Awkward...! (aka, size does NOT matter.)

I met one of my most recent guy friends on Craigslist, of all places. He placed an ad a while back asking to meet someone NOT for romance but instead to share like anguish from a breakup. We arranged a tenuous meeting at Starbucks, learned that neither of us is a serial killer and we now talk regularly. We joke around about the state of our hearts and the awkwardness of dating. Last night in art class:

me: So, yeah, we've never met and he's always texting me "Good morning, beautiful!" I mean, the first time was flattering but now I'm getting overwhelmed. Here look. Look at these long texts. "You're worth the wait." Huh? What wait? What worth? He doesn't even know me.

him: You've never met?

me: No. We were going to -- I found him online before I deleted my profile. He's one of the ones that I thought okay, as long as we agree that this will JUST be friends, I'll go through with the date. But then I got sick and busy and so the meetup never happened.

him: Huh. Yeah, I understand. There's this one woman who keeps telling me about her body. I don't know why she's always talking about it.

me: What does she say?

him: Like, she kept telling me her pants size size. Six or seven, whatever that means.

me: I guess she wants you to know she is thin and attractive.

him: Whatever. It's a total turnoff. And then she started to talk about more details that I don't need to know.

me: Like what?

him: Like "I am very large up top. VERY large. Like, it's very noticeable." She goes on and on about this in emails.

me: [giggling] You're kidding! I don't think I've mentioned a single physical attribute to any of the guys I corresponded with. I mean, they saw pictures, that's enough.

him: Yeah, it's completely repulsive. I only want one person, my ex, and this other stuff is just stressing me out. I know it's supposed to be good for me and all but man, I hate it.

me: Yeah, me too.

This morning I got a text from him (my friend) poking fun at our situations:

So uh, yeah. In case you didn't already know this, size doesn't matter. It's a mix of chemistry and sensitivity and timing!

The heart has its reasons

Image from Sarah Heinrichs (click to visit her photostream)

This past weekend, I was struck by this snippet in the This American Life show Frenemies about a scorpion who pleaded with a turtle to fetch him from the shore to cross the water (this segment is about 40 minutes in) . The turtle was hesitant; "won't you just sting me?" he asked, and the scorpion answered, "Well, if I did that, I'd kill us both!" The turtle thinks for a moment and decided this made enough sense to risk trusting the scorpion.

He fetches him and no sooner is the scorpion on board that he drives his stinger into the turtle.

They both sink into the water, drowning. The turtle cried out in distress, "why did you do that!!" The scorpion, equally confused by his suicidal actions, replied, "I don't know, it's just what I do!"

It was the after paragraph that  stirred me the most though:

What can we learn from their watery end?
Is there some lesson on how to be friends?
I think what it means is,
central to living a life that is good,
is a life that's forgiving.

We're creatures of contact
regardless of whether we kiss or we wound,
still, we must come together.

Though I may spell destruction
we still ask for more
since it beats staying dry
but so lonely on shore.

So we make ourselves open
while knowing full well
it's essentially saying
please... come pierce my shell.

Everytime we open ourselves to caring about someone, we also open ourselves up to hurt.

The past few weeks have been hard for me. I have met some wonderful guys recently who seem to appreciate me but I'm just not there. And I can't force it. I'm not ready for my shell to be pierced by anyone new in my life. (*Established loves or crushes greater than a year may be exempt.)

The heart has its reasons which reason knows not. 
~ Blaise Pasqual 

Chelsea talks about this on her blog (snippets included here):

I've managed to rack up more than one perfectly dateable, solid, great guy who thinks he can change my mind. And you know what, selfishly, I'll let him try... I'll let him try because I don't think I'm a total lost cause. I'll let him try because I believe in romance and love and connection and that whole "soulmate" thing. I'll let him (them) try because I believe amazing magical things can happen... I'll let him try because he knows that he's "trying..." 

I'm a girl who doesn't have the ability to make the distinction between someone "right" and someone right now. I'm a hurt person running the risk of hurting other people...

You let him make you laugh, then you let him say, "I'll go to war for your heart..." and you revel in that, because the one that was "right" didn't say that. And probably never will. SO, you let people adore you, because as much as you don't think you're worth adoring....

