A little growth

One of the things Toyfriend I share is Christianity and church. To be fair - he is a lot more grounded and traditional in his faith. I'm sort of... not a typical Christian. But, it is important to me and I am very grateful to be able to share it with him. We differ in some of our beliefs, but overall it's an important part of our relationship and I don't think we could be as strong as we are without faith.

That said.... currently, our Pastor is doing a series on relationships. We're three weeks in to a five-week series of messages that deal with different types of relationships, including marriage (but not romantic relationships outside of marriage... which ticks me off... but that's a different post).

Week one was a foundation for how relationships work, and the model for a relationship between two Christians. Before that message, I had always thought I knew what it meant to be committed. I mean, I know how to stay faithful and honest and how to share. I know how to look out for the other person's needs and wants.

But listening in church that day, I realized something I don't do that is just as important in acommitted relationship.  I don't know how to trust.

Part of the take-away was that a Christian relationship* is "mutual submission" - each person setting aside their own needs and looking out for the needs of the other person. Without that foundation, a Christan relationship cannot work.

I do know how to look out for Toyfriend's needs - but I do not trust enough to let him look out for mine. I still try to protect myself and look out for myself... and while in some ways that is important and healthy, it is not the relationship I want.

To be fair... I don't think he trusts me enough, either. Even though he is always looking out for me, I think there's a small part of him he keeps for himself, to look out for what he needs and protect himself from being hurt.

For the longest time, I have thought that was OK. That two people could build a relationship like that and it would work. I still think it could, as long as both people are on the same page. But I know that Toyfriend and I are looking to build a relationship with a Christian foundation. If that's what we want... our current model is not going anywhere. It may work fine, but it won't grow the way I'd like.

It is a little scary to learn I will have to give in and trust if I want more... I'm not real good at letting down that guard. But it was a huge relief to be able to finally see very clearly what needs to change - and what my part is in the change. It was also helpful to be reminded that I can only change myself... Toyfriend will need to make some changes on his end as well.

Here I thought this series was going to be about the worst thing to happen to our relationship. Turns out, it may be the best.

*It's important to note that it's church, so the ideas they are discussing revolve around how a relationship should look between two Christians. The ideas probably could apply to a relationship between non-Christians, but that's not their point.

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. 

So much more

I've resolved to write more this coming year. The thing is, sometimes I put it off because I don't have time to write out the whole thing, or I want to organize my thoughts, or I want to use a real keyboard instead of my phone. But sometimes you just have to go with what you got, start typing and see what comes out. Then hit publish and hope for the best.

Last year was HUGE for me and Toyfriend. We honestly almost broke up at the beginning of 2017. I never would have imagined we'd get to 2018 together, let alone happier.

We had a lot to overcome. Some boundaries to negotiate - then renegotiate. We had to improve communication - on both ends. I, personally, had to work on setting, and managing, expectations.

We just celebrated our best holiday yet. We were able to share it with both our families and some friends. Most importantly, we shared it with each other with just enough compromise and no conflict.

I know that may sound silly, but for me, it is huge. I have come to expect conflict at holiday time. Being able to share the time with someone is big - and being able to rely on his support during all that family time means everything.

I spent a lot of time in 2017 learning what I want from my relationship - and also realizing what I can expect (realistically). I know I will need to give up some things - some just for now, but some maybe forever.

It's been a battle, figuring out what I can live with, and without. Sometimes it feels like too much to give up.

Then I have moments of real clarity - a genuinely happy holiday, for example - and I realize that while I may be giving up some things, I am getting so much more in return.

Sort of single

I find Facebook groups to be a little like a hostage situation, with most members suffering from something that resembles Stockholm Syndrome. We didn't ask to be there, we're not really sure how we got there, we can't figure out a way to leave, and it seems easier to just try and get along with everyone.

But I am in this one group that I actually enjoy. It's all women (at least it seems to be) and topics for discussion range from mascara to childhood surgery to mental health to pumpkin spice.

Most of the ladies in the group are married moms. Please don't misunderstand - I like married moms. Some of my best friends are married moms. Some of the best people on the planet are married moms.

But I am not a married mom. What's more - I'm not a married mom by choice. I'll definitely never be a married mom, so I'm not even a married-mom-in-waiting.

So some of the posts aren't really for me, which I accept and scroll on. Or maybe I silently troll the comments. It sort of depends how bored I am at work.

Not long ago, I was scrolling along and saw a post that opened with: Single ladies, this one's for you! What do you want to talk about?

