Communication is everything

A friend and I were messaging last week after she accidentally outed herself on Facebook as having been in a relationship for about a year. I should probably say "accidentally outed" in quotes. While she mentioned the guy in a post, the relationship wasn't the focus; it was part of a bigger story. Just like it was in real life - not her focus, and not really a secret, just a part of her story that hadn't come up before.

Anyway, she told me a few details about the guy and their dating style that make their relationship a little less than conventional. It's a style many would consider unacceptable; some might even consider it unhealthy (I'm not one of those people; just wanted to offer some context without sharing a story that's not mine to share).

She said for her, it's been the healthiest relationship she's ever had. No co-dependence, she gets alone time (which is important to her), and they don't take each other, or the relationship, for granted.

"We TALK," she said. "That is huge."

It got me thinking about my own relationship, and how it probably appears to others - lack of commitment, going nowhere, unhealthy.

We don't live together because we're not married. Toyfriend is too traditional. But we'll probably never be married because... well, that's a separate post. So it's likely we'll never share a roof.

We often spend holidays separate because combining families is complicated. He doesn't attend every function

with me because he always has a choice and sometimes the choice is one of his kids, or a friend, or just a night to himself. 

But we also talk - and that is everything. I know how he feels and how committed he really is to me and our relationship. We are not always together, we don't share a mailbox, and he doesn't do everything I want - and that's OK. Those things, while nice, are not proof of commitment or love - and I am lucky to be in a relationship where I don't have to rely on those things to feel secure.

All of us spend spend so much time and energy searching for this missing something in relationships. We think it needs to be marriage or family or living together or whatever. We convince ourselves that if we just take that one little (or big) step, we'll feel secure and sure of where things are, and where they are going. 

But that security, or those steps, are not what's missing. What's missing is communication. Once you find that, you realize it's the thing you've been searching for; that other stuff was just a substitute.

It's the one thing you really need.

Communication is everything. It's what's missing in most relationships, and when you find it, you realize that's what you really needed all along. 

Oridinary fairy tale

As a little girl, I truly bought into the whole fairytale idea that I would meet my knight in shining armor and he would rescue me from the castle and we'd live happily ever after.


As a teenager, I thought all boys had cooties and I was little miss independent.


As a young woman in her twenties, I believed finding love would make me happy and confident and content. To be fair, this was after meeting a guy who convinced me I was only worth what he said... so finding a guy who thought I was worth a lot really did make me feel happy and confident and content. But only temporarily.


As a divorced woman in her thirties, I (secretly) believed (and feared) that maybe we only get one chance at real love and I had blown my shot. But I pressed on because I was also starting to believe that God wouldn't have put the desire in my heart if I wasn't meant to find love.


As a woman in her forties who has (I believe) found the guy, I have learned a few more things to believe.


Perfect is a myth. If you have a long list of requirements, you will never meet that guy. Which, is probably by design - what better way to avoid the responsibility or possibility of heartache than by convincing yourself no one is good enough?


Compromise is not the same as settling. Settling means you give up something that you really want

to make the other person happy, but you continue to want whatever you gave up. Compromise means you're happier for giving something up because you find that making the other person happy is suddenly more important than what you thought you wanted. 


Communication is key. It may be easier to avoid that tough conversation, or not talk about what's bothering you - but that won't fix the problem. Sharing is part of a relationship. Everyone is happy when they're sharing the good stuff. When you find someone with whom you can share the bad stuff - that's when it's a relationship.


You don't have to agree on everything. I always thought agreeing on social or political issues was a deal-breaker. Turns out, it's not. Being respectful and open-minded, and being able to talk and laugh - those are the deal-breakers. If you have to agree on everything in order to avoid an argument, maybe it isn't working as well as you think.


I still have a lot to learn. I've even returned to counseling. I know that my baggage created a lot of walls and barriers for me, which I used to keep myself out of relationships, out of fear of being hurt. I decided it was more important to push through that fear rather than letting it rule me anymore. That is not always easy - but I believe it will be worth the work.


Turns out fairy tales are much more ordinary than I expected - and much happier than I imagined.

What I need to remember

I've been battling some insecurities this week. I'm feeling pretty inadequate, and I have found myself looking for problems. Honestly, I think it has more to do with work stuff, and I'm letting it spill over into my relationship. I have found myself looking to be unhappy, or for reasons to be disappointed or annoyed with Toyfriend.

It wasn't hard to find: He spent most of his Saturday with other friends (both women) - one hiking, one out for her birthday.

I was bummed. We usually spend Saturdays together. I felt a little left out, and honestly a little inadequate that his one friend can handle a hike like they did, and I can't. But I also know that staying connected to his friends is important to Toyfriend, and it was out of his control that the chance to spend time with these friends fell on the same day.