See her full entry (goddamn does she rock) -->

Still, I have an enormous sense of peace having come to this acceptance. I'm enjoying my drawing class. I come home from work sometimes and throw everything down and grab my sketchpad like a drowning woman, ignoring hunger and thirst and discomfort just for the chance to scribble. And I allow myself to drink from these strange, new, foreign waters within until something shifts inside and I'm no longer submerged. Life is good.

I have more to write but will have to save that for another time. I'm still getting lots of texts, calls & emails from the few new guys I've met since starting this blog despite the "I just want to be friends" honesty. Sometimes I am flattered and sometimes I am uncomfortable. I'm still sorting much out.

Alas, Edwin the Unbearable was not meant to be.

So, Friday I got a lipoma removed, which is basically a ball of fat. Which, I guess, is basically what I am, except this thing didn't also have a central nervous system.

Yet.

I decided not to name it though I toyed with the idea of calling it Edwin the Unbearable.

The procedure was not as relaxing as I hoped. I now understand what it feels like to have a scalpel scrape across the abdominals. It is not something that would be enjoyable repeating. I also learned something else that was useful: the epinephrine anesthetic, while enthusiastic at inhibiting blood flow (a plus during any surgical procedure), does not really work on muscle fibers. I heard the staff discuss this after they peeled me off the ceiling. Three times. "We didn't realize it was going to be this deep," they explained. Note: next time, request the stuff that actually works on ALL tissue.

So today, the area was particularly tender. The doc checked and determined that I was just doing a bit much but was otherwise okay. They wanted to see me again in a month and sent me up front to make an appointment with the receptionist. This kind of thing happens all the time at doctor's offices, right? People make appointments and stuff?

Here's the ensuing convo that occurred:

me: I'd like to make a followup appointment next month for a wound check (thinking if I am using the EXACT SAME lingo the doctor told me, they should know).

receptionist: For what?

me: A wound check.

receptionist: Why?

me: To... check... the... wound?

receptionist: What for?

me: They said they want to check it in a month.

receptionist: Why?

me: To see how it's healing.

receptionist: For what?

me: To check it! (wanting to scream THIS CANNOT BE THE FIRST TIME YOU EVER HEARD THIS!!)

We finally started speaking the same language, I made an appointment and bolted.

Now I am exceptionally tired and cranky and going to bed in 3...2...1...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!

It's not you, it's me. See, I'm changing into another species.

I'm not exactly sure what's happening to me this month except that I seem to need great swaths of space around me. I thought it would be healing to try dating but in reality, it was wearying. Still, I think I needed to exhaust myself in order to emerge from some kind of inner swamp.

me, aka: swamp thing

I'm not really sure where to go from here, but that's okay, I don't need to know anymore. I don't really know what the face of healing looks like but I suspect this may be it.

The most painful thing about this process is that I seem to be hurting others by withdrawing. It's unintentional, but I'm doing a lot of "it's not you, it's me," explaining these days.

Did you ever see the Star Trek episode where the hot doctor lady falls in love? The end is steeped in heartbreak.

"It's not you, it's me," her lover says, his voice cracking with emotion. "See... I'm changing into another species...."

I dropped to the floor and howled right then. I still fall over laughing just thinking about it. Best line ever! I mean, if you didn't want to see me anymore, just tell me! You don't have to go changing your species and all.

But seriously, maybe this IS what's happening.

I know what it's like to be on the other end, thinking, "If I were more ____ [insert adjective], then it'd work!" but my frailties are not a barometer of external worthiness. If I could will the heart around, life would be so much easier. But alas, it is far simpler to mutate into another being.

trust.

Pardon the vampire reference but I just came back from seeing the movie Let Me In.

I think the appeal of dating casually without romance (the reason for this blog) was that I didn't have to let anyone in. Didn't have to risk getting hurt. I've been burned and I'm now shy. In this way, I now pass on the curse carried by my previous beau. Those who've been bitten by the dual-fanged vampires of love and abuse carry the burden of inner confinement forward. But without risk, I'll never discover the opportunity for joy again.

I'm scared.

This past year has seen many endings. I don't take loss well, I think. Part of me feels it's respectful to pay reverence to those things of great import with repose, quietly meditating their myriad meanings. They've led me to where I am today and I am grateful for the lessons learned, even if painful. Knowledge is expensive but oh so worthy. A moment of silence, please.

However, I realize I can't stay in place forever, and so tomorrow I will quietly tiptoe into the future.

“We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy.” ~Walter Anderson