Love-phobic

Love. It’s a sticky subject to say the least, It encompasses so much of our being from the time we’re born and bond with our parents to that first friendship to that first crush that truly teaches us what the word “crushed” means. It’s a scary prospect, love. This week, I’ve learned that for me, it’s a lot more scary than I ever realized.

No. I’m not talking about a stalker situation, though that’s a whole category that deserves discussion as love gone wrong, though I’m not sure you can categorize it as love. It’s obsession and power. I’m talking about the vulnerable side of us that we hide away from everyone except those that we deem worthy.  It’s a giving of our whole self to someone. It requires that the other person will treat that raw. squishy bit of us with care. Like the Ood holding it’s own brain in it’s hand, we’re required to trust completely.

For as long as I can remember I’ve searched for it, longed for it, dreamed of the day I’d find the one and live happily ever after with my partner in crime. From Wuthering Heights to Brief Encounter to Dracula I’ve dremed of how it could be and wished for it. (A highly romanticized view of it, anyway) While doing some deep soul searching lately and trying to figure out why it is that I have such trouble relating to people and being myself apart from my shy persona, I’ve had a kind of huge realization. I’ve been looking forever for someone to love and accept me. It feels like a lifetime of disappointing encounter after disappointing encounter where that trust I spoke of was broken and that word “crushed” came up in reference to my heart. The big revelation is a bit of a surprise to me.

I’m the problem. I’ve always been the problem.

When I look back at the way I’ve been, it’s always been me that’s pulled away. This week I finally figured out why. A memory came up that showed me just how wounded I was and a big reason not to trust people with my exposed heart. It was something that happened when I was probably five or six, a best friendship gone wrong, which has had lasting tentacles. I can see it’s effects through all of my relationships telling me that people aren’t safe. People disappoint. People hurt. Unconsciously I’ve repeated this pattern over and over again and proved myself right.

When I realized this, I had a lot of anxiety, which showed me that I was on the right track. All the over-excitement when someone showed any interest in me was actually anxiety…fear. The last time I went on a date, I had to take a sedative to breathe, I was so anxious. That should have been a clue. My extra weight…a wall to keep interest away. Even my silence and shyness, not being myself in front of people, not showing them who I am, is a wall to keep people from getting too close or from seeing the real me; to keep them from rejecting me and making me feel bad or, God forbid, liking me and down the road, making me feel worse with a bigger rejection,

It feels almost silly finding out that you’re afraid of love. Heartache is so much easier. I know how to do that and really well. I’m used to that, but being open, really vulnerable to somebody, that’s terrifying. Now, that’s not to say that I still wouldn’t love to experience it before the end of the world, it just appears that I have a lot of work to do before I can. What a weird day.

WM

 

Where’s That Shoe?

I wanted to post daily and use the daily prompts, but I’ve been a bit under the weather lately. Not sick, per se, just unhappy, stressed, you know the drill. Life stormed in when I was hoping for a slight breeze. Nothing’s quite going as I’d hoped this week, which brings me to today’s subject: Tell us about a time when everything actually turned out exactly as you’d hoped.

This was a while ago when my son was a toddler. It had been ages since I’d been out to do something I wanted to do and my family agreed to watch the boy so I could go out once. It’s been about the last time I’ve had that offer, but at the time it was so what I needed. I can’t recall how it came to my attention, but there was a vampire ball at the goth club in the city that I  had been aching to go to.

I was going to a ball.

For background, I spent my entire teenage life devouring Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles and reading as much Gothic literature as I could find with a vampire theme: Carmilla, The Vampyre by Polidori, Dracula, supposed true tales from history anthologies, short stories, you name it. It was my thing.

When the night came, I had managed to find a hair piece that was just what I needed to get my hair in to the style I was hoping for. I’ve never been able to do hair worth a damn and mine always falls, but this worked.  My dress was great, I managed to find a corset that fit, I had the boots, the makeup, and the will to get there. I set off on my own a little nervous to drive in the city. I figured that I’d never find the place and was amazed at how easy it was and not only that, for any of you familiar with San Francisco, I actually managed to find a parking space! Downtown! I was maybe a half block away.

Now, my shyness makes things impossible for me when I go places alone. I end up going and standing on my own like the Smiths’ song goes. I went in not quite knowing what to expect. I had my idea of going and finding a nice quiet corner where I could sit and watch people. I managed to find that and a drink, checked my bag and then wandered.