I also realized something else. Part of the reason Toyfriend wanted to get together with the one lady is he really wants to be a good friend. He wants to be there, particularly for those who he knows don't have anyone else.

The truth is, I like that about Toyfriend. I like that he cares about other people and is willing to put himself out. I also like that he knows himself well enough to know that he doesn't want to turn his back on his friends. If I stand in the way or try to change that, I risk changing something about him that made me fall in love with him in the first place. Which seems counterproductive to the whole happy, healthy relationship thing.

But I was so convinced I should be insulted, I found myself feeling frustrated. Was something wrong with me, that I wasn't upset? Am I just accepting too much because I want to keep him around?

Then I noticed that he felt as bad - if not worse - about missing out on our time together. It meant a lot to him that I understand why he wants to be a good friend, that these women are just friends, and that I was able to talk with him about things that were bothering me. He was happy that I spent what time I could with him over the weekend. He made an effort to spend as much time as he could with me, too.

It was then that I remembered some of the things I've written about Toyfriend that I need to keep in mind.

"I'm also really very lucky to be in this with someone who takes the time to understand where I am coming from, and who will meet me halfway."

Toyfriend is a good guy. He's honest, trustworthy, and he loves me (he's also handsome, nice, smart, funny, and super-fun, but that's a different post). He happens to have female friends because he relates well to women. But he recognizes it can be an issue, and he's open and honest with me, which helps put me at ease and reminds me that I don't need to worry.

That's what I need to remember most.

For those wondering, he does have male friends and does spend time with them. I write about the female friends because I'm talking about my own anxiety and insecurity, and the female friends affect that more.

The just friends line

Can men and women be friends? Harry Burns says no. He says eventually, one (or both) of them will become attracted to the other, and sex will ruin the friendship.

I believe something a little different. I think men and women can be friends... if the sex issue has been resolved. How so? Either they've already been there, done that, and know it won't work - or they mutually friend-zoned each other from the very beginning.

There's a fine line that separates a truly platonic friendship from a budding relationship. That line is different for everyone, and it changes depending on the friends' own relationship status. For example, as a single woman I might have invited a guy friend to be my platonic date at a wedding - but only if he was also single. The way I see it, even if I know that we are just friends, it is disrespectful to the woman in his life to invite him on what seems like a date - whether it is or not.

I suppose I feel strongly about this because of what I went through at the end of my marriage. An emotional affair contributed to our problems, and I would never want to risk doing the same to someone else.

If I'm with a guy, I'm also overly sensitive about women who want to be his friend. I think there's a difference between a woman who genuinely wants to nurture a platonic friendship, and a woman who has more in mind. I think it's pretty easy to tell one from the other - especially for me. This is one time when I would never ignore my gut - it knows best.

Sorting through this baggage has been tough, since Toyfriend is a guy who has mostly female friends. Of course I trust him, but it is tough to explain that I still do not trust some women. It's also tough to explain how something that seems like a trust issue isn't all about trust. Sometimes it's about feeling left out, or insecure.

One thing I have learned since my divorce, and through several failed relationship attempts, is that it's important to communicate those feelings clearly and fairly, without blame or accusations or jumping to conclusions.

The truth is, being open and honest seems to eliminate (or at least mitigate) most problems that come up in a relationship. I have found that, with the right guy, I am better able to navigate this issue.

Toyfriend is a wonderful, honest, trustworthy guy who is a good friend - and his friends happen to be women. In 99% of those cases, there's no issue, and I just need to work through my own feelings of insecurity or inadequacy. In the other 1%, I share my feelings and trust Toyfriend to make my feelings a priority.

I know some people think I'm crazy. Maybe I am. I suppose I "put up" with stuff that many wouldn't. It isn't easy; I struggle with insecurity and worry, and of course I'm scared someone will come along he likes better. But at the end of the day, I remember that can happen any time, any place. If it's meant to work out, it will. If he's meant to meet someone else, he will - no matter what I do.

Surprisingly, there is a ton of comfort in realizing I have absolutely no control. In realizing that, if I'm with the right person, that fine line almost doesn't need to exist.

Everyone has baggage

I hate to talk about my own baggage... I prefer you all think I'm wonderful and perfect. But who are we kidding? I also hate to share anything that might make Toyfriend seem like anything other than the kind, wonderful, thoughtful man that he is. So please keep that in mind.

It turns out relationships require more work of me than I expected. I didn't think I would have such a tough time with insecurities and baggage. I know I am strong, and I like to think can handle a lot. For someone I love, I can handle just about anything. I never expected to find baggage that put me to the test.

