Remember I mentioned some things coming up in the next few weeks to mess with my schedule?  I worked a twelve-hour day yesterday, I’m taking today off to support the sanctuary in a re-zoning meeting, and my cats all get their dentals tomorrow.

Recently I saw this play again.  It reminded me I had this in the archives somewhere.  It’s dated August 11, 2004, which means it was created prior and that’s when it was transferred to my laptop.  I have a strange feeling, despite my great filing process, that I might have shared it already.  If so, please consider me in re-runs. 

“I love you, you’re perfect, now change.”
 
Somewhere, there’s a compromise.  Isn’t there?
 
Between falling for blue eyes or brown, between asking for love-making to be more attentive or the afterwards to be shorter.  It isn’t always about him calling too frequently, is it?  Or her not reaching over to unlock the car door?
 
At some point, you really do think someone’s perfect, don’t you?  And you don’t want them to change. 
 
I always thought falling in love with someone for their faults as much as their strengths was bullshit.  Perhaps because I couldn’t love W for his, and he almost relished his distaste for mine (I believe, in part, because he was ecstatic to have something to complain about). 
 
Certainly I’ve been called cute for my eccentricities and neuroses from time to time.  But I don’t think anyone’s ever cuddled up due to my feet-skin picking habit. 
 
I’m starting to realize I’ll never be perfect. 
 
I’m always going to overstep the boundaries of “too much mothering” (Do you have enough money for lunch?  Please stop mixing pills and liqueur.  What did the doctor say?).
 
I’m never going to be able to put me before him one hundred percent of the time.  Nor will I always put us before others.
 
Maybe it’s less about finding someone who opens doors and more about someone who doesn’t care if you forget to do the same.  If someone’s going to love me because I’m not perfect, the one big thing they’ll have to accept is that not being perfect drives me absolutely insane.
 
This has all been brought on not so much by the play, but by Love, Actually.
 
The little boy, running through the airport.  In tandem with the crowd seeking the Portuguese woman at the restaurant so the Englishman can ask her hand in marriage right there in front of everyone.
 
Can they really be the same?  Can an adult really love as open and pure as a little kid? 
 
Can you really resign yourself to the possibility of total, utter heartbreak?  Can you really believe that love is worth it?  Another person?  Yourself?
 
I want someone to love me like that.  But can I request it when I’m unsure of my ability to reciprocate? 

I have been so torn about explaining my relationship with TG here for many reasons.
 
1)       To do so isn’t fair to TG. 
2)       To do so isn’t fair to ST.
3)       To give into the feeling that I owed an explanation meant I was no longer writing, but journaling.  And I am uncomfortable with that idea.
4)       In order to explain the entire situation, I would have to delve into TG’s privacy.  I won’t do that period.
 
However, since I’ve made this place very much about my romantic life, it seems some sort of something is in order.
 
If I had my way a long time ago, TG and I would have been an exclusive couple and I never would have met ST.
 
TG and I work so well together that I ignored this little glitch and have been very happy with our relationship.  While I didn’t necessarily want to date other people, it seemed the healthiest thing to do.  I knew that unless he changed his mind, things would eventually end.  It wouldn’t be right to deny myself meeting other people who felt differently.
 
I haven’t written about most dates I’ve had this past year.  They never lasted past one.  (TG in part has set the bar pretty damn high.)  It seemed cruel to use them as fodder for my blog.
 
Enter ST.  He made it to the second, third, fourth…
 
Though it was obvious he wanted it, there was no way ST would bring up exclusivity with all the issues he would be asking me to accept.  But it was hindering us.  He wasn’t going to be able to open up and trust me without it.  And the same went for me; feeling I had to hide parts of my life made me close up about everything else.
 
So, I’m taking a chance.  This is what I think is best for me.  However unhappy TG is with this turn of events, he admits, “it’s essentially a situation of my own making.”
 
One thing ST will have to accept is that TG is still a part of my life.  I will not let such a great friend go without a fight.  TG has indicated he wants that as well.  Yet another reason why he is one my most favorite people on earth. 
 
TG, thank you so much.  For your humor, patience, strength, and support.  Thank you for being careful with my heart.  I am so lucky that you came into my life.

“Something you said Saturday night confused me.”
 
“Oh?”
 
“You mentioned how I am different from other women because I do not demand 10,001 commitments.  And you made it sounds like a compliment.”
 
“Maybe demand is the wrong word.  I have been trapped before.”
 
“Trapped?”
 
“Yeah, like when one day it’s going to the movies and the next she’s asking what I want for our 50^th wedding anniversary.  What we want to name the second kid.”
 
