the talk
N openly admits he’s a homebody. This is something new for me. We all place inherent value on certain behaviors, for better or for worse. We think getting out and doing things is better than relaxing at home. It has been a huge relief to admit when “tonight, I’d rather stay in.” The real trick is balance - time at home makes going out more exciting, active adventure makes restful evenings sweeter. All things in moderation.
On a Friday before Christmas, we went out for a nice dinner. We ordered family style; he drank wine, I had a cocktail. The spicy tofu numbed my tongue; I couldn’t taste the cocktail.
I tried to express all the new thoughts I had had in the previous week. I followed his advice and spoke to my boss about new strategies for when I’m stuck at work. A friend of mine “wants more money” with no apologetic explanation of why. What does he think of this? I tried to unravel my mind to him, attempting to let him in. Asking at all times, “what do you think of all of this?” What do you think of me?
The streets were bone cold. We ran from the restaurant to his car, and then into his apartment after the drive.
--
“Did you want to have a conversation about expectations and boundaries?” he asked me, mirroring my language from the previous week, after we had exhausted all other topics of conversation.
“Yes,” I paused, trying to allow him space.
“When should we do that?”
“It was my idea, so I am respectfully waiting until you are ready,” I told him.
“Oh. Okay well, how about now?”
No need to dither, this is my favorite conversation. Let’s just lay out the cards and see how they match. “I think you are pretty cool,” I started. The truth. “I’m looking for something serious; I know it won’t happen immediately, but I think you are worth investing in.” And then the hedge, “But really I’m open to however you want to proceed.”
He was silent for a moment. “The thing is, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”
I exhaled involuntarily.
“It’s just,” he went on, “I’ve always been in relationships.” Another aspect in which we are similar. “I’m learning how to be by myself.”
This is a bullshit excuse. No, it could be legitimate. The things he’s told me – it sounds like he really is thinking a lot about his role in the world. But how does self-exploration preclude a partner? It’s me he doesn’t want. That’s it. Maybe not.
And that’s what it is. In these conversations between two parties, the boundary will fall at the more conservative position. He wants to be friends, I want to be friends and…
We will be friends.
--
We fell asleep in our now-familiar companionship. His skin feels good on mine.
He scrounged for creamer in the morning. “I can drink coffee black,” but I smiled at him as he placed a carton of coconut something in my hands. We sat on the couch listening to the Charlie Brown Christmas Soundtrack.
“I… I got you a just-in-case Christmas present,” I ventured. Just in case last night had ended differently, just in case you had gotten me something too.
“Really?”
“Yes.” I pretended to blush. But for me (and for him too, I know – goddammit we’re too fucking similar) Christmas presents come from a process of thinking about the person. Listening to their interests intently and finding a perfect little something to make them happy. Once purchased they can’t be returned.
He walked me to my car and opened the dog-print wrapping paper on the trunk. A whirley-pop popcorn pot. He smiled. “This is really great,” he said. “Thank you.”
--
And that’s what it is. In these conversations between two parties, the boundary will fall at the more conservative position. He wants to be friends, I want to be friends and…
We will be friends.
--
We fell asleep in our now-familiar companionship. His skin feels good on mine.
He scrounged for creamer in the morning. “I can drink coffee black,” but I smiled at him as he placed a carton of coconut something in my hands. We sat on the couch listening to the Charlie Brown Christmas Soundtrack.
“I… I got you a just-in-case Christmas present,” I ventured. Just in case last night had ended differently, just in case you had gotten me something too.
“Really?”
“Yes.” I pretended to blush. But for me (and for him too, I know – goddammit we’re too fucking similar) Christmas presents come from a process of thinking about the person. Listening to their interests intently and finding a perfect little something to make them happy. Once purchased they can’t be returned.
He walked me to my car and opened the dog-print wrapping paper on the trunk. A whirley-pop popcorn pot. He smiled. “This is really great,” he said. “Thank you.”
--
I keep asking myself if a great Injustice has been done to me. I know this isn't unfair, and is simply the unwinding story of unmatched interests. But the mark of a Tragedy would help justify the pain I'm feeling.
My mom stayed with me before Christmas, I slept on the couch. I was glad to fall asleep with the TV, tears sliding unbidden down my cheeks.
--
“Hey wait, how did it go with N?” April asked me three days later. Telling my sister makes it real.
Keeping it from her protects my denial.