I also had no idea that my own baggage was so freaking heavy. I don't have the sort of personal baggage that most people think of when they hear the term (kids, ex, finances, work). But I have a crap-ton of emotional baggage. Some I thought I'd checked, and some I wasn't even aware I'd ever picked up.

I know I have a fear of loss, and of being left. A counselor would say I have "abandonment issues" because my mother left me as a kid. Like, literally she was there one day and gone the next.

Since I was a little kid I have worried that anyone who was not right in my line of sight might be gone in a second. Irrational? Yes, but there it is. I am aware it's an issue, and while I can't totally shake the feeling, I am able to talk myself away from the edge, which is not something I could always do. Let's hear it for therapy!

I also have a big thing about anyone (obviously in this case, a boyfriend) making concessions for me. I know that relationships are about compromise, and I know that compromise is a two-way street. I am aware that I should give some things, and I should be able to ask for (and expect) some things in return.

But I've been called a "problem" and "needy" and "selfish" and told that I "ruined a life" when I've asked others. Now - those guys were being jerks; I know this. I know they were just laying blame to avoid taking responsibility for the way they were treating me. I took the blame and guilt because, well, that's what I knew.

I know better now. I have learned that is neither fair nor healthy. But I also know that just because their tactic was wrong, that doesn't mean their feeling wasn't valid. I probably was being unfair or needy or over-sensitive sometimes.

Now, even though I know I can ask, I still struggle to know if what I am asking is reasonable, or if I am being a little unfair. I find myself doubting whether my feelings should be hurt, or if I really am being over-sensitive.

I also find myself wondering if the doubts in my head are legitimate, or if I'm just dragging my past baggage into a current relationship. Of course I want to look out for myself... but I also don't want to blame Toyfriend for something someone else did to me.

I suppose life would be easier if I'd stuck to my guns and avoided falling for a guy who I knew had baggage. If I had just continued to shut Toyfriend out, and kept looking for a guy with zero complications. None of this would be an issue.

But then I think, how can I really know that for sure? My insecurities are obviously still there. Maybe it would have just taken longer to see them with another person. It might be something else that would bring them up - but they'd still rear their ugly head.

The truth is, I was never going to find that baggage-free guy. So maybe I'm lucky to have found someone who is willing to share his baggage with me, so I'm not left wondering. So I always know where he's coming from, and where I stand.

I'm also really very lucky to be in this with someone who takes the time to understand where I am coming from, and who will meet me halfway.

Baggage is much easier to carry when you work together.

Not quite cool chick

Relationships have a tendency to make me really insecure. I have been working on my insecurities for years (literally). I know I’ve improved, but I also know I have a long way to go. For a while, I thought I had totally overcome my worries and fears, but I have come to find that what I really did was eliminate true relationships from my life. Without the investment I had nothing to lose, and without anything to lose, I had no worries.

Toyfriend comes with a little baggage. It mostly holds the sort of complications you would expect of a guy in his fifties who was married for a long time, has kids, and is now single. But some of the complications have proved to affect our relationship. Let’s just say Toyfriend has some things going on that prevent me him from including me in every part of his life (at least for right now).

By itself, that isn’t a big deal, and certainly not a deal-breaker. I don’t mind solo time. I am used to attending family and social functions alone, and I can continue to do so as often as I need (or want). But it is something that matters more than I expected. It turns out that since I can include Toyfriend in every part of my life (if we choose), it bothers me a little that he can’t do the same. I feel a little left out, and I find I feel a little vulnerable, that something more important will come along and I will lose him.

I’d love to be able to say that nothing bothers me. That I’m the “cool chick” - OK with not hearing from someone for a few days, always wants her own space, and totally OK with a host of female friends, family or work obligations, etc. But the truth is… that’s not me. That was only someone I could pretend to be when I avoided actually caring about another person.

Of course, I’m also not “uncool-crazy-will-yell-at-you chick” who needs everything her way. I guess I’m “not-quite-cool-but-still-willing-to-compromise chick” who tries to understand the real issue so it can be resolved, and is willing to admit things are not all about her. I am that chick who needs communication and consistency and clarity, even if it’s just for my own peace of mind. I am that chick who likes to know she’s loved and needs to feel some security. As long as I have all that, I can become the cool chick, who can manage just about anything.

This is not the first time I have felt this way in a relationship. It is the first time that I was able to identify the problem, process how I was feeling, and discuss it with the other person openly and honestly (and rationally – that’s key). It is the first time – ever – that I have felt my worries and insecurities were something I could share with my partner, and that he would face them with me. For the first time, I feel like I’m in a relationship with someone, rather than holding everything  together all on my own.

