Closure 2

My closure is progressing. I have passed the crisis point I reached last week. [I also needed to deal with my feelings because one of the gentlemen pursuing me returns from the west coast this month. He already asked me to go out with him when he gets back. He is a good prospect (not Mormon), if he loses the ponytail.]

I wrote a closure letter to xbf last week, it's mostly an apology. I worked on it in the middle of the night, but did not finish. Then I started mourning the loss of that relationship. I didn't complete that process the first time around because A)I was too emotionally unstable to deal with it last spring and B)I did not believe it was over, over. So. Now I know.

On Wednesday, things changed. I simply woke up feeling differently. I attribute that to prayer and divine intervention. The weight of my sorrow and distress was completely gone. I just knew, all of a sudden, that everything would be okay. I no longer have to worry about him, or us. I have nothing more I need to do. I do not need to talk to him or see him. I feel comforted, and know that I did not ruin my life by pushing him away, nor with any of the mistakes I made. That part of my heart feels peace.

Oddly, it's not a moving on type of feeling. It is a resolution, so I can get on with my life. I am not waiting for anything from him anymore. But it feels like whatever is supposed to be between us will be. Somehow, I feel undeniably that our story is not over. Whatever that means. Maybe in a few years we can be friends for real. That would be awesome. He is a beautiful person.

Part of me gets fidgety at the thought, that there will be more to come. Rationally, I know it's dangerous and unhealthy. Like I'm still holding on to something I shouldn't. And I hate the term 'supposed to' implying our lives are guided by an unavoidable destiny. I don't like the idea of destiny. I think it's a crutch and a way to avoid responsibility for one's life. However, not believing in destiny makes life a lot more scary.

Can you really believe in an omniscient benevolent God and not believe He guides our lives to some ultimate conclusion for our own good? That belief is built into the Western concept of God. It's almost necessary in order to reconcile oneself to the evil God allows in the world. Ah, but this is a complicated and millenia-old question.

The point is, I'm okay now. I no longer feel tortured by the way things ended, or the waiting. This is one of the gifts of faith.

Closure.

I've suffered through some anniversaries lately. It brought back the pain of losing my xbf all over again.  The one year anniversary of our first break-up, Valentine's Day when we had our first fake friendship non-date that ended with a lot of kissing and ultimately disaster.  Even the Egyptian revolution tortured me with memories. (There's a story  behind that.)  I never stopped hurting for him, but it has a new urgency.  My body aches for him again. And I've been crying.  All year I hoped he might change his mind and come back to me.  No one else ever loved me the way he did. Now I know that's never going to happen. 

What I need is closure. Our last breakup was such a mess, he just ran away and left me hanging. He gave me a line about needing space on the phone, but said it wasn't forever. I didn't know what that meant. I gave him a month. Then I couldn't take waiting and constantly checking for emails or phone calls.  I emailed him to find out what was going on. He did not reply. I tried several times over the next two weeks, asking him to tell me to leave him alone or give me a time line or breakup with me for good. Nothing. I finally got psycho with a nasty email, an apology, and one more begging him to tell me it was over. No reply. I finally threatened to go to his house to make him talk to me. To that, he replied. He told me he could have no contact with me and I especially could not go to his house. It was over. Hallelujah! That was a relief. And really, really, painful.

Still, I didn't believe him. He couldn't even say the words out loud. I didn't understand how someone could walk away from what we had.  Maybe he just needed more time. And I felt so horrible about how I behaved.  I hated what I had done.  I hated knowing he probably hated me.  For a year I've been regretting that and everything else I did wrong with him.  That, along with pining for him has been miserable. Now it's all making me angry on top of everything else. This has got to stop. 

My first attempt to deal with it was an email to his friend, the one who set us up.  I asked him to tell me my xbf was happy now.  If I knew he was happy with a girlfriend who gave him lots of sex, then I could move on.  I would be happy for him, and it would mean our break up was a good thing. --No reply. 

Like a lunatic, I began to think maybe it was time for me to make a move. Maybe he was as unhappy as I was.  I could ask him to come back to me. I fantasized about going to his house, imagining he would cry and kiss me and we would never part again. I got over that foolishness.  He doesn't want to be with me, the end.
But I did need to talk to him. I need his forgiveness. I want to know he is happier now. I want him to tell me he has no regrets.  Tell me that we're better off apart.

I sent an email.  It was short:Hi there. Are you amenable to a chat?

