In another post, I published my dating profile. I have absolutely no interest in dating, but it’s by far the easiest way for me to meet new people – though I do ok out at bars and social situations. My profile is effective at getting dates – a little less so in getting friends (that whole false pretense thing). One friend here in Memphis, said she read my profile several times. She said it was almost too good, too well-written – a thoughtful dater with a LOT of experience. My friend Stacy asked point blank, so why be out on dating sites?
After getting divorced, I dated – a lot. I met a lot of people during that time. I took everything in – I’m charming (and then annoying) in how attentive I can be. I care about the details. I listen to what makes people happy and what makes them sad. I pay attention to the inner turmoil people face. I can tell you that the smell of sawdust makes one woman I dated think of her father, it was a bittersweet thing for her; that another woman’s son loved playing with magnets and that she was always waiting for me to leave her (I had no intention of doing so, but she preemptively broke up with me a few times); another woman I dated often felt like she was adrift in a boat on a lake and was learning not to panic about that; a different woman was so disappointed that her father didn’t show the care she needed when she talked about her abusive ex. So many people, so much nuance, so much life, so many hurts, so many joys. I listened, I took it in, I made it all a part of me. I have a profile built on experience, mine and that of others.
When people take the time to respond to my profile, they say things like:
“Ok it’s not often I feel compelled to respond to a bio but yours is amazingly well crafted to speak of truth and sincerity. I hope you have the fortune of finding what you truly deserve. Judging from what I read, that’s the least you deserve.”
“Why oh why are you so far away. How will we ever listen to Foy Vance while watching the sunset and drink red wine, our toes touching? I read what you had to say… laughed and maybe got misty eyed.”
“I have read your profile several times and I am compelled to msg you and tell you that it is just great!! While we might not be a match, I laughed and identified with much of what you said. Thanks for actually writing something and for being real. It’s refreshing.”
When I read these messages, I’m always struck by how so many of us are looking for that authentic connection. So many of us are ready to embrace the real, unvarnished messiness of life. Ready to find our person who will be happy to splash in the puddles with us – our sunset person. Or so we think.
Much of this blog is focused on my relationship with my ex-fiancee, B. I have tried to provide a blend of good an bad. In my heart of hearts, I believe we had an amazing connection and a tremendous future in front of us. I explore the darker moments, because I think that’s the stuff that ensures you come out the other end – together. I explore my weaker and more petty moments, because they are not who I want to be. When B recently reached out, she was upset. She said I have all of this pining, but it’s clear that I hate her. I don’t think that’s the picture I’ve painted – though it does make it easier to dismiss me. Perhaps it’s a projection of how she feels about me. I know it’s not the picture I want to paint. I am not the hero of this tale, she is not the villain. There are no heroes or villains in my worldview – just complex, messy people trying to figure things out. If we’re lucky, we don’t destroy each other in the process. If we’re really lucky, we find that person who will challenge us and make us better, who will be the one who shows us the beauty of the world in ways we had never seen before. I was, however briefly, that lucky.
I’ve written a lot about home, and loss, and who I used to be and who I am now. I then chastise myself for looking too far inward – this is a common cycle for me. I beat myself up for not moving on, and then I try to practice self compassion. The heart doesn’t pay attention to time. I’m coming to accept that just because I wish B were with me to share the life I’m living, does not mean I’m not enjoying the life I’m living. It does not mean I’m not living life. I can be in the moment, I can enjoy it, and also wish I had my person by my side. I have said in several other posts, I really liked who I was before I met B – I liked my life even better after I met her. I was deliberate in my dating. I was not looking for someone to complete me. I wanted someone who would share life with me, someone who would want to understand me (and my messiness), someone who would be comfortable enough to share their messiness with all of the confidence, force, and rawness with which I shared mine. Much of this blog is me learning, perhaps reaffirming, that I will always try to bring all of me. The complexities and understanding I share in my dating profile could serve as a warning. I will explore the dark, I will expect to see all of you – I insist you show up, as often and as fully as you can. And because nobody can be all in all of the time, we will learn to dance and learn to give each comfort and space. I jump in with my wounds exposed, because far too often – we get enamored with the other, and I want to start by dispelling any myths. I will disappoint you. You will disappoint me. The fact that we choose to see past that should be part of our daily renewal, part of what gives us the strength and confidence to dream and stare in to the unknown with wonder, a little fear, and a whole lot of inspired anticipation. I am a deeply flawed human being – that doesn’t mean I don’t like myself. I am needy, that doesn’t mean that I am weak. My profile hasn’t changed much since before I met B. I knew what I was looking for (in the most inexact way). I went in full of confidence and hope. She exposed parts of me that I didn’t know existed – I’m better for that.
I’ve been writing about losing my sense of home, and I’m coming around to accepting home was always inside me. B lit the fire, warmed the place up a bit, put things in their place, rearranged my heart. I loved what she had done with the place. It was a home I thought I might grow old in.
I’m continuing to seek out a meaningful life. I’m continuing to learn what it means to live and love and be in the world. A world without heroes and villains, a world of compassion and understanding. I’m looking forward to sharing it again – complexity, wounds, love, and all.