“I see.  Because I had been thinking yesterday.  I was thinking that maybe…I…didn’t want to…date…(cough)…other people.  And I was thinking that you would like that.  But then I remembered what you said and I wasn’t sure anymore.”
 
“I would like that.  I would like that a lot.  I just don’t feel I have a right to ask that because I can’t offer anything more right now.”  *
 
“But you’re never going to be able offer anything more.  This is it.”
 
“True.”
 
“So…it seems either we can make it work the way things are or we can’t.”
 
“A fair assessment.  It would be nice to know you only want to spend time with me.  It would be a relief that you were saving your time for me.”
 
“….”
 
“….”
 
“….”
 
“….”
 
“…I’m trying to say something.  The commitmentphobe in me is holding back.”
 
“I figured.  I heard the cough.”  **
 
“So I think…maybe that’s what I want to do.”
 
“I’ve got a warm fuzzy feeling right now.”
 
“Are you sure that’s not a pit in your stomach?”
 
“No.  It’s definitely higher.”
 
“Good.”
 
*He works insane hours, and shift to boot.  He has mentioned several times that he thinks it might lighten up after this or that, but finally on Saturday I cut through the bullshit and got him to admit he loves his job so much there will always be something.
 
**I get this throat tickle when talking about relationships.  I call it my commitment phobic cough.  I also flap my hands around like a penguin attempting flight; you just can’t see it over the phone.

For lack of anything better or more creative, his name is ST.
 
He was given the chance to name himself, as well as the chance to tell me not to write about him.  He declined both, saying I could call him whatever I wanted and write whatever I wanted.
 
“I think it was Caesar who was known for saying, “Better to be hated than never remembered at all.”*  It’s not EXACTLY what I’m shooting for, but the sentiment behind the statement is the same.  Memorable is a good start.  So if you write something that isn’t complimentary about me, I’ll simply accept it as part of the deal and get on with it.”
 
*The closest I’ve come to this was, “It’s better to be hated than ignored.”  And it was attributed to Hunter S. Thompson.  I am going to have to school this boy in literature.
 
He’s not reading here yet.  But I suspect he will soon.  I know I’m of a different opinion than a lot of people in this arena.  Perhaps it’s because I’m so closed off in real life.  This is one way I can safely open up a bit.  I mean, I let strangers judge me based on my writing, why not the men in my life?
 
ST and I met over a month ago.  He is the charming southern accent I got to know that Sunday afternoon.
 
I had no real high hopes for the date, except we seemed to be on the same wavelength in how it should play out.  Meet up for an activity early enough to do more, but don’t plan anything else.  I’ve been lucky in trusting my gut and the first dates I’ve had in the past year has been at the most a bit of awkward silence.  I’ve definitely had dates that I didn’t want to extend, but none I absolutely felt I must cut short.
 
The first thing I noticed was that he is cuter than his picture.  (What else is the first thing I notice supposed to be?  I did not bring along my X-ray goggles (heh.  I wrote googles.) so that my first impression could be of his great bone density.) 
 
He’s thinner than my usual type, which amuses him because he says he’s overweight.  He needed a haircut, which meant he had little curls corkscrewing through the back.  I liked it.  I haven’t seen it that long since.  And evidently I am over dating tall guys.  I don’t think I’ve had a date with someone over 5’9” since the new boy.
 
I thought the museum would be a good idea.  It definitely was fun and interesting, but I hated how we couldn’t really talk.  I forget it’s not the Art Institute where the shear size and volume of people allows you to at least murmur without the entire room overhearing.
 
There is a courtyard/garden area (I saw the Chihuly exhibit there) and we took a break at one point to sit out there and talk.
 
My only interest was the Aperture at 50 exhibit, but he wanted to see the whole museum.  It was a little cute and a little annoying.  On the one hand, wasn’t he supposed to pay attention to me, not the art?  On the other, it was fun to see him really enjoy himself.  And nice that he didn’t just *say* he was interested in the museum to agree with me.
 
(Again, for myself, I do not really go to the museum except for special exhibits.  Growing up in Chicago has made me a bit of a museum snob; not just the Art Institute but also the Field Museum and MOSI.)
 
I almost kissed him in the room of Pre-Columbia art.  But he’s not as extroverted as most guys I date and that makes me shyer around him.  I’m forever concerned about saying the wrong thing, coming off too rough and demanding, etc. when the other person is quieter than me.  He keeps saying he’s been holding back to be polite, but I don’t think he used the word Fuck in front of me until just last week. 
 
(We’d been watching The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly and it turned into making out on the couch.  When he chastised me that I was missing the movie, I promptly turned back to the TV.  “Um, I was fucking with you.”  “Uh huh.  And now I’m fucking with you.”  I kept my eyes on the TV until I started to drift off to sleep.  I believe he learned a lesson.)
 