I know strong, independent, confident women are not supposed to admit when they are wrong, or scared, or need something. I can tell you from personal experience that it took a lot more courage to admit to Toyfriend when I am scared or worried, than it ever did to just avoid my insecurities altogether.

I am much closer to being the cool chick.

Pleasant surprise

I expected I would be bad at some aspects of being in a relationship. It's been roughly forever since I even attempted to be in a relationship, so I was bound to be a little rusty.

I also figured I would be good at some relationship stuff. Some things come naturally, and others must be a little like bike riding, no?

I was right on both counts. But... it turns out, I'm not good at everything I thought I'd be - nor am I bad at everything I expected.

Imagine my surprise when I found myself taking someone else's clothes out of my dryer, folding them, and putting them in a drawer? Let's not even discuss how I cleaned out that space for these clothes that are not mine.

I thought that my cynical, closed-off side would keep me from opening up... but I have found myself happily making room in my life, in more than one way. I've even cooked. In my kitchen.

Meanwhile, I thought I'd be OK with things like alone time and female friends. (sigh) It turns out that some of my insecurities have reared their ugly head, and I am not quite as OK with that stuff as I expected.

What I am getting good at is discussing my concerns and even my insecurities. It also turns out I can have those conversations without arguing, which was a pleasant surprise.

I suppose that to be a good relationship, it needs balance. A little give, a little take. I have historically given way more than I've taken, and I still find myself struggling to make sure I am compromising without settling.

Mostly, I have found myself very happy - and I have found that I'm better at being happy than I expected. That was a pleasant surprise.

A complement

A while back, I met a guy on meetup.com. I thought this was funny because... 1) I always hated that Turtle met friends at meetups and 2) I've always wondered how it would work with someone I met somewhere other than a dating site. (For those not familiar, meetup.com is not a dating site. It's a site designed for users who want to set up activities for groups of people. It's really for people who are looking for others with similar interests to share activities. As a result, many users happen to be single.)

Anyway, this guy messaged me and we started chatting. He eventually asked me out. We've formed a good friendship, but not much more. He has said he'd be interested in dating, but I have been clear from the start that wasn't in the cards.

We have gotten into the habit of chatting about his dating life. He tells me the tales, I offer occasional advice, he ignores me because obviously, being single, I know nothing.

The other day we got on the topic of a guy I have been seeing. My friend (we'll call him Hiker) asked why I am willing to date this other guy, and not him. Not an easy question to answer.

I started by explaining that it worries me that he and I wouldn't share his favorite hobby (hiking, obvs) and that I know he's looking for someone who will join him. That is a relatively minor thing, which he pointed out. But it's part of a larger issue, which I then had to explain. (Leading off with the hobby angle was a rookie mistake; I'm rusty.)

He and I are in very different places. His marriage is newly ended and he's looking for casual companionship to keep him busy. He's still learning his dating style, and he's still accepting women who are not his type, or who don't treat him well, simply because he wants the company.

I'm pretty sure I fall into the "you'll do for now" category, and I told him as much. I explained that I think we could have a great time, but once he gains some confidence, he will realize I'm not for him. Experience has taught me that will happen right about the time that I fall head-over-heels - and I will be left heartbroken. Again.

He said he'd never want to hurt me. "Hiker," I said, "No one ever wants to hurt me. That doesn't make it hurt any less when they do."

I don't begrudge anyone going through the post-marriage phase of looking for a distraction, or looking for some fun. Everyone needs a little time to figure themselves out - who they are now, what they want, and what works for them. I've had the "opportunity" to be that distraction for more than one man. My heart got hurt each time - but I learned a lot, and wouldn't change a thing.

I never saw it coming before. Now I do - which means I've learned even more than I realized.

I have learned

As angry as I am about Turtle, I am grateful for the lessons he taught me.

I learned about letting go of control. I realized that I spend a lot of energy trying to force things, usually as a way to make myself feel more secure. I also learned that security, especially in relationships, is an illusion. Relationships, by definition, involve other people - which we can't ever control.

I learned about patience. Not everything is about me. Some people will need you to slow down. Not everyone you meet will be in the same place, or ready for the same things. Some are worth the wait.

I learned that not everything is about me, and sometimes I need to be there for others.

I also learned that sometimes, it is about me. Sometimes it's OK to look out for myself. Sometimes, it's OK to expect others to wait for me - or catch up, as the case may be.

I learned I do not want to feel like a chore, or an obligation. I do not want to be treated like a problem that needs handling.

I don't want to be a second choice, or a backup plan. I don't want time with me to be spent at someone else's convenience. It's great to be considerate and understanding of others - but sometimes I should come first.

I want someone who wants me around. Who genuinely enjoys my company (quirks and all). Who will go out of his way to not just talk about having fun, but to actually put those plans in motion.