The second I stepped into the downstairs space I felt like I had suddenly landed on my home planet. Everyone was if not elegant, in something that I could admire. The lights were dim and cycled red and white, the dance floor was full, there were men in top hats and velvet coats, women in gowns, kids dressed like the frog brothers from The Lost Boys and a guy even dressed as Blade. I was an appreciative audience.

Everything that came on was a song that I knew and most I knew every word to. I walked down the stairs slowly with my gown in my hands and managed to get some male attention. My shyness undid me a bit, but I felt so at home there just watching people.

I met a woman who said I did the place justice with my demeanor and struck up a conversation. In the midst of it all, I had the perfect moment. The music suddenly changed tempo and everyone came out to the dance floor for a waltz. Women with their dresses twirling and the men with their coats flowing out behind them as they spun; it was my dream. The only thing better would have been if I’d had a partner to dance that waltz with.

It has been a wish of mine ever since that I will find someone willing to wear an outfit like that and waltz with me as my Dracula at the Vampire Ball. One day I may. That night, I had no idea, but the guy who would become my future best friend was in the crowd. I had no idea that a few weeks later I’d meet him and start a grand adventure. It was a beautiful beginning and a great night.

Hung Up

So, today. I’ve been doing my daily gratitude but I’ve kept it to myself for the most part. I spend a few minutes reflecting in some quiet if I can on how lucky I am. Today, I was lucky enough to bring my boy with me to work and to have a somewhat quiet day. A little too quiet actually.

I don’t really know what it’s going to take to open my eyes. I’ve decided to give up completely on the quest for love because, well, it’s enough already. There’s some burnout from all the trying, focusing and striving. I always had in the back of my mind though that maybe, just maybe something would finally tip the balance with DG. I’ve waited, I’ve hoped, I’ve tried. The truth is, the answer really is and always has been right there. I just don’t want to see it.

I’ve seen really clearly this week. I’ve made every dumb mistake in the book. I’ve waited by the phone. I’ve made excuses. I’ve accepted excuses but the truth is, everything really points to him just not being into me, for real. I’m broken down. I’m tired of trying to make something happen that just isn’t. Sometimes you want something so much that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. If it was real and meant to be, there would be nothing stopping the guy from doing everything in his power to be near me, either physically, by email, snail mail or phone. That’s what guys do apparently. If they want you, they show it through actions. No sweet talk or apologies needed. If he’s not chasing, he’s looking over the other wildebeest on the Serengeti.

Somehow the titles of “Miss Backup Plan” and “The One Until a Better One Comes Along” weren’t my dream achievements as a little girl.

So, I guess today, no matter how bad it feels,  I’m grateful for clarity.  I should respect myself more than to wait for someone who shows no interest in being with me…I’ve spent far too long looking for someone to love me instead knowing my value and operating from a place of asking who deserves me instead of who will have me. As I just read recently,  settling for someone who’s endgame isn’t me makes no sense. Yeah, the guy may never show up. I could be wrong but feeling bad all the time should tell me something about the truth I’m not seeing. I should be thankful to know now I suppose, to see with my brain instead of my heart so that I can machete through all the emotional BS. I need to remember that Big, despite the Hollywood happy ending, was really never all in or ever all out. There’s a word for that, “Limbo”. As the lovely meme lady says,”Aint nobody got time for that.”

Day 12 – Victory!

I wanted to say that my proudest accomplishment was my son, but I can’t really take credit for that, at least not all the way. I steer a little here and there but he’s his own driver. It’s also a cop out answer.

An accomplishment should be something that you plan and work toward and complete from beginning to end without quitting. That’s what makes my answer hard. I’m not really great at celebrating victories or taking note of small steps, which really is a lousy habit. I tend to notice the things I didn’t do. I never learned to swim. I can’t ride a bike (no, really), I never got that degree out of indecision…

An accomplishment is something that should have you falling asleep in your corn flakes, buying extra concealer for the dark circles, and drowning in coffee. Thinking back, I do this every year in a contest called NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month, It’s really more of a challenge than a contest because you don’t really win anything other than a little winners badge and the satisfaction of knowing you’ve written 50,000 words. I’ve finished every year for the past few. I have a bunch of almost-books in the wings just sitting there waiting to become something. 