Super-excited, I stopped all the work I wasn't doing and eagerly dug in. Finally a conversation I could join!

Except - I really couldn't. They wanted to talk about dating, and family pressure to find someone, and a host of other topics to which I could totally relate.... back before I started dating Toyfriend.

I realized, not only am I not a married mom - I'm not even married, or a mom. I'm also not really single, either. I used to think I would always consider myself single until someone was helping me pay rent. While I still don't have that, I don't really feel single anymore, either. I have relationship issues similar to my married friends - but I have it easier because I have a boyfriend, not a husband, and my own space. I can relate to my friends who are in unmarried relationships - until we get to the part about planning to be married and/or have a family. That's not me either.

So I'm not really single - but I'm also not in what most people consider a relationship. I don't seem to quite fit in anywhere.

Which is probably a good indication that I'm in a relationship that is right for me, since I almost never do well when I do what everyone else is doing... but it does leave me with surprisingly few people to whom I can relate.

Maybe I need to start my own Facebook group?

Perfect to me

I've been sifting through old posts today, trying to find one that I clearly remember writing... but don't remember when, or what I used for a title.

It was about what I was looking for in a relationship. Not something typical... I wanted more. Something wonderful and amazing that made me feel loved and powerful and safe, all at the same time. I had come to realize that for me, love probably wasn't going to look like it does for everyone else... and that was finally OK with me.

(I did find this post... which speaks to some of those ideas. I'm linking here just because I looked for so long, I feel like I need to have a link...)

It's been on my mind because Toyfriend and I have had a couple of long discussions about where our relationship is going, and how it's working. The truth is, he does not want to live together. He says he may in the future, but I disagree. I think if he doesn't already want to take that step, it's likely he never will. Either way, I either have to accept that, or move on.

He asked me the other day, "In five years, if we're still like this, you living one place and me living in
another... will you be happy?"

I was honest and answered, "I don't know."

But I do know that if he had asked me that two years ago, I would have said that wouldn't be acceptable... and yet here I am, 2 years later, and it's perfectly OK with me.

I think love changes you. Not in obvious ways, like the way you look or your attitude or your job or your political affiliations. Real love changes your soul. It makes you dig deeper, and grow stronger. It changes your perspective. Suddenly, the things you thought were most important really don't matter much at all. Maybe it changes your priorities - or maybe it just changes the way you see them.

Toyfriend told me he wants me to be able to say to my friends, "He's perfect." He worries that he's not perfect if he won't give me what I want on this issue.

I thought for a moment, and then I told him, honestly -

"You are perfect in all the ways that matter."

Biggest challenge of all

It sure has been a while....

Quite a while back, after Trooper* and I broke up, a friend asked what I would do with this blog if I found a relationship. My thought was that if I ever did find one, I would use this blog to talk about how one transitions her life from single to couple.

There are a ton of hiccups, obstacles, milestones, and funny moments that make up a couple's journey

from the first date to debating toothpaste, and a bunch more after. I figured they would make for an endless supply of blog fodder.

The truth is, they do. I'm just not paying as close attention, and I'm letting good posts slip right on by.

I suck at relationships. Not because I'm not able to be faithful, but because I'm especially bad at looking out for myself. I look out for the other person first, sometimes at my own expense. I am more concerned with what he wants and needs, and I tend to put my own wants and needs on the back-burner. It's a problem, not only because we all have to look out for ourselves, but also because if I'm not paying attention to what I want - how can he?

Not only do I put myself on the back-burner - I tend to make myself responsible for his happiness as well. I let myself take on the burden of planning, worrying, researching... and for being the bad guy. In my mind, if there's conflict, somehow it's my fault.

That all leads to a lot of anxiety, a little depression, and that means even the best blog posts get away from me. It also is why I think I'm bad at relationships.

It's been over two years since Toyfriend and I met, and almost two years that we've been dating. It's been the most exciting, happy, fun, joy and laughter-filled time in my life.

So why can't I just be confident and enjoy how it feels, and not worry about where it's going (or not going)? I tell myself every day that's how I should be. I tell myself everyday I need to focus on the good, remember he loves me, and remind myself of all the wonderful times we've had and the future plans we've made. I tell myself that is enough...

..and it is. More than enough, actually.

But in the back of my mind, there is this little voice that always tells me that while it may be enough and he may be enough, I never will be. At the end of the day, I am right back where I started, feeling like any minute Toyfriend will figure out he could do so much better, and he will be out the door.

