So, I Was Seeing Someone...
He was pretty fantastic. And that's not me putting him on a pedestal, really. I know I have the tendency of doing so (see: Hims 1 through 3), but I was actually pretty aware of my feelings and actions when it came to him.
I say he was fantastic because he was inquisitive, and kind, and understanding, and honest, and considerate, and measured. He was great. Really great. The kind of great that reminds you of what you want in life; the kind of great that makes you impatient and impulsive and (dare I say) ready. He was the kind of guy I've written about in the past.
I say "was" because, well, I think things have officially run their course. And while part of me is super sad that this is over before anything really happened, another part of me knew it was inevitable; the same sad ending to the same serial episodic tv series of my life. Heroine meets boy; they flirt; they date; it ends; end scene. And I hate that I didn't want it to end--if this was inevitable, why am I feeling so restless, hopeless, and frustrated? Why is a part of me unwilling to let him go when every rational part of me is saying it's for the best? Usually when I reason with myself, I come to an understanding and let things go. (Usually, though not always--just see Hims 1 through 3.)
Thing is, he made me feel comfortable and smart and funny and understood and energized and desired. And I'm not imagining this; the way men make me feel usually dictates how I feel about them. There are times when men make me feel reticent and nauseated and frustrated and misunderstood and tired and anxious. Those times I know they're not the right fit for me; it's why Hims 1 through 3 were so important to me. Those motherfuckers knew how to make this girl swoon. They fed her compliments and stroked her ego like some pampered cat.
I remember taking an online quiz with Tamara years ago. The end result was that both she and I need a partner who makes us feel intelligent; after going to therapy, I know that's the most important thing I need from a romantic partner. If a guy doesn't make me feel intelligent, as in he mansplains things to me or fails to understand my point of view, my romantic interest in him evaporates. At times it's made it difficult for me to like men who already like me. And that's probably why I cling to those men who make me feel intelligent and precious and wanted and safe and who actively engage my mind. Intellectual foreplay is where it's at for me. And it happens so rarely that it's hard for me to trust that if I let go of this one, another one is sure to come along.
I cling.
I cling.
I cling.
It's how I operate.
I cling because there is no one to hold me in return. Like a koala, I wrap my arms around those men; perching my claws around their bark, clinging, lest I fall. And I can't wait for the day when I realize that I won't have to cling because he's not going anywhere. You know? Like, I won't need to cling because he's already holding on to me, too. And maybe that's why this particularly wonderful, albeit short, not-quite-a-relationship ran its course: He wasn't ready to grab on, too. I, in turn, just have to learn to let go. Because I need to move on. I mean, if I found someone who made me feel the way he did, I'm sure to find another person that makes me feel that way again. Right?
I say he was fantastic because he was inquisitive, and kind, and understanding, and honest, and considerate, and measured. He was great. Really great. The kind of great that reminds you of what you want in life; the kind of great that makes you impatient and impulsive and (dare I say) ready. He was the kind of guy I've written about in the past.
I say "was" because, well, I think things have officially run their course. And while part of me is super sad that this is over before anything really happened, another part of me knew it was inevitable; the same sad ending to the same serial episodic tv series of my life. Heroine meets boy; they flirt; they date; it ends; end scene. And I hate that I didn't want it to end--if this was inevitable, why am I feeling so restless, hopeless, and frustrated? Why is a part of me unwilling to let him go when every rational part of me is saying it's for the best? Usually when I reason with myself, I come to an understanding and let things go. (Usually, though not always--just see Hims 1 through 3.)
Thing is, he made me feel comfortable and smart and funny and understood and energized and desired. And I'm not imagining this; the way men make me feel usually dictates how I feel about them. There are times when men make me feel reticent and nauseated and frustrated and misunderstood and tired and anxious. Those times I know they're not the right fit for me; it's why Hims 1 through 3 were so important to me. Those motherfuckers knew how to make this girl swoon. They fed her compliments and stroked her ego like some pampered cat.
I remember taking an online quiz with Tamara years ago. The end result was that both she and I need a partner who makes us feel intelligent; after going to therapy, I know that's the most important thing I need from a romantic partner. If a guy doesn't make me feel intelligent, as in he mansplains things to me or fails to understand my point of view, my romantic interest in him evaporates. At times it's made it difficult for me to like men who already like me. And that's probably why I cling to those men who make me feel intelligent and precious and wanted and safe and who actively engage my mind. Intellectual foreplay is where it's at for me. And it happens so rarely that it's hard for me to trust that if I let go of this one, another one is sure to come along.
I cling.
I cling.
I cling.
It's how I operate.
I cling because there is no one to hold me in return. Like a koala, I wrap my arms around those men; perching my claws around their bark, clinging, lest I fall. And I can't wait for the day when I realize that I won't have to cling because he's not going anywhere. You know? Like, I won't need to cling because he's already holding on to me, too. And maybe that's why this particularly wonderful, albeit short, not-quite-a-relationship ran its course: He wasn't ready to grab on, too. I, in turn, just have to learn to let go. Because I need to move on. I mean, if I found someone who made me feel the way he did, I'm sure to find another person that makes me feel that way again. Right?
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