I am tired of being treated like a secret; like a guilty-pleasure TV show you watch when nothing else is on, but are ashamed to admit you've seen every episode.

I've learned I am tired of feeling left out of all the real fun, and kept as a backup plan when nothing better is available.

I have learned that it doesn't matter why a person might treat me that way. He could very well have the best reasons in the world (and yes some are better than others). What matters is how it makes me feel.

I have learned that I can be patient and let go of control, and still look out for myself and my feelings. My wants and needs are just as important as the other person's.

I have learned I am no longer willing to feel like second best - and I have learned it's OK to say so.

Lesson in lies

I thought I was finally getting past the feeling stupid phase of being rejected. Then last week, I learned that Turtle has a girlfriend. It's a woman he's known all along, but insisted there was nothing between them.

Adding insult to injury, when Turtle and I were still spending time together, I could see that he and this woman seemed close. I even asked him specifically about her just a few months ago. He told me there was nothing.

I'm absolutely sure he was being honest way back, when he said he wasn't ready to date. But I've also come to realize that was never the whole truth.

I feel a little lied to, and led on. What's worse, though, is feeling foolish. I convinced myself that he wasn't leading me on, or keeping me around as an option. Really he was, but I was either too blind to see, or too stupid to put it to a stop.

Every time I think about it, I get angry. It's like I go through the whole thing all over again. (Which, makes the whole maintaining a friendship thing tough, but more on that later.)

I'm all about accepting responsibility,  and finding the lessons in even the toughest of situations. I'm also learning to not take blame when something isn't my fault.
It is tough to realize Turtle just didn't like me, and it's hard to feel like he led me on, and it sucks feeling lied to. But it's also important to remember that he wasn't the only one lying to me. I lied to myself - and at least that's something I can prevent going forward.

That tenth time

Way back when, when I was a young, old married lady, I pretty much thought nothing was my fault.

 

Well, actually, that's not true. I secretly thought everything was my fault, but I pretended to think otherwise.

 

Having learned the hard way that strategy can only work temporarily (if at all), when I started dating again, I over-corrected. I took all the blame. If I didn't like something, I figured it was me being over-sensitive, or jumping to conclusions. I never wanted to challenge anything my date did or said, because I didn't trust myself to know for sure if it was his issue or mine.

 

I'd also learned, from bad relationships, that sticking up for myself or speaking my mind was equal to complaining or starting a fight. I didn't want to be "that girl" anymore, so I stopped saying anything.

 

Over the last few years, I have come to learn that there are ways to tell a person how I feel without making it into an argument. I have also come to realize that a big part of effective communication has to do with the other person. Some people honestly just want a fight. Some want to blame others for everything. Some just take every little observation as criticism, and react defensively, which often leads to an argument.

 

So, I'm learning. In the last 6+ months, since meeting Turtle, I have also learned that timing is important. I have learned that sometimes it's better to wait, even if I'm certain that what I have to say is of the utmost importance. Waiting not only gives me a chance to mull it over a bit, it also gives me an opportunity to have to conversation in an effective way (eg., in person versus over text message).

 

But I still find that I don't always know when I should say something. Granted, my situation is a little different. Turtle is not my boyfriend, so the expectations are slightly different. But even without an "official" title, we still have a relationship. If something is bothering me, I should be able to talk about it, the same way I would if I had an issue with a friend.

 

I find myself wondering if something bothers me because it really bothers me, or if it's maybe me being upset because things are not as I would like them. Nine out of ten times, if I take a little time and remind myself that things have not changed, think about the good stuff between us, and try and remember that hope and patience are my focus - it works itself out.

 

It's that tenth time that occasionally haunts me. But I suppose this is one of those things about myself that I am working on.

 

Honesty is my policy

I have been told that I am too accomodating in relationships. I'm too available, too nice, too understanding. I give a lot, without expecting much in return.

The other day, though, I was told that while I am accomodating, I do expect something: Unabridged honesty. While I am understanding, I do have trouble grasping that this might be difficult for some.

I suppose some people think honesty means I want them to be open about the things I want to hear - but keep the other stuff to themselves. Some people have trouble saying anything to anyone that might be hurtful. They definitely don't want to say anything to me that will hurt my feelings, because in all likelihood, I have been nothing but nice (and accomodating, understanding...blah, blah, blah) towards them.

Which, if you think about it - kinda stinks. It's almost like I give kindess and in return, all I get are lies. It could easily make me want to start being less honest, less likely to trust, and quicker to leave.

But I really don't think that's the best way to look at things.