“Oh,” I said, shaken out of a fragile bubble I had built for myself. “It wasn’t what I hoped for.”
I'm glad to have had the conversation with him. For me, the most uncomfortable part of dating is not knowing. Again, if I could give unsolicited advice - I do, often - it is to say what you feel. At least we are on transparent – if not equal – footing now.
N has the makings of a good Dating Partner. He's communicative, emotionally intelligent. I think we'll be good friends.
“Have you had a relationship like this before?” I asked him.
“Not really,” he replied.
“It can be really great,” I told him. I tried to balance the conflicting desire to explain my experience and the societal norm to avoid talking about past relationships. I told him about my past dating partner. He supported me unconditionally. The friendship was so strong we had to keep checking in to make sure it wasn’t something more. And when I found someone I was interested in, he gladly let me go to explore the opportunity.
--
“But that’s ridiculous,” a friend called me out when I told her the story. “You can spend your time exploring your life independently and still enjoy your time with someone.”
“I think,” she told me, “we have these preconceived notions of relationships as boyfriend and girlfriend. There is an unnecessary idea of ownership there. The way I like to approach it is this: I’m enjoying my time with you and would like to continue spending time with you until I no longer enjoy it. The only thing you owe that person is to be human and communicate appropriately in the ever-changing circumstances and boundaries of that relationship.”
“And even that word - relationship – it means so much more than we allow it to,” I agreed.
“I have a relationship with you,” she offered, “I have a relationship with my mom.”
We have these constructs about relationships, about what they should and shouldn’t be. I try not to limit myself by the pre-defined boundaries. People are not square and rigid, nor are our interactions.
She told me about her new relationship, she was giddy.
“We communicate on the same level. When I do weird things he's right there with me and plays along... It's so fun.”
She is excited about him. She’s cautious. I want to tell her to dive in, that’s my instinct.
“He looks at me like it's the most incredible thing he's ever seen, and I don't think he's kidding.” She told me she doesn’t think she deserves to be this lucky. I can understand that feeling, but of course she deserves it. I sat, introspective, grateful when my sister carried our half of the conversation. Why? Why is this? She’s so young. She looks so happy.
It sounds real. This is what I want. Not the vague dancing around each other, wondering what is going to happen.
--
An imagined conversation:
Me: Thank you for being so honest with me. No, really. The thing is, I’m really fantastic. The partner I’m aiming for will see that and value me. So thank you for your clarity. It helps me to be decisive.
--
“But there is a chance it may become something more?” my friend asked me.
“Maybe. But I have to let go of that idea. Pining for him would dishonor the boundaries he has set for our relationship. It wouldn’t be a healthy friendship if I broke that first understanding.”
--
“I find you intriguing,” N told me that night. He paused. “You’re weird. And that’s a good thing. That’s good for me.” He tried to offer me a window.
I’ve been there before, on the other side of that equation. What it would mean from my lips is “You’re great, truly. Please don’t leave yet, but I’m not convinced about you.”
I haven’t been on this side of it before. The trouble is – and I could be projecting here – we’re so similar that I understand him. It’s like, “Please be here with me, but it can’t be what you want.”
--
An imagined conversation:
Me: What do you think about authenticity? I find it confounding. Who you are is necessarily a product of your social interaction, but how do you act as yourself without being directly influenced by others in any given moment? “Be yourself,” they say. Who is that?
Me: How do you manage to act so authentically? How do you have so much confidence? How do you tell me these things about yourself so easily, making me question who I am and how I act? How do you not see this as something special? Maybe you are the special one. Maybe I’m not ready for you yet.
--
This hapless character I’ve been living in, she has got to go. I’m killing her – today.
--
The initial sting is fading. I'm left again with my irretrievable loneliness.
I'm learning how to be on my own, he told me. An experience I can recognize and often think I've conquered. And then I lay in bed, listening to engaged friends speaking softly to one another in the next room. The evening conversation, the bluest depths of intimacy.
I'm still here.
Dating Soundtrack:
Hot Coals, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
Hot coals
Heady, the musk of cinder love
Ashes beneath her tender rug
And then alternately:
Black Lipstick by Chicano Batman
Her blood was red, but now it's blue
She no longer smiles at you
...
Because its true she's a gangster with her emotion
A capitalist with her affection
My mom stayed with me before Christmas, I slept on the couch. I was glad to fall asleep with the TV, tears sliding unbidden down my cheeks.