One of them, however, I actually went back to, revised, revised again, and revised again until I had a 300 page piece of…work. I stayed up day and night for weeks. I drank tons of coffee. My eyes went blurry. I did laps. I procrastinated. I tore out hair, I yelled out loud and sat alone at my desk in the middle of a world of my own making. It was mostly a filthy world because I was too tired and engrossed to do much cleaning, or actually anything else, but hey, I was dedicated. I wrote when I hated writing. I had fantastic moments of sudden inspiration. I came up with things that were amazing that I can’t believe I wrote and then I came up with things that were horrid that I can’t believe I wrote. The experience was both wonderful and so much more difficult than I can ever describe.

The book is still nowhere near perfect. It’s still not agent ready let alone sitting on a book store shelf, but I did see the story to the end. I fleshed it out and I intend to keep working on it until it is something that people will read. Now those people may be the population of my office and my family home, but hey, it’s people!

The point really is that I finally did have that experience of seeing something through. I know now that I can do it. The next time it will be a little easier and hopefully a lot better. I hope to have book signings and maybe a graphic novel (and maybe people arguing on a forum about what some nit picky thing in one of my chapters really was supposed to mean) one day. Why not dream big? There’s nothing to lose by dreaming. Anything can happen. Make it big and then a little bigger! I just want fan boys! Not too much to ask…

Day 11 – Bad Dates

Let’s see, my worst, funniest, or most embarrassing date…I’m not really into dating in the formal sense. I usually like to get to know someone for a while first in a casual sense before heading in that direction, hanging out as friends. When I go down the road of thinking  about the actual dates I have gone on, they’re all kind of depressingly bad.

Let’s see, I had the guy that climbed up the side of my house to sneak in and scare me to death, the guy who told me I had big legs (supposed to be a pick-up line??), the guy who made me a fetish box full of nail clippings (ew!), and then the guy I dated last.

I went to have my car worked on and the mechanic asked me out. I liked that he seemed nervous and I couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually asked me on a date. I decided to have coffee, actually tea, with him at my favorite book store. I figured at least I’d be in a place I liked if it didn’t work out. We talked for a while about this and that. He’d almost become a priest but didn’t because he liked new wave, which I found hilarious as a visual. Why not put on the vestments and dance around to a little Echo and the Bunnymen, you know?

Anyway, it was ok, though I was nervous and a bit uneasy the whole time. He asked if he could see me home. I declined but we made a date for the weekend. He went in to kiss me but I couldn’t do it. Just not that quick and to be frank, I hated his cologne. I’m big with smells. That should have been my first red flag…

Just why I went out on a second date with him I don’t know. I figured if the guy could hang with me at the cemetery, a place where I was likely to feel comfortable, then it would be a good sign. I met him at the garage (he smelled like grease which was oodles better than that cologne!) and told him where to meet me. He was up for it. I went to the store to get almonds and coconut coated dates and rushed to make it back to meet him at the time we agreed on. Well, I was there, got it set up and waited. I had the kid with me, which was unorthodox, but the guy thought it was sweet so that was another check in the good column. Still, I should have gone with my gut…

It was a peaceful Saturday afternoon with a nice breeze blowing the leaves on the hanging branches. No one was around. The kid was climbing the nearby trees having fun, and I waited. Then I waited some more. When I finally decided to break into the almonds, he finally showed up. I asked what had taken so long. He’d decided to go home and shower so he didn’t smell like garage. That’s right, the cologne! It carried on the breeze like the noxious fume it was. I tried to ignore it and we started chatting. It was pleasant enough until he made an off-handed comment about it being his lucky day because he could see my underwear. Soon, he was onto his favorite physical, intimate activities and asking me questions about mine.

After about 15 minutes straight of my trying to change the subject and him keeping on the intimate track, I asked him point blank. “Are you actually interested in me at all or looking to have a relationship?” He point blank said “No”. I was shocked to have him be so blatant but at that point I realized that a funeral procession was on the way up the drive and that we were in a bad spot. Unable to help myself, I watched the service  as I packed up wondering if I knew anyone affiliated with work. He suggested we go back to my place. Flabbergasted, I said I wasn’t comfortable with that as I hadn’t cleaned for company. I had my son with me for crying out loud! He then dropped the doozy I’ll never forget.

“I want to see where you sleep.”

