Subtitle: Knowing when the loss really isn’t your own

Perhaps what the proverbial “they” say is true — that you aren’t given more to shoulder than you can handle at a given time. However, the very second you might be able to handle some news, it comes your way. And, it might hit you with the velocity of a ton of bricks, but after you’ve handled so much already, you come to a point where it’s just another thing to deal with.

There was someone from my recent past who unknowingly swept me off my feet. And my feet are pretty grounded in reality, so for that sweet gust of wind to convolute my rationality and make me see stars, well, I have to say I was pretty impressed. I became consumed with this person — with every detail I learned, the deeper my passion became.

And was it reciprocated? I think so. Of course, there was that “Romeo and Juliet” twist to it — isn’t that always the way? There was some element of tragedy that kept it from happening. And, even after all the barriers were addressed and eventually removed, things didn’t progress as planned. Of course, as I mentioned in my last entry, I didn’t really dream too hard on it, as is typical of me. I didn’t want to build up expectations that would never be met … even though I did cling to that tiny hope that, if the timing were just right, it would happen the way I wanted it to. Even at the expense of the friendship. (When the light of hope in your life is dim at best, you tend to cling to what can make you feel good, even if it’s only ephemeral.)

Months later, the friendship has faded and so have my feelings. But then last night, I heard he’s got someone new in his life — someone who is to him what I had so very much wanted to become.

It doesn’t hurt as much as I’d thought it would, surprisingly. A part of me wonders if this is the real thing for him, and part of me knows that she’s got an uphill battle against what will haunt him till the end of time. A part of me envies her for being the one who turned his head, but another part of me wishes her a lot of strength, because she’s going to need it. She’s got things with which she simply cannot compete, and I wonder if she knows that yet.

But I say none of this with malice. I loved him and I wish him well. I do, honestly. And of course, there is that part of me that hopes we will cross paths someday and he will look at me in a completely different way. I guess I just wish he’d given me a chance — I felt like we *got* each other and that it could have been a whirlwind of sharing, growing, debating, exploring, evolving.

And it will be … just not with him. When I do meet my Someone, that’s what I want — I want everything I pictured with the person about whom I was referring earlier. And maybe I did dream more than I thought I’d allowed myself to do — I guess I’d immersed myself in how good it can feel to be with someone spectacular instead of remembering what it has always felt like to wonder how to get rid of someone with whom I simply felt miserable.

To my credit, I rarely stayed with someone who didn’t *do* it for me. And I never gave half a chance to those whom I assumed wouldn’t be able to do it for me. On the other hand, I never expected much from any of them — and maybe that’s why I never got their best, because I simply did not command it. Things have changed since then. I’ve changed since then. I seek better people to occupy the precious time in my thoughts and, eventually, the precious time at my side.

Someone recently asked me about something else that did not work out. I looked at the person clear-eyed and, in the steadiest of voices, I said, “The loss was not mine.”

And I meant it. I have spent a lifetime beating myself up for everything I’m not and everything I am that may not agree with what others are searching for. But, guess what? Fuck. Them. During that discussion, the person actually made me feel better by admitting it happens to everybody — I guess it’s like dating impotence or somethin’. 😉 Like, we need emotional Viagra for ourselves and our dates — there’s this great line in Liz Phair’s “Extraordinary”:

“See me jump through hoops for you
You stand there watching me performing
What exactly do you do?
Have you ever thought it’s you that’s boring?
Who the hell are you?
I am extraordinary, if you’d ever get to know me.”

In any event, it has taken me a long time to come to terms with my life, and not just the dating-and-relating side of it. To those who weren’t smart enough to work hard to keep me happy and keep me around, I release any ounce of regret I ever had at maybe not trying hard enough myself. And I am purposely surrounding myself with people and things that could certainly survive without me yet choose instead to thrive with me.

I don’t know how long it has been since I have been comfortable in my own skin, but I’m getting back to it. And, once I finally do feel at home in this skin, only then will it be time to shed it and start anew. It has been said that the company you keep reflects who you are, and I look forward to the lightness of spirit that will allow me to soar with the eagles.

So, goodnight, my someone — wherever and whomever you are. I look forward to meeting you or, if I already know you, to recognizing you. Moreover, I eagerly await the whirlwind adventure we will have together that will erase the emptiness that held your place until you arrived in my life.

On iTunes: Liz Phair, “Why Can’t I”

2 Responses to Ephemera

  1. A.McSholty :

    Sage advice,we should all think like that more…even when it’s hard.

  2. apollonaire :

    That I happened to read your entry was quite serendipitous.
    “Never said…” was on sirius on my drive home from a late night in the office.
    Not only that, but I was musing over some of those same sentiments today.

    I wonder continuously how women my age (oh the ripe age of 26 3/4) have settled down and found their loves….and me….single and (not quite) loving it. I need to be single right now…until I can move to wherever I get into a phd program…but how I long for arms around me at night.

    Anyway, great blog.

    Touche 1000x over.