That same friend pointed out to me that I tend to surround myself with people who will give me honesty - even when it makes them uncomfortable, and even when they know my feelings might get hurt. I know a lot of people, and obviously not all of them are 100% honest with me all of the time. But those with whom I am closest, the ones who really know me, will always tell me the truth. They know I want to hear what they honestly think about me or my situation, so that I can make good decisions, and improvements where needed. They tell me what I need to know - not what I want to hear.

I do not want to get discouraged from asking for, or expecting, honesty. I also don't want to stop being understanding, or start assuming everyone is lying. I don't want to change who I am or settle for a man who is less than what I want.

I will continue to be accomodating. I will continue to be available and nice. I will continue to be honest - even though it means putting myself out there. I may try to be even more understanding, and realize that not everyone is capable of the sort of honesty I want.

That honesty exists - my friends are proof. So I will keep looking for that honesty in any sort of partner. After all, if I need that from my friends, it only makes sense it should be on my list.

(Un)Setting expectations

To say Turtle has waivered in what he wants would be an understatement of epic proportions. We've gone from hanging out as friends to casual dating to ernest discussions about what we want back to casually dating to....whatever the hell it is we're doing at the moment.

We are still talking, but we haven't spent any time together in a while. My understanding is that he's not up for time with anyone, other than casual friends. We both agree there is something more than friendship between us - which is not something he can deal with right now. I already knew that, and told him it was fine, that we could put a pin in that discussion until he was ready.

I've been completely honest and upfront with Turtle. I was totally sincere when I said I'd like to go back to just hanging out and seeing where things went. I enjoy spending time with him, and while I would like a relationship someday with someone, and he has potential, I do not see us in a relationship now. I am kind of over the serious relationship discussions, and ready to get back to having fun, getting to know each other, and seeing where things end up.

Turtle does not seem convinced that I really feel that way, or that we can really make that transition. He seems worried that I say it's fine, and then when we're together, he'll feel pressure to say or do certain things. (Personally, I think a lot of that pressure is in his own head; he admitted that's probably at least partly true.)

That said - I have been thinking a lot about how I've behaved since we first discussed "where we were going."

When things first started getting a little weird with Turtle, I was talking to Engineer about what I could, and could not, handle in terms of a relationship. Engineer suggested that Turtle seemed like he needed a lot of time and space, and that if I was willing to give that to him, it might make sense to do so. "I'm talking about spending time together, as friends, without expectations," he said.

I wanted to let go of any expectations. But I also wanted to understand where I stood. I wanted to know - is he saying he just sees me as a friend? Or is he saying he has other feelings and just can't do anything about them right now? To me, those are different. That difference would affect how, or even if, I stayed in Turtle's life.

In my effort to understand, I think I may have unintentionally put some pressure on the situation. I intended to let go of my expectations, but to be honest and fair - I'm not entirely sure I ever did.

Somewhere in all of this, I have learned that I am not very good at letting go of expectations. I may not be in a hurry to get anywhere, but I do want to know where I am headed. That alone is an expectation - and probably one that he wasn't ready to manage.

So where does that leave me? Well, since Turtle and I haven't spent any time together, one could hardly say we're "dating." I suppose we're friends - but just barely. I am not sure if we'll ever get past this point, or what could happen if we did.

But I suppose that's the point, right? I need to learn how to let go of expectations, keep moving forward, and just see what happens.

I may be incapable of just doing things the easy way.

The truth is...

Confession: Sometimes, when I'm confused, I reread my own blog posts to try and make sense of how I'm feeling.

 

Turtle and I have been going back and forth...in and out...over and under this conversation about where things are going.

 

The truth is, he doesn't know. He was able to tell me honestly how he feels, where I stand, and what he can offer.

 

The truth is - that was what I needed all along. I didn't need some declaration of commitment, or a label, or even for things to go anywhere. I just needed to know where I was. Now that I do, I am OK staying in this place, at least for now.

 

Hopefully, we'll move on from this point as a couple. Maybe. Down the road. But maybe not. The truth is, I am OK with that, too. Trust me, I'm as surprised as you.

 

So, this was the confusion that led me to stalking my own blog posts...

 

A couple months back, I wrote a post called "How do you spell love?" At the time, Turtle and I had been on only a few dates. I had no idea where it might go, and had no plans that the guy would be in my life for another week, let alone another couple of months. The post was really all about me, and had nothing to do with him.

.....I want something that makes sense. Something that can start off slow, but has the potential to grow into something lasting. Something that feels good. Something that just works....

The truth is, I'm not looking for a specific person, or a particular relationship. I want to feel special and beautiful, and empowered. I want to be content in what I have, and excited to find out what's next. I want to be passionate, and easy-going at the same time. I want to be completely uninterested in meeting anyone else - and  I want him to feel the same....

