After my divorce, curiosity became my driving force. Alongside fear, which is an interesting combination. See earlier posts (and future posts – my crystal ball is spot on with this one). I grew up in the same city that I attended college. In fact, I want to school in the same two block radius for all of my education. I followed the rules – go to school, meet man, get good job, get married, buy house, have kids, buy bigger house, blah blah blah. Except I stopped at the “buy house” instruction. And to be honest, I wasn’t really following the prescribed order of things. But I felt like I was still being true to what I knew to be my life path. Except.
I shed that skin and felt air enter my lungs. The veil was removed. I yearned for new experiences, new places, new people, new ideology. There started my wanderlust. Since I am a rule follower, I did not jump straight to backpacking through Asia, living in Bali, learning to macramé and teaching yoga. I still dream of that. But I felt like paying bills so I found a job, moved away, and travelled the world.
This is a really long fucking way of telling you about this time I was in London. See, I didn’t want to just start with that because I didn’t want you to judge me for being so pompous. Anyway, I was in London and went to see Tina Turner, the musical in West End. Tina had a rough life – but she kept the absolute of who she was regardless of who wanted to demean her, condescend her, beat her, and keep her from her true potential. Tonight, What’s Love Got to Do with It? is on replay in my head. Not because anyone is treating me the way Tina was treated – but because, what the fuck is this emotion. No question mark. I know you all agree.
It is also on replay because I was there with one of my best friends and my favorite travel buddy. I was dating another man, but the man I was travelling with seemed to understand me. He guided me through crowds when I was on sensory overload; he let me ramble about my hopes and dreams; he danced with me; he laughed at my jokes; he even picked bookstores that he knew I would love. He felt like coming home. At the time, he didn’t live in my city. He lived in a different time zone in fact. Had his own life. Had a beard and long hair or not, mainly I didn’t know his daily decisions and that was fine by me. But when one of his emails hit my inbox or his endearing text messages arrived on my phone, I felt warmth radiate through my body.
It’s obvious right – I love this guy. So when he moved to Seattle, I broke up with my guy. I took a break from dating, thinking I was losing my fucking mind. But I wasn’t – I loved him. And I loved me enough to tell him. We have loved each other in the motherfucking public for over a year now.
But I think we may kill each other. Don’t worry, it will be a coffin built for two (thanks Jessie Reyez + Eminem). What I mean is – we are going to eat each other alive. Again, a la Jessie Reyez:
Love you in the worst way,
You knock me down like a heavy weight
We fell in love got KO, oh oh
Too damn young so we broke up, no go
So much for a wedding date
I know nobody gets out of love alive
We either break up when we’re young or we say goodbye when we die
For a moment at least, I know you were mine and it was beautiful
But winter comes and roses don’t survive
It’s getting late and I should go
But I wanna hold ya like its June in the west end
Back when you were my best friend
Before love came to kill us
We’re not supposed to
But I can’t learn my lesson
I miss when you were my best friend
Before love came to kill us
Under the mask of the moon, can we dance in the past
Before love, before love came to kill us
I am scared of this ending. Is it quarantine? Did we move the relationship too fast? Am I flawed? Is he flawed? And if all of these played some role, can we course correct? Or, is it just done. And I need to now analyze what my lessons are.
Aside from these very basic, elementary questions on blame and guilt, I guess I am really digging dip on how romantic love changed everything. Before the “I love you” was uttered, we were a really beautiful enigma. Like, really beautiful. Full of flaws and acceptance. The unicorn of relationships. I miss when he was my best friend. But now it all feels so complicated, and I can’t unwind the yarn to determine what’s just plain bullshit and what is still at the core of this relationship.
Do you find yourself wondering about your most intimate relationship? I find myself pulled between the investment and getting out alive. Maybe if we pull the plug now, we can still be friends. But if we pull the plug now, are we ultimately missing out on the return of the investment.
And let’s just talk about being of a “certain age” and still dating. Words that come to mind: broken, damaged, sex-addict, closeted, project. No offense needed. But we have been there, right? Swiping on Tinder, judging people without knowing their circumstances. I am 35 and divorced. And this is the only relationship since that has lasted a full year. Barely. SPINSTER. There’s a word for ya.
Ok. But really. What does love have to do with life? We all want to receive love. We tend to be wary to give love. We desire acceptance, understanding, listening, connection. We are scared of rejection, judgement, manipulation, distance. For the math lovers in the room, we = me. Without putting words in any of your mouths, I am guessing some of you relate.
I want love to be my core tenant. The reason for life itself. Love, curiosity, growth. A challenging moment in a relationship fits all of these core elements – be curious about your partner, love yourself and that person, and regardless of where the relationship goes, one thing is certain, you are growing. Congratulations.