He replied: I don't know if that's a great idea. I hope you are doing well but I don't know what we would have to talk about. I'm sorry, I know this sounds harsh. 

It was a punch in the gut. I got livid.  Like being rejected yet again. He should have asked me what I had to say instead of arrogantly declaring we had nothing to talk about.  He could at least help me with closure. And how insulting that he tried to nice it up and water it down. Just say: No, I don't want to talk to you.  I could handle that.  But his condescension, I can not. I was thoroughly disgusted with him.

This could mean he is not over me and that's why he doesn't want to talk to me.  But maybe not.

I have been on a roller coaster all week.  First I was furious that he wouldn't talk to me.  Then I was okay. Then I got angry thinking that he might be alone and unhappy. That would make our breakup pointless and even more stupid.  Today I am very sad. I don't want to let go of him but I have to. It breaks my heart, again, and still.

My therapist is making me write a letter.  Say what I need to and be done with him.  She said it's the only way to get over it. I hope it works. I'm ready to move on.

It's Not You, It's Me . . . No. Maybe it was Really You

In response to my 'Someone please explain' sob story post, I got two insightful emails. I didn't want to be greedy and keep the wisdom all to myself. Both emailers gave me permission to post their thoughts. So I have included them here.  This is somewhat of a mish-mashed guest post. (With some edits to their words, I hope they don't mind.)

I.  A long-time reader and blog friend, Ethesis (Stephen Marsh) has since posted this on his own blog.   He discusses reasons why someone can be over the age 30 or even 40, single, and not necessarily a hopeless human being.

Bottom line: It is very, very possible for someone to never find a match without it being their fault and without anything being wrong with them.

Finding a match.

I knew a guy, I’ll call him Jammin (Jam for short). He was strong and tall, but not quick (so he could not play basketball or football – not quick enough, trouble with powerlifting, too tall). He wasn’t as good looking as he thought, and not as smart as he needed to be. He had a thing about really pretty girls. Of course the only really pretty girls that would date him were ones with problems that off-set their being pretty. He couldn’t figure out why he was always dating girls with serious problems, how come he always ran into the ones that turned out to be scary.

It was simple. He wasn’t good looking enough to be a good match or fit for that group and did not have off-setting qualities (dating sites show that you can exchange money, education and other things for good looks if you are a guy).

I knew another guy, I’ll call him Loser (Lou for short). Lou liked really pretty girls. He liked pretty girls who could think. He invariably picked them up on the rebound after a bad break-up, he wasn’t pushy. They would drift away as they recovered. Mostly they remained friends, and interestingly enough, formed a group of ex-girlfriends of Lou’s that enjoyed each other, just not him. Lou couldn’t understand why he couldn’t hold on to the kind of girls he was dating. Now he is old enough that he is kind of skeevy vis a vis the girls he would like to date and has burned some bridges as well.

His problem is pretty simple. He has little to offer (less now that he is older) other than a non-threatening supportive ear and friend-style dating. But no one in their right emotional mind sees him as dating material for romantic dates.

Both of these guys were not matching what they were to what they were chasing. Both of them had long histories of failed relationships. Jam succeeded by breaking free of his blinders. Lou is, well, there is a reason I called him Loser.

We probably all know a Lou and a Jam.  This is kind of a harsh introduction. I knew a guy who told the same story, more or less, except it was about a girl who chased football players and another who chased drummers.

Too many people think that the moral of the stories is that you have to “settle” for less than you “deserve” or “want.” That’s wrong. What you have to do is find who you match.

Some things make it easier. If you are a guy, go to New York City. There is a surplus of single women in New York City. If you are a woman, go places where there is a surplus of men.

Next, go places where people are looking for people like you. I had a friend, Martha Muriel who was gorgeous and a dancer. She went to a ward full of short professional men and tall models. The men all wanted a short model (which, of course, wasn’t going to happen, there is a minimum height for models after all). The women were all looking for tall professionals (which group, it turns out, is mostly already married). None of them were looking for Hispanics, more their loss. Martha left after a couple visits, she was much too smart to waste more time there.

There are things that look like problems, but that are not. They are matters of fit. 

It is similar for both men and women. In some areas there are too many men, in others there are too many women. This is true of physical locations as it is of areas of interest (you trying to become a doctor’s spouse or snag an unmarried professional athlete? There are a lot of people in those areas). Some areas have huge pools (so the chance of someone in your sub-pool goes up) some have very tiny pools (if there are only three guys and three women in an area, the chance of a close match has probably gone way down).

