My last relationship ended before I could even unpack from our trip last weekend to Toronto. My bag lies within feet of my front door and mocks my latest failed attempt. The foam finger peeks out of the zipper and points in my direction as if to say, “I told you so”. The parking ticket I’ve received from parking at her house in order to then drive past my house to travel towards the north country is now the last memory in my possession. This isn’t a roast or a sad story, it’s a final plea. For advice, suggestions, and most importantly positive reinforcement.
This is an ongoing story about my struggle with my unwillingness to involuntarily be left alone in life. I imagine water boarding to be compared to my Sunday nights. My tortured worries and fears fill my mind to the point where it no longer allows any available room for sleep. I’m a natural born loner on my terms, but my soul weeps when I no longer have a say in the matter. It’s human nature to want companionship and I envy it when it’s entangled with compassion and physical emotions. My life would be easy for me if I didn’t desire a whispered “goodnight”, or the unexpected kiss from another. I wonder how simple it would be to no longer care to see a smile that I contributed to. I wish I could be perfectly conceded, sleep nine hours every night and have an empty heart that I could fill with all things selfish. I can not. I will worry and think about it and wonder; what if. Please allow me this opportunity to release these frustrations without any further judgment. I can’t mask this hole with misguided hope and pity. Family, friendships, and pre-occupied activities will never replace my desire to intimately share my life with another that I respect and admire.
Whether it’s four dates, six months or years; grasping possibility and relinquishing it to improbability never gets easier for me. Even if it’s the most brutal circumstance or mutual agreement, I am still hesitant to allow another person to vanish from my life. Each and every time this happens, a piece of my heart has been torn apart and carelessly taped back into its rightful place. At the age of thirty-four, this is becoming more and more difficult to disguise with my cautious optimism and sarcastic smile that represents my belief that this time will be different. I envy those that find love as natural as I do air. I understand that my broken record is one that you’ve never played and my brown grass appears greener than ever from afar. However, this is my heart speaking the truth that I would never represent to you as an outsider. I’m chopping logs, drinking Jameson and spitting hand grown tobacco down my irresponsibly groomed beard on the outside. Mentally, I’m listening to Damien Rice and drowning my sorrows in multiple glasses of red wine. Between pacing and refusing to take sleeping pills, I count down the hours until Sundays turn into Mondays. Where I can forcefully interrupt my worries with tasks that have very little personal meaning to me. This is welcomed as an alternative substitute for an occasional hangover and couch ridden session filled with self sorrows.
Dating has become an interview process to convince someone as quickly as possible that I’m normal and that my erratic intentions are harmless and are often misinterpreted because of my strong desire to share it with someone. My heart pounds. The kind of beat that can leap out of my chest and is often seen before felt. It’s a consistent déjà vu process in trying to convince a complete stranger that I’m quite normal and worthy of their time, regardless of my obvious failures. The more I try, the harder I fall. The nicer I am, the quicker I’m left. Not only is this process and interview but it’s a fucking crap shoot as to how to go about the entire process. If anyone says differently, or I have to listen to “just be yourself” one more time, it’s all bullshit. Call – Don’t call. Be nice – Act like you don’t care. Go slow – Show interest. Want them to call – Doesn’t Matter. Let it come natural – Make an effort. I’m a strong believer in stepping stones and learning from your previous mistakes, but dating is a snowflake. It’s an unpredictable course of action that is judged by another no matter where your intentions lie. It’s something that I can’t accept.
Every date and relationship is comprised from bullshit and blossoms into toleration and gives way to love. I feel as though I am Red from Shawshank Redemption trying to convince a female parole officer (date) that I am worthy of their time. Their opportunity to give me the chance that I so desperately want and deserve. Allowing the day where my mistakes can be overlooked because walking away is no longer an option. I am still capable of making as many, if not more mistakes as I did when I was the ripe age of sixteen. I need a strong, confident woman that can wipe away my dust and see the potential that I am willing to offer on a permanent basis if given the opportunity. Like Red, every date consists of conversations regarding my likes, hobbies, and intentions. “In four years…Where do I see myself ?” Please. I’m like Bill F’n Murray in Groundhogs Day with these common folk questions. And yes, I always drink to world peace. Dumped. Gives up. Isn’t working. We are better off as friends. In other words – Love Denied.
Love/Opportunity? I have no idea what this means. To me, it’s a made up word(s). Something people that marry their college sweetheart made up while they are living in the house their parents bought for them. It’s the anti-virgin status young ladies desire in order to fit in with their peers. It’s no longer a necessity that our parents needed to financially survive. It’s not compelled from Ryan Gosling and the 365 letters in which he wrote. Love often comes head strong with security and comfort. The risk and love reward our grandparents discovered is long gone. It’s no longer an expression of love as it is a label. Am I sorry for what I did? My failed relationships, my actions that may have lead me to unwillingly lose someone I care for? To want love and not the label. To read the book and dispose of the cover? No. I look back at the way I was at that time. A young passionate kid that made out in fields after football games. Who held someone’s hand and felt as clammy on this outside as the insides. Because that is where my passion is derived from still, to this day. If telling you that I don’t give a shit about love works, then so be it. I’ll lie. I just want the opportunity to prove myself when the opportunity presents itself.
Last week I uncontrollably vomited wrong answers and dug myself a hole in order to bury my true self that will never be discovered by this particular individual. I’m not upset per say that it did not work out, as our personalities differed. What bothers me is that I was so passionate at being given a chance that I began to treat “it” how I wanted to be treated and thus, it quickly pushed it in a direction that I was not particularly familiar with. It was laced with desperation and much needed assurance that getting to know one another would take steps forward and not backwards with awkward pauses. Now, I am perceived as someone I am not because I did not handle this with grace. There was no convincing otherwise and I knew it. It’s a shame that my leniency towards our differences were quickly overlooked by desire to feel that what was expected of me, was for her as well. Chivalry gave way to equality, but does equality even exist while dating? Are you held as accountable as another? These are lessens that I will gladly take with me and stumble over again at the most inappropriate time possible. (my next date).
Physical attraction and similarities are attributes that I am not going to overlook. I fully understand that not everything is meant to be. That someone could be thousands of miles away that is as compatible to me as I am to her and one day, in this life or another, I will understand why this is the path I was given. Being alone is something that I tolerate. Being left alone, rips away at my heart and diminishes what little self esteem I have left. As each day passes, loved ones that do remain in my life are quickly being replaced and relocated. Life’s claw has grasped them and I am left to defend myself in this deafening silence.
Please allow me to separate gratefulness and this pipe dream with a bold black and white line. Understand that letting go of hope and desire is not an option that I will ever be fully committed to. Again, know that I appreciate the opportunity to allow my heart to speak on my behalf. The sunrise will always bring hope where it once was forgotten. My head is being held high. I just want opportunity. Help. Advice. I want to reach out to someone, to find more opportunity. I’m not opposed to starting a Youtube campaign. I refuse to allow myself to drown in wasted days. This is me reaching out to you. A friend, Family member, or complete stranger. How can I over come my heart aches? What can I do to start this first day to the rest of my life with another?
I find myself in a revolving door that may require a different answer. Even one that I do not think is desirable. Perhaps I need to make some changes that will guide me in a different direction and grant me new found hope. If you have any suggestions, I beg for your time. Advice. Comments.
Thank you so much for your support.
Now, off to grow a beard.