I was so creeped out I wanted to run. I thought back to his wanting to follow me home the first night and was feeling close to a panic attack. As we walked to the cars to leave, he tried again to kiss me, rather forcefully and I managed to fight him off. He told me he could be extremely persuasive and told me to call him, mouthing “Call me” as he drove past out the gate. I just felt dirty and took the kid to visit grandma, not wanting to drive home. I didn’t call. Oh no, no I didn’t. It wasn’t so funny, or embarrassing, but it was by far the worst, at least since high school which pretty much says it all.

Day 8 – Five to Wish On

Today’s challenge is to whittle down the floor length scroll of traits into…Five things that are most important to you in a future mate. This one was much easier than I expected considering that I started with a laundry list of no less than… *cough* fifty *cough*… things on my already reduced list of must-have traits that I wanted in a mate and I felt that each and every one of those things was a priority. As kids we all have summer afternoons where we lay in the grass and daydream about our true love, about what they should look like (our movie star crush), how they dress (like our pop star crush) and what they like (mainly everything about us)…

Being much older than that 12 year old pining over my Sixteen Magazine, different things come to the forefront. The sheer number of criteria could have made me miss out on the core, happiness inducing soul of the matter. So the nominees for best quality in a leading man are …

He Gets Me ~ This is sort of a tall order. As anyone who’s read more than one of my entries can see, I’m challenging to say the least. I can be pretty random jumping to everything from the Vermicious Knids from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to Blanche DuBois in Streetcar to the Jaffa from Stargate and a million other things. I can’t help it. I will go on a tangent and make a joke out of something at the drop of a hat and it would really be helpful if the guy would, you know, laugh…or even better, have a corresponding dry response. Nothing’s better than having someone get the ins and outs of your thinking and spending time doing things with someone who knows what you’re going on about. If he comes out with random exclamations too? He’s a keeper.

He’s Committed ~ This doesn’t mean he’s situated in the cell next to me, though that might not hurt in understanding me some days. What I mean is that he’s the kind of guy who’s at the point in his life that relationships are a priority.  He will be giving of his time and attention. The immature macho stunts are behind him, which is not to say that every night is spent behind tv trays doing the daily crossword… but he doesn’t have to prove anything by jumping off big rocks or breaking his hand on some guy’s face because he’s a  grown up. He’ll understand that relationships take consistent effort and won’t assume ever that I’m a foregone conclusion or take our life together for granted. He won’t risk us on impulsive stupidity, midlife crisis car excluded.

Matching Values~ Everyone has a different idea of what constitutes “values”. I’m no different. For me, I’m really adamant about what I believe and what I can’t deal with around myself or my son. We love and respect everyone equally in our house regardless of gender, race or orientation. (Actually, I might like drag queens a bit more than everybody else.) I can set my opinion of a person by how he treats animals…and waiters at restaurants. If you’re trying to be impressive by making anyone feel less than, you’re out, Buddy! Bullying doesn’t fly! Neither does selfishness. The things we believe in are the core of who we are and should be the deal breakers. Seriously, be a gentleman…

The Art of Fatherhood~ It may not be fair to thrust upon any guy, but I’m a package deal. My kid comes first. I have to think of what’s best for him before making any big moves or changes. I also have to consider if the guy, who might meet all of my personal criteria, is going to be a good dad to my son. Is he stable? Is he reliable? Is he supportive and patient? Will he love my son as if he were his own? Will he sell the boy to the Goblin King? As a mother, these concerns are HUGE. As the all too harrowing teen years approach, my son is going to need an image of masculinity to look to for guidance on how to be a man, and I’d rather that not be Tony Stark…well, the science part is good… or someone from Jackass. That’s another tall order and enough to make a guy run for the hills, unless he’s the right guy.

How He Makes Me Feel~ I learned a while ago that more than any list of things a guy could be, if he makes you feel unwanted, like an inconvenience, or just not important to him, no amount of money or movie star good looks will do anything to fix it. I’ve spent most of my life being criticized and having my judgment questioned.  I’ve been around a lot of mean men who love to make mean jokes at my expense; who love to get me upset for their own amusement…so that’s why I feel so strongly about this one.

First comes feeling loved,supported, listened to, and respected… Feeling cherished and adored is up there too along with wanted and missed.

I want, well, Gomez Addams.

When Morticia walks into the room, his eyes never deviate from her. She is the only woman on earth. He has never, after however many years, stopped showering her with attention and she thrives because of it. They definitely found just their kind of weird in each other and appreciate every second. It’s my picture of perfect, solid and long lasting and quite frankly, I could use a guy who wouldn’t mind hanging out with me in the cemetery.