Flight From Fancy?

Last week I was asked out on a date. I very politely, but veerrry firmly declined. I did. I don’t know my exact reasons per say, but I did know that I didn’t want to waste a few hours making inane and pointless conversation with this boy. For me, a good first date would include honesty and alcohol. And it was quite apparent that I wasn’t going to get either here. Ok so maybe I could’ve winged the alcohol. But even that didn’t really tempt me. And when that happens, you know you’ve got problems!

I’ve been meaning to get into my reasons for staying single. I just keep putting off making any commitments. I’m getting worried. I’m just too used to being alone now. I like taking over the entire bed. As soon as I find someone I like, I approach the intersection of insecurity and anxious. I’m happy in my own private world, with my small life and circle of friends. I’ve been so afraid of being cornered, for so long, that I’ve forced myself into it. I wasn’t always like this. I was always more of a “wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve” kinda girl.

Ok so that gamble didn’t quite work out the way I’d planned it. The thing is I don’t quite remember actually planning to be married. It just happened. Like most of my life so far. And when it got to breaking point, I ran! Okay, running, just so you know, was invented to escape bad situations.

Now I’m still running. Running my life, in such a safe, meticulous way, having learned from everything, playing it safe. And the problem is, I’ve left a bit of me behind. The passionate bit, the bit that’s messy and full of heart, the one who doesn’t run. I miss the me that dives in, without reservation. There’s nothing like passion and feeling alive. Sometimes it’s reckless; other times it’s just selfish. But it’s always fun! It’s what keeps me from ever really enjoying “safe.”

When my ex-husband and me decided to part ways, I think one of the last things I said to him was, ”At least we had fun while it lasted!” I hope he understood what I meant. That there will be tragedies, people will leave or die or simply cease to be your friends, but the memories of the good times is what we need to treasure. And by playing it “safe” I’m losing out on memory-making time. I know this and it brothers me.

Except that I can’t help myself! It’s just too much torture to go through the whole process of getting intimate with somebody, when all you can think is “how long is this going to last?” or “ is this really worth it?”. I’ve always prided myself on being an all out optimist but lately I’ve begun to seriously doubt it. I’m getting cynical. I see a happy couple and I look for signs that they’re not quite as happy as they look. And most of the times I’m right.

But I guess in the end it’s all about finding the ever-exclusive mean, that perfect balance. I feel so stupid about not having seen the signs earlier on in my relationship that I now get into analyzing most situations with a microscope. I’m still in the fight but the rules just got really hard and not quite as flexible. And there’s that whole quarantine period that just makes most men throw in the towel. Hell, it’s a miracle that I even get asked out!

But for the now I’m pretty happy. I’ve been blessed with a bunch of really great friends (the kind that make me smile just to think about them), my most adorable mother (..I must have done something really worthy to deserve someone that special!), work that I love to do and a life that actually never gets even close to boring. That’s a lot even by the most extreme sensibilities!

Eventually I’ll need to get out there again. I’ll need to find my soul mate. And hopefully when that happens I hope I stick around long enough to realize it.