Finally, what do you use as a filter? What things do you use to exclude? Every “hard” barrier will limit you. For example, my wife is taller than I am. If I had insisted on someone shorter than I was, I would not have married her (and vice versa – luckily we fell in love before we realized the height issue).

All of these matters taken together means that it is very, very possible for someone to never find a match without it being their fault and without anything being wrong with them.

Possible issues:

1. Geography. Sometimes it is just bad luck where you live or where your education goals take you.

2. Relationships. Not all relationships succeed. However, each time you invest time and effort in a relationship it puts you a few more years down the road.

3. Looking for the wrong solutions in seeking a match. Mostly that is idiot guys looking for physical attractiveness in women, but there are other things that come up.

4. Filter issues – excluding on the wrong things. Which does not mean you should ever, ever give way when you are filtering for the right things.

5. Other gap creators (there are things that make a match more difficult. Age, personal interests, political tastes, etc.).

Note that the most common issues do not require anything to be wrong with someone. Being “squirrely beyond belief” and is not something that keeps people from being married (would that it were so – I know lots of people in that category, some who have been married multiple times).

Solutions:

First, know what real things you want and what the real deal killers are? Then, list why they are what you want and why they are deal killers. Then re-think a focus.

*******************************

II.  Another reader and friend, Notes from the Glass Ceiling, wrote the following. He has the benefit of knowing more details of my specific situations.

I believe that we pretty much are who we are. We can improve on what we are, but we cannot be who we are not. In other words, whether you are intense or not really doesn't matter. If you are not intense, you probably will not be. If  you are now, you probably will be.

And as far as intense goes, it is no sin. Artists and writers often are. If you find your intensity is hard on yourself, then that is a sign that you can improve it for yourself.

More importantly, I believe that people grow into love based on their personality. I think that people who are basically simple-minded do really well marrying young, because there is a good chance that they will meet someone just like themselves. However, for people who are very smart, very observant, very witty...this is a whole different game.  For someone such as this, it is harder for them to find a good match when they are in their 20s. They need someone who matches their personality and intellect. That can take time and luck.  I believe that you will find someone before long, but he may be 5-7 years older than you are, (or he may be your age or younger, but he will be very emotionally mature.)

As far as the sex thing, I disagree with the other bloggers who said that it does not play a part. It absolutely plays a part! People want to test drive a relationship before they marry. Anyone who says different is clueless or lying. You need more men to date who will appreciate your standards,and you are living in a very bad part of the country to do that.

Time to stop guessing. Men are not that complicated. We are sexually and emotionally driven, and we get scared when our ego is challenged. Then we grow up. Maybe.

This is not the time for you to give up on love. But maybe it is time that you look at other types of men that you did in the past.

*************************

Thank you both for this. 

Halloween on 68th and Lex

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. Especially in NYC, it's crazy fun. Last year's Halloween was epic. And, at an event on the 30th-- a showing of Nosferatu accompanied by the organ at St. John the Divine followed by a parade of ghouls-- I met my last ex-boyfriend. He happened to be a successful horror novelist, and the poetry of our meeting was not lost on either of us. After the event,  he went with me and two of my best friends to eat in the village. He asked me out at the end of the night, near 3 a.m.  The next night, the 31st, I went to the Halloween Parade with my two friends. We dressed up, looked fabulous and marched in the parade. We topped off the night with a midnight  meal of Thai food near Washington Square.  Our costumes were so good that a dozen or so people stopped us to take our picture. 

Back to this year. I needed to keep things low key because I haven't been feeling well. My friends came up from Philadelphia again on the 29th to attend the event at St. John's.  We had dinner at the 2nd Avenue Deli which is no longer on 2nd Avenue.  At the cathedral, they showed the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.  It's a  truly creepy and fun experience.  It was also good for me to get past the one year anniversary of meeting my ex-boyfriend.  There was the possibility of running into him, but it didn't happen.  It feels good to get past this milestone. 

Saturday, my friends went to DC for the John Stuart rally. I went to a costume party.  I had a fun.  Spent a lot of time flirting. Mostly with the guy dressed as a lesbian zombie Puerto Rican drag queen. I asked him for a lap dance and got one for free. An odd, but cute, geek boy followed me around most of the night. He dressed as the Cobra from G.I. Joe.  You gotta love horror movie fans.  The winners of the costume contest were the girl dressed as the Shark-topus, the drag queen, and a girl dressed as the heroine from Audition (a Japanese horror film). 