Reading that, I guess it is a little vague. Which, I suppose could make it tough to find. But the truth is, I threw out my "type" and my "rules" years ago. I promised myself that if I met someone, I'd give him a chance - until there was a reason not to.

So I guess what I'm looking for is just tough to describe. I'm not worried,  though - I'll know it when I feel it.

The truth is.... I knew all along.

 

My heart knows

So the "what are we" conversation happened. It wasn't totally planned, though I gave it a lot of thought beforehand. Mostly, it just happened.

It went fine, though a little unexpected. We sort of agreed to hold off and continue the conversation at a to-be-determined time - but also, agreed to keep communication open. He wanted a little time to think, which seemed fair.

Or, so my brain tells me.

My brain knows that there's no need to rush. In fact, it doesn't do any good anyway, because stuff is going to happen when it's going to happen and not a minute sooner (or later).

My brain also knows that if this doesn't go my way, it just wasn't meant to be, and that's OK. It opens up the door to something even more wonderful.

My brain even knows that I am very lucky to have met a great guy. No matter what, I learned the advantages of taking a little time to get to know a person. I learned a better way to value myself. I had the chance to put my feelings on the line again - and was reminded the world won't end when I do.

My brain is super smart. My heart? Not so much.

My heart has wondered a couple of times why I can't just have what I want, when I want, and how I want. My heart wonders why things can't just be simple. My heart wonders why it feels like it's being punished, when it did nothing wrong.

Rejection sucks. No matter how rational or well-adjusted you are, it stings to lose something, even if all you're really losing is the hope for something more. Doubt sucks, too - even when you know you'll have an answer soon, the wondering can mess with you, just a little.

My brain tells me I'm weak, for even thinking any of that. I disagree; I think it proves I'm strong. Strong enough to put myself out there. Strong enough to say what I want, and will accept, while still allowing someone to get close enough to know what I'm feeling. That takes some courage - courage I was never sure I had until now.

My brain may be super-smart - but my heart is strong as hell.

How to ask

While I do kind of enjoy the "getting to know each other" thing, it occurs to me that I may, sooner or later, need to ask what is up with Turtle and me. It's probably unrealistic to expect some sort of Hollywood-type romantic revelation, complete with a scenic backdrop and theme music. My life needs better writers.

Theme music aside, I absolutely dread "what are we" conversations. I think they cause problems on so many levels.

First, it forces everything. Once I tell what I'm thinking, I'm practically committing myself to a relationship I'm not even sure I want. If I'm going to bring it up, I have to be prepared to put my money where my mouth is. Meanwhile, he's forced to rush to a conclusion he hasn't come to yet. This could go one of two ways; the point being decisions made under duress don't always turn out well.

Second, I don't care how good a communicator you are, how carefully your words are chosen, or how nice a person you try to be. There's really no way to raise this question without sounding like you're giving an ultimatum. That's really no way to start an honest, healthy relationship.

Then of course, there's the obvious problem. I'm not too "cool, aloof single gal" to admit I like Turtle. If I don't ask, the possibility of something more remains. Once I ask, I may find out that possibility is gone. This is the real bummer no one ever wants to admit.

Once I get past that insecurity, I know I'll need to do something.

I do not want to mess up a nice friendship by making Turtle feel as though he's been backed into a corner. I do not want to let my severe lack of patience ruin what could possibly be a good thing. I do not want to unwittingly paint myself into a corner by coming across like I want something serious right now.

I also do not want to spend my time wondering what is happening between us. I do not want to over-think every text or Facebook post. I do not want to waste precious energy worrying about something that I don't control.

All I really want is a little context. We met on a dating site. Presumably, that means at one point, there was the potential we would date. I am really just curious if that potential still exists, or if he's made a friend-zone assignment already. If he has, I'd be disappointed, but at least I could deal with that set back, and move on.

So, here's my question: How do I ask for that context, without backing myself into a corner, sounding like I'm giving an ultimatum, or making things so incredibly awkward that friendship is impossible?

Questions and answers

I need to learn to take my own advice, and not poke around on a potential's* online profiles. Whether it's his dating profile, or his facebook page (we recently became Facebook friends - his doing), online stuff is too open to interpretation.

Stalking profiles doesn't do anything but lead to confusion and mis-trust, and hinder communication. Jumping to conclusions doesn't help anyone. If I have a legit question, I should be able to just ask. If I can't ask... well, that's a separate problem altogether.

Of course, the temptation to look always exists. Whether it's insecurity or curiosity (let's be honest - it's probably a bit of both), I can't deny that I just want to know.

But the truth is, I won't find any answers online - only more questions.

*Thanks to my cousin, this guy's name will be Turtle - because he's moving soooo sloooww.