I can navigate all the toothpaste debates, remote control quarrels, and even family scheduling. But my own anxiety and self-doubt... that's proven to be the biggest challenge of all.


*Remember him? He's doing well. He's got a great girlfriend and a good job, and seems really happy. 

Extra weight

I came across this article today while I was supposed to be working. I'm having a weird couple of weeks - at work and at home - so I spend a lot of time trying to distract myself and deflect an anxiety attack.

I know a lot of people who, post-divorce- said they'd never remarry. Whether it was the overwhelming commitment or the fear of losing another person or even just the cost or hassle, they felt they were done. Relationships are fine, but when it came to marriage they'd "been there and done that."

Most of those friends are now remarried. Not only that, but they gor remarried pretty quickly after meeting their now-spouse. When asked what changed, they said they finally met the right person.

So, I'm wondering... if someone doesn't want to marry again, does that mean that she has just learned better about herself? Or does it mean that she just hasn't met the right person? Could a he or she warm up to the idea of marriage over time? Or does it mean she never will, if she doesn't want it right away?

I suspect the answers to these questions will not make my week any less weird, so I'm just going to return to Pinning makeup ideas.

Daily fight

Have you ever noticed that we ladies seem to worry in relationships a lot more than the guys do? I used to take this as a sign that the guy (at the time, it was X) didn't care as much as I did. I mean, worrying is sign of love, right? Right?!

I have learned that might not be totally accurate.

First - people care in different ways. Not everyone is wired to worry. It certainly doesn't mean that the relationship isn't important, or that they are not invested. Honestly, just because you don't notice the worry doesn't even mean it isn't there - some people are just calm, even-tempered, and don't show concern.

Second - worry (especially my sort of worry) isn't always rational or healthy. It has more to do with my own past and my own need to control things than it does my feelings for my person. It may feel like it's because I love him - which I do - but the worry is not a sign of that love.

I have come to realize that my anxiety and insecurity play tricks with my head and heart. They convince me I have a reason to be scared. They make me believe I am about to lose something or someone, or am about to be left behind. They tell me I'm not good enough, not smart enough, not successful enough, not thin enough. Over and over, they repeat, "You're not enough," until I finally believe.

I'm learning to fight back. I'm learning to coach myself; to remember all the ways I am good enough - even better than good enough in a lot of ways.

It's not easy. It's a fight every single day. Combating negative thoughts with positive reminders takes a lot of energy. Sometimes all the energy I have. But it's worth it; the alternative is to give up the thing that is the most important to me.

I learned as a little kid I wasn't worthy of being loved. The lesson was reinforced as a young adult when I started dating. As I got older, and even when I was married, I didn't realize that those lessons had settled in my brain and taken up permanent residence. I thought I was over it after my divorce - but then I realized I wasn't.

I knew getting back into a relationship would bring back all the insecurities and worry. I also knew the only way to avoid them was to avoid the relationship. Which means the anxiety and insecurities win. That is unacceptable.

So I fight. So far, I'm winning.

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.

Double standard

Every now and then, I think of something I want to blog about here...and then I either can't find the time, or am too busy doing other stuff when I do have the time, or am way too tired when I find the time, or I forget the idea (or how I intended for it to be a whole post).


Some of this is a side-effect of my new job, and the added work it creates. It has really gotten in the way of my work-day goof-off time, which was also prime blogging time.


Some of this is a side-effect of spending time with Toyfriend - which should probably be a post in itself, about finding balance between relationship time and time for myself. Just so you know, I have plenty of self time - I just spend it doing other stuff.


I'll work on it.


Today, though, I have stuff reasonably under control at work, so I've decided to take the time to write about something that has really been bothering me.


The side-effect on my friendships.


Between the fact that I spend a lot of time with Toyfriend, and the fact that my work is taking over a lot of my time, I have had less time to spend with friends. Not no time - I will always have time for my friends. Not only because it's what I want, but also because Toyfriend is very supportive and would always want me to take that time.


Mostly, I think my friends get it. They know I'm busier and trying to find time in my schedule for everything. Plus, most of my friends are in relationships - it's not like they had a ton of time for me before, and they understand wanting to be with my person. Especially since it's new, and Toyfriend and I still actually like each other.


But some friends seem miffed that I have less time. Which, I could probably understand, if not for the fact that these same friends have cancelled plans on me in the past because something better (read: a guy) came along (actually most of these friends have cancelled on and/or excluded me altogether for better offers that came from a variety of places, not just guys).