The real excitement came after the party. I wanted to leave about 1:30.  I walked outside and dug into my bag for my car keys.  They were not there.  I frantically dug and dug in the bottom of the bag. No keys. I must have locked them in my car! Crap!  This is not a rare thing for me. I keep an extra key in my purse for that reason. But I had switched purses for the party. And my AAA membership expired a month ago.  This left me with two options: Call a locksmith and pay about $100 that I didn't have. Or, go home on the bus, get my extra key at home and come back to the upper east side the next day to retrieve my car. I chose B.

I walked to my car, then realized that my apartment keys were also locked inside. This meant that if I went home, 'd be locked out of my building and my apartment. At this time of night,  I couldn't get the old lady landlord to let me in. option B was no good.  I stayed calm. I walked into a nearby parking garage and asked the attendant if he had a slimjim. Of course he said 'No', whether he had one or not. I saw a cop across the street and asked him if he had a slimjim. He was sympathetic and flirty.  That meant my zombie makeup wasn't as effective as I thought. He went to check his car.  He returned to say none of the police carried slimjims anymore.  He offered to let me use his phone.  But I didn't have anyone to call. 

At this point, I began to get upset and felt sorry for myself. I am 34 years old and still getting into stupid messes like this.  I was sick of it.  I should have had someone to call.  No roommates, no boyfriend, no family.  It was pathetic.  What kind of a life was  this?  I decided to walk back to the party.  I might as well wait there as wait inside the vestibule of my building.  And maybe someone would let me crash at their place. 

I returned to find 3 men at the doorway.  They cheered that I had come back. (aww). I told them what happened and they all went into action.  Inside they asked if anyone had a slimjim or could help me by breaking into my car.  Everyone was worried.  That's when I stopped feeling sorry for myself,  it was very touching.  I picked up a donut and sat at the bar as my rescuers worked the crowd.  A few minutes later, they told me the guy in the butcher costume had AAA and would let me use it.  YAY!!!  I called them and spent 45 minutes on hold, then they told me they'd send someone within an hour.  So I would had to wait by my car.

Off I went out into the cold again.  My car was parked on 68th and Lex.  There's the Hunter College subway station on that corner with a nice bench so I plopped myself down.  I spent most of that hour plotting my future.  I was not going to be alone like this anymore.  I was not going to keep getting into problems like this.  I was done being single and sorry.  From now on, I would have someone to call. 

The temperature was in the 50s and I had on a nightgown wrapped in a thin pashmina.  The night was clear and very crispy.  A lot of Halloween revelers passed by on their way in and out of the subway.  Mostly couples, of course. Most of the women were in slutty costumes with very high heels and very short skirts.  At about 10 minutes to 4,  two guys walked up the street. They gave each other a hug and said goodbye with some jeering.  One came ambling over to the station stairs but he stopped.  He turned to the bench and sat down on the other end from me.   I was on the phone to AAA asking why they hadn't come yet since it had been an hour.  The truck was on it's way.  The guy played with his iphone.

When I hung up, he said my shawl looked cozy.  I replied that it wasn't as warm as it looked. He continued to chat me up.  He was very charming.  We exchanged names.  He asked about my costume, and said it was poetic. (I was undead Ophelia post-drowning).  He asked why I was sitting there.  He said he was  contemplating his ride back to Brooklyn and enjoying the night air.  Then he said I had a very nice smile, it was so warm. He beamed at me. "You know, if we had known each other for a week already, and were sitting on this bench like this, I would kiss you.  This would be my moment, here, on this night."  I was surprised. Then he said, "But, we don't know each other, so it would be weird."  I said, "Yes, it would be weird.  But romantic."  he agreed.  "Very romantic."  

He was encouraged. I looked at him.  He was good-looking, light brown hair, blue eyes and a beautiful smile with good teeth.  He said, "Maybe some day we'll be able to kiss."  I smiled, realizing that  I might actually get a date out of this conversation.  Hussy that I am,  I encouraged him some more. "That would be nice."   We smiled at each other for a minute.  He slid over to me, closed his eyes and puckered up an inch from my mouth.  Why not?  I puckered up and leaned into him.  He had big, soft lips.  It was a sweet kiss  Then he slid away again.  I asked him if he wanted my number. Yes. He slid back over and we kissed some more.  We cuddled up against the cold. When he picked me up and put me on his lap I told him that he owed me dinner.  He said he'd cook for me. 

