Trusting Myself

Ending a relationship is difficult, and I wish I had listened to my gut and doubts sooner. Guy is a wonderful man, but in the end, he just wasn’t right for me. He helped me heal my most broken places and gave me the gift of being genuinely loved for being myself. I learned a lot about what I am and am not looking for, and learned the dangers of sharing too much history too soon. It put our relationship, I think, into a bit of a rebound category; while he cared so sweetly for me when my self-confidence was low, as I came into myself that care began to feel suffocating.

Healing, for me, sometimes means risking the pain of difficult things. When someone coddles me, or walks on eggshells to avoid distressing me, they take away my opportunities to heal and grow as a person.

So.

New plan. To avoid dealing with getting to know someone as I date, I am only going to date someone who I get to know as a friend first.

So.

Life has a sense of humor.

A long-time friend of five or six years asked me out on a date, and once I got over the surprise (and clarified that he did actually intend this as a date) I accepted. He’s someone I have always found attractive and fun, but as he was a few years younger than me and we had always been involved with other people, nothing ever went anywhere but friendship. He knows some of my past, is one of the people who kept an eye on my ex for me, and has been a good friend without knowing all the details.

Saturday is our second date, and already I know there is something special about this sudden chemistry between us. I’m not sure if this is a relationship that is destined for a season or more, but I know I am going to enjoy the experience and allow myself to have a little fun. As one of my best friends said, maybe this will just be an opportunity to deepen an already good friendship.

My gut? Feels good about this one.

Advertisements

Anxiety Ungeneralized

My heart is pounding. Palms are tingling. My eyes only capable of fleeting connections as I fit my hand carefully around a water glass and sip. Condensation mingles with the salt of nervous palms.

The ice clinks, but even the cool liquid doesn’t dampen the heat of excitement, that sweat of anxious embarrassment. I make a confession of nerves, offering up my Mona Lisa smile as I try to still the subtle shaking of my fingers.

Conversation stops and starts, and awkward words begin to fill the emptiness, or perhaps not so awkward, as his startling observation and grin surprise a laugh from me. Understanding and patience are balanced in his gaze, though uncertainty lurks there as well. We test the waters, one word at a time. One glance. One flash of a curious smile.

Risk feels like a knife blade to the throat, my body filling with all the uncertainties of a harrowing past.

Another sip of ice water.

“So, when did this become a possibility? You asking me out?” There, a subject broached in genuine curiosity. The answer will explain how we find ourselves, carefully dancing out our insecurities as the waitress interrupts at just the right moments to relieve tensions. Fill empty glasses. Take orders.

“Ten minutes before I asked.” He replies, then grins. “What seemed, at the time, a crazy idea fueled by sleeplessness. Though I’ve always liked you.” Our exchanged smiles are shy, for all our thirty something years of life each, this dance between friendship and romance is still new for us both. “So… when did this become a possibility? You saying ‘yes’?”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on dating before having a friendship first. So when you asked…” My water glass becomes impossibly interesting, and bears the weight of my sheepish smile. “Just so happens, I’ve always liked you a bit too.”