So I met a great guy. He’s smart, funny, a good listener, and (equally as important) a good question-asker. He’s also a little younger than me, which concerns me for a few reasons, but I’m choosing to overlook that for the moment.
Our first date rocked. We went for drinks and tapas and got pretty happy; we had great sexual chemistry and even better conversation; he very generously paid; I kissed him first as we walked down the street afterwards; and then he pushed me up against a wall.
Perfect.
The only problem was, our second date was sort of … well, it wasn’t without a hitch.
We were supposed to meet at 10pm, which he asked to push to 10:15pm (which was fine), then to 10:45 (which was pushing it, but I sort of agreed to), and finally to 11:15pm.
No. That was too much, and I spent longer than I’d like to admit crafting a text to gently let him know what he was missing out on, without letting on to how annoyed I was. I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I believe it was something along the lines of, “Too bad, I wore a leopard thong. Rain check.”
Need I say more?
Need I say more?
So he screwed up.
But then he did a number of things to rectify the situation. First, he tried hard to get to see me anyway:
“Argh, and I’m just leaving. Leopard, huh?” “Are you sure? I’ll come to you – where are you?” and, “Just a quick drink.” (I said no to all of these).
Then he suddenly made himself available the following day, when he hadn’t been before.
Finally, he texted promptly the next morning. This was a wise move. It let me know he was still thinking about me.
The problem was, by this point I already felt a little hurt, and it didn’t help that it was that time of the month and I hadn’t been sleeping well. Everything is compounded by those two things. I’ve also come to realize that when people are very, very late or when they push off appointments, I feel sort of dropped, ignored, and less than important. I feel vulnerable.
Ahh, vulnerability, that great and all-powerful beast that rules relationships. If you can’t make yourself vulnerable, you will rarely connect. If you make yourself too vulnerable, you get hurt. If you pretend to never be vulnerable or hide your vulnerability behind a veneer of anger or spite, you will have a lot of conflict and usually end up sabotaging the very relationships you are trying (in your own convoluted way) to sustain. And if you can’t feel both vulnerable and safe with someone at the same time, the relationship will never work.
I know it’s part of my path in this lifetime to learn forgiveness, but I also think there is something fragile about a new relationship – whatever that is, whether it’s just someone you’re “just” going to be sleeping together or whether it’s more real than that. I don’t know where it’s going to go with this guy. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I do know that I’m struggling to maintain my excitement about seeing him again while contending with the upsetting realization that I can’t totally control my emotions.
I suppose that what I’m really afraid of is that when I do see him again, I won’t be all bright and shiny and happy – and when is the appropriate moment with someone new to show them that side of you? At what point does it become ‘ok’ to show the other side of you, the sad or disappointed one, the one that is more human than hinting at wearing animal print panties and not caring whether someone postpones you for something else?
I am strong, capable, and resourceful. I am intelligent, creative, and understanding. I am resilient, I am flexible, and I am powerful. I am also very sensitive, a little bossy, impatient, and quick to cry. Perhaps the most meaningful thing my ex ever said to me was, “I love your raw emotions. They’re what make you who you are.”
It has been a hot minute since I’ve been with someone for real. There’s a part of me that’s, frankly, terrified of being in a ‘real’ relationship again, with everything that entails, and there’s a part of me that craves being in a relationship where I know the other person wants to know all parts of me, not just some. I don’t want have to worry about whether getting vulnerable with him is a mistake, whether he will know how to handle it, or whether he won’t know what to say and will get resentful or angry that I’m ‘blaming’ him for something when that’s not the case.
Real vulnerability takes great courage. Maybe it’s time for me to get brave, and trust that there are others who can do the same. Who knows? Maybe there are even those who aren’t just capable of going there, but want to.