Then he asked if I really wanted to see him again. I said yes, we'd have dinner if he called me.  "If, if?  What, you don't trust me? "  "No, I don't know you." "You're right."  Then we kissed until the Tow truck came.  He held my hand.  I didn't let things get too crazy because I didn't know him and I had to keep an eye out for the truck. When it came, he didn't want me to leave.  But it was after 4 and I had waited for 2 hours.  He said he felt used.  I told him he'd get over it and he should call me.  We had a nice goodbye hug.  I went home elated.  It was a lovely end to a dramatic evening.  

The parallel with last year is odd, that I met a man at the same date and time as I did last year.  

Only in New York City would something like this happen.  Making out with a hot stranger on the street corner at 4 a.m.  It was exactly what I  needed.  I don't know if he'll call me, probably not.  Which is fine.  But it'd be nice if he did. Not an epic Halloween, I let my friends go to the parade without me on Sunday.  Most definitely a very nice and very New York Halloween.

The Impossible (more single complications)

"Look, all the light's gone out of your pretty face, just like it's gone out of George." *

My mind and heart are divided against themselves. Conflicting desires, the cold steely knife of reason, and the ache of longing and regret all swirl around inside me. I lost the best relationship and the best man I've ever had because I'm Mormon. That wasn't the only reason, but it was primary. Otherwise, we would have lasted much longer. He wouldn't have been so fatalistic about our future. And if there had been sex, he wouldn't have broken up with me when he did. The truth is, unless a man is looking for a wife, there's no reason for him to pursue a Mormon woman.

The other men I lost for that reason were no loss. They weren't worth my time. This one, was different. Very different. No one else ever treated me so well in all my life. He had everything I wanted in a man, and more, he is: passionate, witty, intellectual, smolderingly sexy, talented, affectionate, and geeky and dark in all the right ways. He was my bespectacled Smiths boy. We loved the same kinds of things, music, movies and our nerdy stuff. I liked his novels and stories, he liked talking about my work. Our oddness was perfectly suited for one another. Being with him was . . . there wasn't enough time in a day.

Also unlike the others, he liked all of me. I wasn't his trophy. He really loved me. He loved everything about me, everything except the Mormon thing. The Mormon and celibacy thing. Can that kind of difference be worked out? Others have done it. Many have not. I wanted to try. He thought it was impossible, "We're too different."
"Not really. We're completely compatible, except for religion."
"That's big."
Sigh . . . "I suppose."

So, he ended it and went away.

Reluctantly. Torn. Hurting.

As for me, "I won't be okay and I won't pretend I am." **

How am I supposed to deal with this? Everything inside me screams at me to give it up and go be with him. But I can't. I made promises to God. A God I cannot see nor touch. My commitment to those promises has to compete with the most visceral and real of human experiences, that of loving another, a person I can see and touch. Someone I miss so much it makes my body hurt. And as I miss him, I have to remember my promises, recommit to them even. I have to fight myself in order to keep my resolve against the other parts of me, the parts that hurt. This sends me through combinations of sadness, anger, longing, love, hurt, regret, denial, confusion, and grief. Those feelings are normal for a serious break-up, but the religion aspect adds layers of emotional complication. Because something good in my life got tangled up with something really bad. Because I loved that man, but I also love my God.

Sometimes, when I let my mind drift, I think about how much easier it would be to give in. Give up the fight and go back to him. Let him love me the way he wants to. But, I can't. I can't because I know what I know. I can't deny the life that I've had, a lifetime of being loved by my God. For as long as I can remember, He loved me, always, when no one else did. He was there and I knew it. I survived my childhood solely because of that relationship. Without it, I would have killed myself, really. That was the one thing that kept me from putting a blade through my veins. How can I ever turn my back on that? I will not. Not for anyone. Not for a man I love, and not for myself.

Regardless, I'm wise enough to know that renouncing my religion would not save the relationship. It would forever come between us. I'd always resent him for it and he'd always feel guilty. That alone is enough to destroy a relationship. And, no one should sacrifice themselves, who they are, for a relationship. That's what I would be doing. It would create an imbalanced and unhealthy partnership, doomed from the start.