I guess I'm just finding it a little unfair that I'm in trouble for doing something every one of them has done to me - but that was OK. Seems to me the standard should be equal, and not different depending on who has the new boyfriend.

But, I also get it. I've been pretty available for, like, ever and haven't had any one particular person in my life who took up the majority of my time. I'm sure people have come to expect that I will be around, and my absence might feel personal - like I'm just not making the time for them.

For what it's worth, I guess my advice is this....

If you have a friend who has recently found someone, cut her some slack, especially if it seems this is a guy who may be around for a while. She's probably doing her best. If she refuses to make plans, or cancels all the time, don't be afraid to call her out. But if she is making plans - and especially if you're the one canceling - give her a little credit.

If you're single, don't spend too much time with your friends. You're setting the bar too high.

A peaceful present

So, it's been a while... I'm sorry about the absence. Between a promotion at work (Go me!), holidays, Toyfriend, family, volunteer stuff - time just got away. Before I knew it, we were turning the page on 2015. Happy New Year!

When we last chatted, I was dealing with some anxiety. I'd actually gotten a pretty good handle on it by the end of the year. I started journaling again, and spent a lot of time working on dealing with the present, rather than worrying about what might happen in the future. I also started coloring - I highly recommend that as a stress-reducing hobby that has the benefit of being fun and portable.

But that's the trouble with anxiety - it's irrational, unpredictable, and comes and goes as it pleases. This was a huge problem for me before I knew what anxiety was, how it behaves, and its effect on me. Part of learning to manage my worries is learning their causes, how to identify if they are really as bad as they seem or if they are being exaggerated by my anxiety, and most importantly, what calms them down.

Recently, I've noticed a little worry creeping back in. At first I couldn't figure out what my problem was. It started as an innocent conversation about something going on with someone in Toyfriend's family. It had nothing to do with me, him, or us. Zero. But somehow, it morphed into a conversation about our relationship, where it's headed (Spoiler Alert: Nowhere fast.), and what we both want.

Let me be clear: Toyfriend and I are on the same page. We're both happy with the way things are and in no rush to change anything. It's super-important for me to say that because I was losing site of it fast, and I need the reminder.

While we were talking, Toyfriend said he has "no interest" in taking the next step. Given that we are together 5-6 nights a week and most of the weekend, have keys to each other's homes, keep toiletries and clothes at each, have met family and friends, and are planning a big vacation, we agreed the "next step" would be living together.

The truth is, I'm not interested in moving in together any time soon, either... but I would like to know that the option might be available in the future. Toyfriend's "no interest" sounded like a formal declaration that he will never want more than what we have right now. Even though I'm happy in this moment, thinking the door had just been slammed on anything more scared the hell out of me.

Is this a dead end? Does he want an exit strategy? Does he love me as much as I love him? Am I settling? Am I giving up too much? These thoughts started swirling through my head fast and furious - and it was overwhelming.

When I came up for air, we talked a little more. Toyfriend isn't slamming the door - but he is also not ready to open it just yet. He can't say for sure if he ever will be. He did say he "can't see us being in this place forever."

When I thought about it, I remembered that I need to focus on the present. We're both happy, on the same page, and able to talk things through. Toyfriend doesn't shut me out, nor does he shut me down. He listens to my worries, no matter how irrational they may seem. He never judges me or minimizes my feelings.

I also remembered that this is what it means to focus on the present and not the future. Neither of us can predict what will happen, nor should we rush into something before the time is right for us both.

I can't guarantee that I will never feel like I need that next step... and I can't guarantee that I will. Toyfriend is the same boat. He may never want to take the next step - or maybe he will.

I can't force it or try to change him. I can't rush into something just to "lock him in." It would be foolish to judge the relationship based on something that may or may not happen, when it's something neither of us even wants right now.

All I can do is check in with myself, focus on what I want in the present, and make sure my needs are met. I can check in with him and make sure we're on the same page. Mostly, I can enjoy the happy, healthy, honest relationship I'm in - and be grateful for every day I get to be this happy.

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.

Looking for a type

You may or may not realize this, but I am white. Yes, I mean white as in caucasion, as in not-a-minority.

Up until I met Trooper, I pretty much always dated white men. That wasn't by design, just the way things worked out. I didn't date Trooper because of his race, or really even in spite of it. I dated Trooper because he was a nice guy - who happened to be African American.

When we broke up, I guess I did lean towards a particular "type" of guy. I mostly dated outside my race, though there were several dates with white guys mixed in. Again, it really was just the way things worked out.