--
“Hey wait, how did it go with N?” April asked me three days later. Telling my sister makes it real.
Keeping it from her protects my denial.
“Oh,” I said, shaken out of a fragile bubble I had built for myself. “It wasn’t what I hoped for.”
I'm glad to have had the conversation with him. For me, the most uncomfortable part of dating is not knowing. Again, if I could give unsolicited advice - I do, often - it is to say what you feel. At least we are on transparent – if not equal – footing now.
N has the makings of a good Dating Partner. He's communicative, emotionally intelligent. I think we'll be good friends.
“Have you had a relationship like this before?” I asked him.
“Not really,” he replied.
“It can be really great,” I told him. I tried to balance the conflicting desire to explain my experience and the societal norm to avoid talking about past relationships. I told him about my past dating partner. He supported me unconditionally. The friendship was so strong we had to keep checking in to make sure it wasn’t something more. And when I found someone I was interested in, he gladly let me go to explore the opportunity.
--
“But that’s ridiculous,” a friend called me out when I told her the story. “You can spend your time exploring your life independently and still enjoy your time with someone.”
“I think,” she told me, “we have these preconceived notions of relationships as boyfriend and girlfriend. There is an unnecessary idea of ownership there. The way I like to approach it is this: I’m enjoying my time with you and would like to continue spending time with you until I no longer enjoy it. The only thing you owe that person is to be human and communicate appropriately in the ever-changing circumstances and boundaries of that relationship.”
“And even that word - relationship – it means so much more than we allow it to,” I agreed.
“I have a relationship with you,” she offered, “I have a relationship with my mom.”
We have these constructs about relationships, about what they should and shouldn’t be. I try not to limit myself by the pre-defined boundaries. People are not square and rigid, nor are our interactions.
She told me about her new relationship, she was giddy.
“We communicate on the same level. When I do weird things he's right there with me and plays along... It's so fun.”
She is excited about him. She’s cautious. I want to tell her to dive in, that’s my instinct.
“He looks at me like it's the most incredible thing he's ever seen, and I don't think he's kidding.” She told me she doesn’t think she deserves to be this lucky. I can understand that feeling, but of course she deserves it. I sat, introspective, grateful when my sister carried our half of the conversation. Why? Why is this? She’s so young. She looks so happy.
It sounds real. This is what I want. Not the vague dancing around each other, wondering what is going to happen.
--
An imagined conversation:
Me: Thank you for being so honest with me. No, really. The thing is, I’m really fantastic. The partner I’m aiming for will see that and value me. So thank you for your clarity. It helps me to be decisive.
--
“But there is a chance it may become something more?” my friend asked me.
“Maybe. But I have to let go of that idea. Pining for him would dishonor the boundaries he has set for our relationship. It wouldn’t be a healthy friendship if I broke that first understanding.”
--
“I find you intriguing,” N told me that night. He paused. “You’re weird. And that’s a good thing. That’s good for me.” He tried to offer me a window.
I’ve been there before, on the other side of that equation. What it would mean from my lips is “You’re great, truly. Please don’t leave yet, but I’m not convinced about you.”
I haven’t been on this side of it before. The trouble is – and I could be projecting here – we’re so similar that I understand him. It’s like, “Please be here with me, but it can’t be what you want.”
--
An imagined conversation:
Me: What do you think about authenticity? I find it confounding. Who you are is necessarily a product of your social interaction, but how do you act as yourself without being directly influenced by others in any given moment? “Be yourself,” they say. Who is that?
Me: How do you manage to act so authentically? How do you have so much confidence? How do you tell me these things about yourself so easily, making me question who I am and how I act? How do you not see this as something special? Maybe you are the special one. Maybe I’m not ready for you yet.
--
This hapless character I’ve been living in, she has got to go. I’m killing her – today.
--
The initial sting is fading. I'm left again with my irretrievable loneliness.
I'm learning how to be on my own, he told me. An experience I can recognize and often think I've conquered. And then I lay in bed, listening to engaged friends speaking softly to one another in the next room. The evening conversation, the bluest depths of intimacy.
I'm still here.
Dating Soundtrack:
Hot Coals, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes
Hot coals
Heady, the musk of cinder love
Ashes beneath her tender rug
And then alternately:
Black Lipstick by Chicano Batman
Her blood was red, but now it's blue
She no longer smiles at you
...
Because its true she's a gangster with her emotion
A capitalist with her affection
Comments
Post a Comment