I was glad he wanted to extend that first date, and we walked for an hour or so around the neighborhood.
 
As he walked me to my car I could feel the heat in my face.  Here’s the thing.  I hate a first kiss to be at the end of a date.  HATE it.  It’s why I consider kissing someone in the B section of Barnes and Noble, during an opportune moment of audience participation at Howl at the Moon, or in the Pre-Columbia art room.
 
I don’t know why.  I like to be the one who initiates the first kiss.  It just sets the tone that I’m going to be the one calling the shots physically.  Also, I like to get an idea of how someone kisses as soon as possible and in a non-serious setting.  It takes the pressure off and you have some time to decide if you’d like to work more kissing into the rest of the evening.
 
So I was a bit relieved when he didn’t kiss me.  He’d been sick, and it didn’t to pass it on.  But he made a point of saying that he would have kissed me.  Somehow, that was the perfect ending.
 
We can only see each other about once a week.  It’s slow, harder to get to know him.  More than once I’ve contemplated whether there’s any point.  I don’t mind casual relationships but if that’s what I’m going for, I’m looking for something easier than an hour commute.
 
And if it grows into something more?  Well, all the problems still exist.  I’m putting a little trust into the idea that once I am a student it might be different.  And he swears up and down his work schedule will lighten up in the next two months.
 
(I am not holding my breath.  I have resigned myself to the fact that many of my problems in relationships stem specifically from personality traits (such as workaholic) that I find attractive.)
 
He’s…different.  Usually when I say that I mean, “I really want to like him, I really should like him, but I just don’t like him.”  I definitely do like him.  He’s a different different. 
 
It is unnerving how well he observes and reads people.  Just last night I mentioned in passing how I am clumsy and sort of bump into things unconsciously and move on.  He replied, “Yeah, I’ve noticed that twice.”  I wanted to ask, “What two times?  What was I doing?  Did I look stupid?”  It is weird to feel someone else is more aware of me than myself.
 
 Other things he notices both calm me and confuse me.
 
 “On some levels you seem to be emotionally closed off.”
 
Well, yes.  Circle gets the square.  It’s nice someone cares enough to notice.  But once noticed, what the fuck do I do about it?  I AM emotionally closed off.  That and a quarter will buy you a newspaper.  I am really not up to any huge improvement projects in my psyche.  I think I’ve learned a lot about myself and come to pretty stable and happy point.  I have no desire to go mucking up in that. 
 
I wonder though… I wonder if the thing “different” about him is simply how two people usually get to know each other.  I wonder if I chose these situations so that I don’t have to open up…I wonder if that will change…

 His email had promised:

“I can come pick you up in my unglorious truck, we’ll do the Strawberry Festival, get something to eat somewhere in the adventure, and I’ll take you home, weary but thrilled.”  
 
He didn’t disappoint.  I even got a stuffed animal Stewie out of the deal.

“You know what caught my interest within the first five minutes?”
 
“What?”
 
“The little streak up here.”
 
“My witch’s streak?”
 
“Yes.  Not so much that that you have it, although it’s unique.  But you don’t try to hide it.”
 
“I’ve been going gray since I was thirteen.  I’m used to it.”
 
 “I thought, ‘there’s someone who is handling life gracefully.’  Everything is temporary, but looks more than anything else.”
 
To be honest, I have been thinking of dyeing it.  But when I wear my hair down it’s almost impossible to see.  You have to pay pretty close attention to me to notice it.
 
That’s what caught my interest.

Don’t.  Just don’t.
 
Don’t ask a woman five minutes into your first conversation how she feels about the fact that you have a five-year-old daughter.  And after I’ve stumbled through how I’m not sure, I have tons of pseudo nieces and nephews and love them dearly but understand that the relationship dynamic would be different so I’ll just have to see how it goes?  Don’t ask me again in another ten minutes.  Because, you see, it hasn’t gone anywhere in those ten minutes.  Really.  If there was some magical word you were hoping to hear the first time round, fishing again isn’t going to find it.  Live with it or move on.
 
Don’t have a perfectly good first date, plan a second date, and then fall off the face of the earth.  I’m not even that upset over the whole, “I’ll call you” and then not.  I’m resigned to the fact that some people can’t or don’t want to be honest.  I’m not surprised when I hear those words and the phone never rings.  But to actually start planning a second date?  And just vanish?  It’s cruel.
 