What's next

"I often rush because I get the feeling a guy isn't worth the effort, so I push through it, basically to get it over with."

I typed this in a text to Baking Suit the other day. We were talking about my weekend date, and how he takes his time getting to know new people (and how that's not usually my style).

As soon as I hit send, I realized two things:

- That's a pretty profound realization

- I probably needed to think about it some more

I do tend to rush things, which is strange because the idea of rushing into a relationship scares the crap right out of me. I guess my impatience and desire to know what's next sometimes outweigh my fear to commit.

I always want to know what's next. So much so that I spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to predict what will happen. I plan outfits for dates that haven't been discussed; I formulate answers to questions that haven't been asked. I understand that everything needs to happen in its own time, and I can't force anything, anyway. I don't even mind waiting - I just want to know what's going to happen.

But I don't just spend the first few conversations strategizing future plans. I also pay attention. I listen and observe. I take in everything - how a guy speaks, how he acts, how he treats me, how he treats others. I'm constantly trying to learn, not only based on what he says to me, but also based on what he doesn't say.
Long before we ever even arrive at the conversation, I have figured out if I see any point in continuing. If I don't, then I am really just looking for a way to put myself (and him) out of misery. That's when I think I may rush things a bit. I give up on getting to know him or letting things develop.

I think that's probably different than many women. Most are probably rushing so they can get to their happily-ever-after - they want to lock it in, before he changes his mind.

Not me - I'm happy to wait forever for that happy ending. I just don't want to wait around with the wrong guy.

The only thing I'm rushing to is whatever's next.

This was different

We've talked about this guy before. He came back (again) a little over a month ago. Actually, I may have been the one to reach out to him this time. I don't remember now.

Anyway, we ended up getting together on a Saturday. We were actually having a really nice, open, honest conversation (a first). He said something strange to me that night.

"I don't know why you're always running away from me."

It got me thinking - does he perceive our relationship differently than I do? Does he honestly believe I am the one who walks away? Or was this just a line, another way of blaming me?

A week later, we had a rough start when he was out on a Friday. We got talking on the phone, and I was a little upset that he was out with someone else, when he never goes anywhere with me. (OK - I may have also jumped to the conclusion the someone was a woman. Sue me.)

The conversation ended poorly, but he called me the next day to apologize. Then invited me to lunch.

OK, I thought. Perhaps this time really is different. He's admitting he cares for me, he's opening up to me a little more, our conversations are more honest. I let myself start to believe things were going to be different this time.

A few text messages that week...and then nothing. I tried to reach him Friday, then Sunday. I jokingly (well, half joking) asked, "Is this your way of running away from me?" No response.

This has been his way from the start. Jump in, and then abandon the relationship at whatever point he chooses. We might be in the middle of a text conversation, or talking on the phone, or even together. One minute, we're in the middle of something, and the next he's just gone.

Right about now, you're probably wondering why on Earth I'm sharing. I mean, this guy clearly has a pattern of leaving, and I clearly have a pattern of giving him the opportunity. None of this is new, so why share now?

This time was different - because I believed him. I let my guard down, and let him in. So it really threw me when he cut and run.

I guess I wanted to point out that no matter how above it all you think you are, or how jaded or in control - we can all fall hard. I was having a tough time, really getting down on myself. I felt hurt, but also foolish. Shouldn't I know better? Or am I just getting what I deserve, since I let him in?

But that's not really how it works.

When someone treats you poorly, it says way more about him than it does about you. No one should feel silly or foolish for putting herself out there. You fall....and then pick yourself up.

Of course, that doesn't mean you might not do something foolish. And by you, I obviously mean me....

Nice to meet you

I'm polite roughly 95% of the time. Even when someone hurts my feelings, I do my best not to hurt his. If I even say anything, I do it as nicely snd calmly and, well, politely as possible.

The other 5% is what happens when I'm caught in a bad place (usually just after having been hurt). I don't go looking for a target - but I'm less careful about being nice if one presents himself.

So this guy emailed me tonight on OK Cupid. In his "hello" message he said, "What do you know? I was just saying I needed to find myself a short, sarcastic brunette. What are the odds?"

It's worth pointing out that statement is a reference to the last section of my profile, proving this guy actually read my whole profile before emailing me. So, while a quick glance at his profile showed we have differing dating agendas, I figured I should at least acknowledge his effort.

He thought I was being presumptuous - which, I supoose is fair. He pointed out we never really know what someone is really looking for. I admitted he had a fair point, but in his next message he asked, since I know so much, what did I think he was looking for.

I repeated the first line of his profile back to him. Admittedly, I added plenty of sarcasm - but this whole thing did start with him saying he was looking for a sarcastic brunette.

So actually, I was being pretty polite.