Still, part of me yearns to give in anyway. The foolish and physical parts want my will to break. Luckily, I am stronger than that. (Luckily? Really?) So I keep clinging to my resolve. And I try to comfort myself. I remember to believe that this too shall pass, that my feelings will fade.  I'm just not sure how long it will take, or how to clear away the emotional sludge. I really hope it goes away. There is nothing I can do now but wait.

Logically, I know I could find someone else, somewhere there must be someone who will accept all of this, who will accept me. But, right now, I don't want someone else. I can't imagine anyone I would like more. It's him. He's the one I want to be with. He is so extraordinary and wonderful, and it took me 34 years to find him.  Yes, there will be more men. They've already come back and are crawling around. But, since I couldn't work these things out with him, I wonder if I ever will with anyone.  It feels impossible, like this kind of goodness will never happen again.

"There's only one thing impossible, that is to love and to part." 

*--Mr. Emerson, A Room With a View

**--Snow Patrol, "Just Say Yes" (Download)

**NOTE: To those concerned commentors, thank you. But I absolutely did not give up, I tried to fight for us. HE BROKE UP WITH ME. I wanted to keep going.

Single Complications

Married life is complicated. Granted. Not being married, I don't have to deal with raising children, complex budgets and schedules, living with other people and all the other tangible complications of having a family. But, not having to deal with those complexities does not make my life simple. Regarding tangibles, yes, it is simple. I only have to take care of myself. I have far fewer responsibilities. However, it's the things you don't see that make single lives complicated. I am not suggesting my life is harder than anyone else's, it isn't. But my life and those of other singles are as hard as everyone else's. Some married people seem to think otherwise. They're wrong.

For example, what seems a simple act, getting myself to church on Sunday is anything but simple. I don't have to drag kids out of bed or get them fed and dressed. But, the difficulty is psychological. Because I know it makes me feel bad to go to church. Sometimes I go home in tears because it's the loneliest place in the world. But, I also know it's good for me. In general, my life runs more smoothly when I attend. For whatever reason, it makes me better equipped to handle my problems. (It's also healthy for the physical brain to spend a few hours each week thinking of positive and spiritual things. It improves brain function) So, I know I need to go. I need to demonstrate my faith by making the effort to attend. In other words, if I don't go, I feel bad. And, if I do go, I feel bad.

In the long run, it's better to suck it up and go to church, it ultimately reduces my suffering. In the short term, it's very hard. There have been years of my life when I couldn't force myself to do it. For three years straight I set my alarm clock every Sunday but never made it. Sometimes I'd get so far as to dress, a few times I even drove half-way there only to turn around and go home. The whole production of getting myself to church is a battle between my ego and my superego. On a drowsy Sunday morning, after going out on Saturday night, my Superego is usually sleeping. Which means I shut the alarm off, roll over and join it.

Another psychological complication of being single is the simple act of seeking comfort after a bad day. How does a 30-something single cheer herself up? We all have our tricks: eat ice cream, watch bad tv, go shopping, escape on the computer. Those things work for a minute, as a distraction. In the end they are empty and the temporary comfort passes quickly. You can visit your friends or call them to talk, that works better. But, people are busy. And they get tired of hearing about it. They have more important things to do, like feed their kids.

As friends get married and multiply, you lose your backup support. They start to say things like, "Why can't you just get over it?" and, "You'll feel better if you get a life." They forget what it was like to be alone. Then it gets harder to make that call. So you learn it's easier, simpler, to indulge in your distractions instead: over-eat, take a bath, go to bed. Often, those things make you feel worse. But trying to do something to really make yourself feel better is too hard.

The worst part of being single is the complex horror show that is modern dating. Enough said. Oh, and worse than that, the relationship, made more complicated if inter-religious.

Try having a serious romantic relationship with a person who doesn't believe in your religious chastity laws. That's complicated. You have to explain. You have to convince him you're not crazy, just weird. You have to draw a line, a line that gets moved. Then you have to try to move the line backwards (good luck). You have to negotiate the non-negotiable. You have to police your activities and be the prude -- un-fun for everyone! Feelings and egos get bruised. Rejection. Resentment. Conflict. All of this results from the simple and natural act of showing affection.

As the relationship progresses and emotions deepen, it gets even more complicated. Eventually, kissing begins to suck. And not in a good way. This leads to an Id, Ego, and Superego war: This feels good, now it feels bad; I want to, I can't; I shouldn't, we shouldn't. Then, come the regrets: I hurt him.   It went too far.  How do I make him understand I'm not rejecting him?  That I do want him? How far is too far? Do I need to repent for that? I am 34, after all. This is humiliating, for both of us.

