of intellectual daisies as I hate hell and all Montagues. But it was you, and I would rather have been out picking daisies with you.

There were times, and they were many, during which I felt like you didn't entirely respect me. I am secure enough in my self-appraisal not to let that bother me... much. When you tried, for example, to educate me on the deflation spiral and I had to remind you that I read SEC filings for fun, I worried (briefly) that you thought I was much dumber than I am. But attempting a fundamental logic switcheroo on someone for whom logic is a medium of expression? I mean, I *think* in that language. From the base of your worst insecurities, and in defense of your greatest obfuscation of personal weakness, you insulted me. I got the clear impression that when it came time to prop up your fabricated mystique, you'd gladly throw your respect for me under a bus.

Something up with which I will not put. Yes, I understand you're trying to make sure you're respected as an equal. But the lady doth protest too much.

You lost respect for me, I lost respect for you. Fair trade. And it just so happened, life was full enough of its own weighty concerns that I quietly filed the matter under "things to deal with later".

Hmmm. Should I hit send? She's sounding pretty rugged, actually, which pleases me a great deal. I don't want to put cracks in her shell, but then again, I do want to be acknowledged as legitimately entitled to her respect. And I hope, hope, hope she can tell that the part I do *not* respect detracts not one molecule from the part I do. That believing myself to have some insight into her true character means that none of this bullshit is necessary. That if she has one place where she can truly be herself, "flaws and all," as it were, she should *do* so.

Because I will either a) snap down on a persona like a rat trap, or b) attempt, in my way, to deal with it gracefully by not dealing with it at all.

Hmmmm. Thinking thinking...

Oh well, fuck it.

I guess I was waiting for someone indication that you wanted to be in a romantic relationship with me. A kiss, I suppose. You were waiting for me to cash checks as much as I was waiting for you.

I wish you had taken the wrecking ball through the tissue.

Ah, well.

Tears.

Tissues.

Xanax.

Bed.

See, I could never do that, because that would put me at odds with one of your halves.

I could only reach one of them by damaging the other.

Please believe me, I wanted to take a fucking *machete* to the illusions and obstacles. But you worked so hard on them and still felt like you needed them in order to exist. I'm not going to blow your house down. If I did that, how could you know you could trust me?

Only in my restraint could you know that I cared. I would not embrace one half at the cost of the other. I would not embrace the strong, successful, entirely legitimate but incomplete Lady Chatterley, eligible bachelorette, world traveler, talented, glib, heroic... and leave innocent, vulnerable, delicate Connie out in the cold. I would not embrace the girl who longs for a Sir to keep her safe and love her, and show disrespect to the illustrious Lady Chatterley Esq.

Sadly, the only way I could show that I cared for you was by not giving either half what it wanted, because I, perhaps uniquely, perceive and care very much for *both*.

Hahaha and I wish you had been ready, truly ready, for the wrecking ball :)

I'm glad I got through everything. Somehow, or other, it seems to be helping. I realized that John and I could never have worked if I'd just been different. He would have had to have been different too. The things that bothered him, about my 'arrogance'--I really think that if that conversation had happened in person, or if he'd had a better day, it wouldn't have struck him that way. I did mention an accomplishment, but only in a "please don't put down my professional life" kind of way. He didn't reach out to me. He shut me off. There was a big fight we had in March of 2009, where he just refused to speak to me, and I sent him a copy of the e-mail about brainstorming how not to get hurt and said 'don't shut me out--you think I said something and I think I said something different--let's at least, please, talk through this.' And he did. But 2 weeks later, when he put down my professional life, I was pissed and hurt, and this his mother got sick and it all fell apart.

I never understood what happened. But I don't think he did either. It was just two flawed, beautiful humans in our flawed beauty.

I intend to actually reread my blog from the past few years, and I'm sure that will bring up some stuff. Then I want to write 2 more blog posts on this: one for what I'd like to say to John and one for what I'd like John to say to me.

And then, comes the next test. To appreciate John. To learn from John. And to let him go. Really and truly. He wanted me to be spectacular when I integrate, when I come out of my chrysalis. He wanted me to get cosmic permission to believe in myself. And I will do my best to do that.