Don’t leave.  I know you can’t not.  I’ve braced myself for this for almost a year.  I know you’d prefer to ignore that this is hard.  It’s just part of your life.  Since you can’t change it, why make a big deal out of it?  But for me to pretend it isn’t hard would be to pretend our time together meant less than it did.  That you mean less than you do. 
 
After several instances where I pretended that people meant more to me, for the simple fact that I wanted someone to mean something to me, I don’t want to do that. 

I just don’t.

Miss Kendra mentioned match.com, so I thought I’d weigh in on them as well.

That’s where TG and I met.  (Want his profile?!  Want my profile?!  I bet you do!)

I think match.com overall is pretty good.  True, it depresses me sometimes, but that’s because I see it as a garbage-in-garbage-out situation.  (HI.  I DONT KNO WHAT TO WRIT HEAR.) 

For someone who prefers written communication, it is great to read profiles and see what kind of sense of humor and intelligence shines through. 

My profile is (TG, feel free to correct me) rather unique (a rare gem!), and very “me”; not necessarily in the facts I share but in how I share them.  I don’t get a ton of responses, but I seem to get a high percentage of responses from people I’d actually like to meet.  That works for me.  I’m not in it to stroke my ego or make me feel popular.

match.com lets you see everyone, everything.  It’s up to you to decide what to do.  And I can tell you right now, if you have had a typo in your profile for months and are too lazy to correct it?  I know exactly what to do.

Match is testing a new idea, chemistry.com.  I guess it is supposed to be like eHarmony (of course, I wouldn’t know.)  They send you profiles and walk you through steps before you are allowed to freely email.  I have gone through the steps, and found it interesting but not necessarily worth the extra time and effort.

Oh, and I put another picture on my profile.  A prettier one, I think.  Since then?  I’ve got increasingly more emails that just say, “Hi cutie!” or “I’d like 2 chat with u.”  Blech.  But that’s a whole ‘nother post.

I read this (via Ken) and decided to write about the fact that eHarmony also rejected me.
 
Twice.
 
The first time, I was only separated.  And yes, I understood why they rejected me.  In fact, I feel pretty strongly against dating while in the middle of divorce – it’s just too much drama for everyone involved.  It happened with me and W, but it happened organically out of pre-existing friendships. 
 
So why was I filling out the profile?  Boredom and friends wanted me to.  I too was curious why they chose not to put the relationship status question first.  When I started the profile, I kept looking for this question, so sure it would block me.  Since this was at the end, I didn’t expect it to be a deal-breaker. 
 
Although getting to fill out the entire personality test did make me want to come back once my divorce was final.  So perhaps that’s the carrot.
 
The second time?

“eHarmony is based upon a complex matching system developed through extensive research with married couples. One of the requirements for successful matching is that participants to fall within certain defined profiles. If we find that we will not be able to match a user using these profiles, we feel it is only fair to inform them early in the process.

We are so convinced of the importance of creating compatible matches to help people establish happy, lasting relationships that we sometimes choose not to provide service rather than risk an uncertain match.

Unfortunately, we are not able to make our profiles work for you. Our matching model could not accurately predict with whom you would be best matched. This occurs for about 20% of potential users, so 1 in 5 people simply will not benefit from our service. We hope that you understand, and we regret our inability to provide service for you at this time.”

I guess I could have pursued it and made a stink. I really have no more information than what’s written above.  My hunch is that they judged me as unmatchable because I was
 
1) Honest about my religion.  (I attend church (Presbyterian) more regularly than some, but I am not baptized and therefore not a Christian).
 
2) Honest about my marital preferences.  (I do not see marriage as a necessity.  There are many reasons for it, and I’m not against it, but it is not a given in my mind that if I find a man I wish to be with for the rest of my life we will make that commitment legally binding.)

eHarmony is supposed to be this great place where you will find a soul mate, but they seem to have rigid rules for those deserving of such love.  Is it really so risky to match me?  Aren’t all matches uncertain?
 
And I can’t help but wonder if people tried to be more honest, put more of themselves into these profiles, if that 20% would become greater.
 
I suppose that it is eHarmony’s right to choose, and the reason I didn’t pursue any further explanation.  But they certainly are not upfront about it. 
 
If I had less self-esteem, I would have been devastated by the message above.  I had to go back to the site today to grab that quote and was shocked all over again.  At the time, I found it funny and proof that I am unique.  Can’t pin me down in your stupid personality types!  A rare gem here!  But…in retrospect, aren’t they kind of saying I’m flawed when it comes to love?  Don’t they realize I feel flawed enough?
      
By the way, the nail in the coffin for me was finding out that eHarmony doesn’t do same-sex pairings.  I strongly believe in showing my opinions through my pocketbook and if they for some reason changed their mind and deemed my personality matchable I would not join.