I met Mike three weeks ago. He was sweet, caring, funny, handsome and energetic. He reminded me of the boys I grew up with in St. Louis. He was the cool guy in high school with long blonde hair, who every girl wanted to date. He drove the black Trans Am with the gold eagle emblazoned on the hood, as "Rock and Roll All Nite" blared from the speakers. He was cozy with a hometown aesthetic. I laughed a lot with Mike, and when he wrapped his muscular arms around me, I relaxed into him, content to stay there forever.
I liked Mike. Thinking about him made my stressful life feel a little less stressful. My heart beat faster each time his name appeared on my cell phone. I was happy, and for the first time in a couple of years, I was willing to open my heart again. I started to feel a little less alone in the world.
My friends and business associates are accustomed to seeing me arrive solo for parties and events. So, the rare times when I actually bring a date, the poor guy is typically, mercilessly scrutinized. I have often fantasized about dating the 'perfect man' and not always being the third, fifth, seventh or ninth wheel at a dinner party. I imagine guests making comments like, "Oh, good thing Carolyn waited so long. Look at the wonderful man she met at this time in her life. They seem really happy. What a great couple." I imagined what they would say about Mike, if we dated long enough for me to introduce him into my circle of friends. I was hoping, praying that no red flags would rear their ugly heads in the meantime.
I have only known Mike for a few weeks, but, in between lengthy and intimate phone conversations, Mike has flaked on me a number of times. Some days I receive numerous texts and phone calls and other days he completely disappears, forgetting plans we made. He always apologizes and chalks it up to one particular drama he has in his life and has disclosed to me. I was unsure what to do, so I asked Ivo for a male perspective (realizing the fact that actually asking Ivo what all this meant was a big red flag in itself). "He's got you on the hook," Ivo said, "and he's leaving you dangle in the air." He was right. I exposed myself. Mike knew I was interested in him but he wasn't taking me off the hook, or throwing me back in the water. The 'skip in my step' was now a pit in my stomach. I was somewhere between heaven and hell. Was he blowing me off or was he just indecisive?
You would think by now that I would have some kind of radar for love. But everyone has their own language and some native tongues are harder to learn than others. I reflected on Mike's behavior over the past three weeks, what he told me about himself, about his past relationships and what I had surmised about him. He's introspective. I think Mike processes everything inside and has a hard time letting people into his life. His gregarious, charismatic personality is a cover for the tender, fragile heart that lies beneath. His sweet, but protected soul is hard to reach and get to know. I suspect he lives his life by going with the flow and letting things happen, rather than taking initiative. We are all works in progress, but I suspect Mike is more of a project. Whether my thoughts are right or wrong, when a man wants to see you, he will go to great lengths to make it happen, and I certainly wasn't hearing from Mike. Regardless, thinking of him still brings a smile to my face.
Writing this blog has really forced me to dig deep inside myself and discover what kind of relationship I really want. I dream of finding a partner with whom I can build a strong friendship and have the trust and love to jump into the abyss together and explore each other openly and honestly-- and discover all the deep, complex layers that make us unique human beings. A healthy emotional and intimate life is what I seek in a partner... and to finally know what it's like to have a loving partner and that we will always be there for each other.
So I have flung myself back into the dating pool and I will keep swimming upstream until another man casts a line in my direction and I take the bait. And, as daunting as dating can be, I will continue swimming until I will have no reason to continue writing this blog. I live for the day that I can write the words, "I met someone. Signing off..."
Cookie! I had no idea you were 44!!! When you wrote "middle-aged woman," I was like, "Since when is 28 middle-aged?!" I'm completely serious. Good luck to you finding a good man! Can't wait for the next post!
ReplyDeleteCookie, darhling, you are too fantabulous for the "C" students as my buddy Donna calls them. We need to find you an "A" student who can appreciate that hair and that YOU!
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