The hardest thing for me lately has been the loss of the best relationship I've ever had. Mostly, I lost him for the sake of my religion. What is that like emotionally?  Messy.  Awful. Embittering.  It's all swirling around inside my head and my heart . . . anger, confusion, grief, love, desire., faith.  What I want and don't want, and what I want to want and don't want to want.  I  want to love him.   I need a loving relationship.  He's a good man.  I want to give.  It's not so simple.  I made covenants with God not to. 

I am suffering for my faith.  Do marrieds have to do that?

MORE Single Complications

JL, blogging again. Stop the Madness!

I couldn't write for a long time. I got lost. Now I have a lot to say.
The past year has been unbelievably eventful. Here's the short version of the last 12 months of my life.

It started with the shock and insult received from the director of my graduate program, telling me to give up and go teach community college. In February, I had a crazy love affair with someone in Scotland. The passion blazed hot and short. We were done by April. Then came my spring madness, in the form of hours-long anxiety attacks. In May, I broke my wrist, had surgery on it and was laid up for 3 months. The anxiety attacks got worse throughout the summer, almost daily for 6 hours and incapacitatingly intense. It wasted me. By August, my doc finally found something to help, an epilepsy drug. It made the attacks go away, but also made me stupid. I couldn't put a sentence together for weeks. That wore off by September, just in time to teach. I could function. I could live again. I picked up my life and ran.

It was all good. I started dating, dates every week. I joined some clubs to meet new people. Most of the men weren't Mormon, and very geeky (I have a thing for them). That's when the blog went offline. No doubt they'd google 'mormon dating' and they'd find it. I also got to work. I hired a coach to help me finish my Incompletes. It didn't work, but he did get me back to yoga and learning the cello, that made a huge difference in my well-being. Life was great! I hadn't felt so good in 6 years! Hadn't been so productive nor had such an active social life. Then the eve before Halloween, I met someone. Quite someone. And life got a little bit fabulous.

Until February. It started unraveling, along with my mental health. The curse of the bi-polar. It started with the $300 a month pay cut for the semester. Ouch! No more coach. I can't afford to go out. The spring madness is full on. So I couldn't handle the fake-relationship with my Someone. Two days ago, he absolutely ended things between us forever, again. I'm devastated. Meanwhile, Capital One Bank is suing me. I missed the deadline to answer so now I automatically lose. And it gets even better....

I've been praying for months for a way out of this hole. (I've said it before, and it is worth repeating, be very careful what you pray for...) Yesterday, I got fired. Well, they aren't re-appointing me for the fall which amounts to the same thing. They sent me a letter. I was in the car with my visiting teaching companion when I opened it, I thought it was something insignificant. Complete shock! I had no idea this was coming. I've been there since 2003. I started blubbering in the car. But I had to dry my tears and go visit. 

When I got home, I opened a letter from the courts. That couldn't be good news. It wasn't. It was a tenancy summons. I was ordered to vacate my apartment. Eviction??!!!!! Are you kidding me??? I couldn't even cry. I just started shaking. That's not a message to move on, it's a literal kick on the rear out onto the streets. Thankfully, it was a msitake. No eviction. Still. A sign is a sign. Fired and evicted on the same day is a flashing grotesque neon sign a la Times Square.

Yet, this is a beginning. I am on the verge of a massive life change. I've felt it for awhile. After my 34th birthday, I mandated it. I took a look at my life. I've accomplished nothing in the last 4 years, they may as well never have happened. And, I am no better off than I was 8 years ago when I moved to NYC. How did I let so much time pass so wastefully? It really horrified me. I had a total 'how-can-I-be-this-age-with-this-kind-of-life?' birthday crisis. Wasn't I just 30 years old? Now it's 2010. !!!!! I have to do something. Now.

Escape Plan A: Go to the UK. Write my dissertation and get a D.Phil in 2 years. [You can't do that in the US, they make you start over. It would take 5 more years.]

Plan B: I don't know, but I'm planning. I need to physically get out of this place. Go elsewhere. Serve. Do something to make other people's lives better, rather than living to satisfy my own selfish desires. But how, and where? There's always a way.

It really never stops, my life. But I'm stronger now, I can handle this. I can eat this for breakfast.