When I dated outside my race, I came to expect questions, looks, or comments. I could predict what was coming, and knew how to respond.

But I honestly never thought I would spend any time explaining my choice to date a guy of the same race.

When I first started telling my friends about Toyfriend, the reaction was the same, pretty much across the board. Even when I wasn't around, friends reported back that other friends reacted the same:

"Wait - he's white?!"

I probably should have anticipated the reaction, and it probably shouldn't bother me. After all, I did have a "type" for a while. People know what sort of men I find attractive, and I guess everyone just assumed that was the type of guy I would end up with. I suppose because that's who they would expect me to meet.

I guess I just wish that my friends' first reaction would be one of happiness. Like, "Wow, GGS seems happy - how great is that?! She deserves it." A few friends did react exactly this way - you know who you are, and I hope you know how grateful I am.

But I think I also wish that people had believed me when I said I never dated anyone because of his race. The surprise makes it seem like people expect race was a deal-breaker for me - and it never was. It is certainly true that I find men of a particular race very attractive - that's been true since my first crush. But liking how someone looks and falling in love with who someone is are very different things.

When I was just looking for someone to spend a little time with, I went looking for guys based solely on physical attraction. Why not, right?

But if I had stuck to that "type" and made race a deal-breaker, I'd have shut out the possibility of the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. Yes - I said ever.

That's the thing about "types" - they work when you're doing the looking. They don't work when you're ready to be found. 

(The fact that Toyfriend is completely adorable is really just icing on my happy little cupcake.)

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.

Faith is bigger than fear

So....

Remember when I said I've met someone and it's gotten serious and I'm still trying to catch my breath?

Here's the funny thing. It's Hiker.

Yes, I know what I said. We're in different places and want different things. We don't have a ton in common. I don't want to be the "you'll do for now" woman.

The thing is, we kept spending time together. We were just friends - he talked to me about the women he was seeing, I talked to him a bit about the guy I was seeing. We had fun, we laughed, always had something to chat about. It was great.

Then I started to notice something funny was happening. When I made plans for my weekend, I always wanted to make sure I saw him. If I was looking to invite someone out, he was my first thought. I looked forward to his number coming up on my phone. The most telling thing was when I found myself feeling jealous when he talked about his dates.

I was falling for Hiker (who, by the way, would like me to refer to him as "Toyfriend" going forward).

I knew all the aforementioned issues were still a challenge, and a part of me thought I should stay away. But another part of me started to realize that this was someone who makes me happy. Truly happy - which was something I haven't felt in a very long time.

I decided happiness was worth the risk, and even if I get hurt, it would be worse to wonder "what if" for the rest of my life. I finally thought that maybe I needed to stop worrying about all the reasons it wouldn't work, and focus on the reason it could: We make each other happy.

One night, after a great non-date, Toyfriend and I had a very long conversation about all the reasons we shouldn't date.

Then I kissed him. (Way to stand your ground, GGS.)

We have seen each other almost every day since. Turns out, Toyfriend was open to more with me than he was with those other women. He wasn't avoiding a relationship, he just wasn't with the right person.

I think Toyfriend will be around for a while (so I guess I need to get used to that name).

Trust life a little bit

"What will you do [about your blog] when you find someone?"

It seems like it was about 100 years ago when a friend asked me that question. (In reality, it was probably about 4 years ago.) At the time, I answered that if it ever happened, I would probably just change the tone of the blog to talk more about a single woman making the transition to life as part of a couple. I wasn't too worried, because I really never thought it would come up.

Well.... it's come up.

It happened pretty fast and I'll admit, I'm having a little trouble catching my breath. There's a few lingering doubts and worries, but with each day I find myself thinking about them less and less.

My biggest struggle has nothing to do with him, his baggage, my trust or commitment issues, etc. It has to do with me - wondering why am I OK with such a huge change, and why am I not more worried about losing the woman I've become? As I said to Baking Suit, "My lack of uneasiness is making me uneasy." Silly, right?

I told him that I trust and care for him enough to put my cynical, cold, hardened single-gal attitude in the backseat - and I do. But I'm used to that woman. I know her. I understand her. I trust her. She got through some awful stuff - I value her strength. I'd never want to lose her.

Not only that, but my friends know and trust her, too. Will people be happy for me if my life changes? Will they accept me? Will they accept him?! Will they respect me for finding and accepting happiness?

Baking Suit sent this link last week. It's right - I don't owe anyone my independence or my single lifestyle. If it no longer serves me, it's time to let it go.

My true friends will stand beside me.

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.