Is my attention on loving,
or is my attention on
who isn’t loving me?
-From “Wellness Check” by Andrea Gibson
Sometimes, I have to remind myself to refocus my attention. The fragment from Gibson’s poem helps with that. Sometimes, I have to remind myself to loosen my ego’s grip on my perception of and certainty about reality. Spending time around some of my less sympathetic or more jaded friends helps with that.
Yesterday morning I noticed a small cut on my knee. I couldn’t remember doing anything that would have caused it. When I took a closer look, I saw/sensed that there was something lodged under the skin. My first thought was that I had picked up a tick while hiking on Sunday. Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming out easily. I grabbed the tweezers and removed a half-inch splinter/thorn that was sunk all the way in. How did I not feel that? I don’t remember that happening at all and was even more surprised because I wore pants on my hike. While it didn’t hurt, I remained aware of the slight swelling and soreness. That’s the way things go sometimes. Inconsequential things, once discovered or observed, can needle at us.
The other morning I hit publish on a post in which I grumbled about some of the pitfalls and trappings I routinely observe in the online dating space. Some of what I was trying to get at, some of what I was trying to explore, was what I can do to make the experience more pleasant and honest both for myself and for the people I encounter (though primarily for myself). How can I behave more authentically in this space? Usually, when I write something along those lines, I end up feeling like I wasted a lot of energy that could have been better spent elsewhere. I could have been reading or writing poetry or listening to a podcast, or walking around the city, etc. etc. (And here I am, again, expanding/expounding on the topic – you’ve been warned).
On and off these past few days, something has been needling at me: an interaction that could have gone a dozen different ways, but didn’t. The best I can say about it, is that it played out poorly because assumptions were made. As I went for a run on a glorious Monday morning (yesterday), I mulled over the interaction (described below). As I went for that run, I thought, “curiosity is the seedbed from which grace blooms.” Curiosity, when applied towards trying to understand human interactions can challenge our assumptions and can allow us to consider other alternatives. I’d like to encounter more people who water their curiosity. I’d like to encounter more people whose grace is in bloom. I use the Gibson quote above to remind myself of where to focus, to remind myself to not look for these things in others, but to cultivate my own curiosity and grow my own grace.
The Context
As I was putting my thoughts down about the less than ideal interactions on dating apps, I had also started chatting with someone new. Our conversation, which started sometime on Friday, seemed to be going well enough. She asked thoughtful questions. I tried to do the same. Late Saturday night while texting, I asked her out. She said she was free Sunday night and all day Monday. I said let’s get together Sunday night and when it goes well, we still have Monday. She said she liked my confidence. I added that I’d probably be hiking during the day and asked her what her day looked like. She didn’t respond, and I assumed she went to sleep (it was probably close to midnight). Sunday morning, I went about my business – waffles, coffee, some cleaning, some writing about how crappy dating can be. I was waiting for her to respond and waiting for a friend to tell me when I should pick him up for our hike. I puttered around the apartment until I left at a little after 10am.
Generally speaking, I try to limit my phone use on hikes (I’m out in the woods for a reason). I probably didn’t check my phone (more specifically the dating app where we were chatting) until close to noon. That’s when I saw that she had responded with what she was doing for the day (dim sum with friends) and had asked what we might want to do that night (she suggested a walk or a grabbing a drink). I apologized to my friend for the distraction, told him I was making plans for a date later, and gave her a short reply saying that both options sound great I would just need to know where and when. Wanting to seem accommodating, I said, I’m in the Marina (meaning my neighborhood), but can meet anywhere. I checked my phone a few more times during the hike, but didn’t see a reply. Cell reception on the mountain can be spotty at best. When I got home, sometime around 4:30, and saw that there wasn’t a response, I wrote a follow-up text and apologized for not being helpful in deciding what to do. I said I thought a walk followed by a drink would be great. I showered, got a hair cut, ate a quick dinner, and waited. She wrote back and canceled. She said she would have liked for me to have planned better and shown more initiative. As such, she didn’t think we were a match… “best of luck out there.”
In the moment, I kind of wanted to tell her off. In the moment, I kind of wanted to defend myself: I couldn’t plan, I was hiking; I was trying to be accommodating; she could have shown more initiative; we had only just agreed to meet up the night before; she could have asked questions; etc. etc. In the end, I neither defended myself nor told her off. Instead, I said I was sorry to hear that. I told her I had been looking forward to meeting her (I was). I said that sometimes, I’m not great at taking the lead (which is true). I said I’d love a second chance, but also understand etc. etc.
Meh.
The Analysis
Outside of providing context for how these things can sometimes play out, none of the details really matter. They’re a sequence of events. Non-meetings and cancellations and missed connections happen all the time. Moreover, I don’t take any issue with this particular person, per se. The experience is just another example of the many ways two people can choose certainty over curiosity, assumptions over questions, and choose to get in their own way and not connect.
What I found more interesting (or puzzling) about the entire interaction, what’s been needling me like a half-inch splinter pulled from my knee and why I’m writing about it, was my conflicting emotions after the fact. What I found interesting and puzzling was how my thinking ping-ponged back and forth between accepting that this is just the shitty state of dating, and here’s what I could have done better, and this is why I don’t want to expend any effort, blah, blah, blah. Ultimately, in those ping-pong matches, I usually end up with a soft reaffirmation that I want to offer (and receive) grace whenever possible and that I remain, for the most part, a skeptical optimist who wants to assume the best intentions in everybody. She needs more initiative, I didn’t show it. Ok, fair enough.
While I was getting ready (haircut, shower, etc.) and waiting for this person to respond, and also falling asleep on the sofa (long hike, 12 miles), one of my friends texted and asked if I wanted to meet up for a beer. I said no, I have plans, maybe afterwards. When the plans fell through, I wanted that beer. He asked how it went and I shared what played out. He immediately took my side. Scrunching up his face and dismissively waving his hand as though he was swatting something away he said “Ahh, fuck that – who does she think she is? What bullshit!” I’m pretty sure he called her an unkind name. I was hesitant to say anything to him because I knew this would be his reaction. It was neither the reaction I sought nor needed. I told him that I don’t take it too personally, we hadn’t even met, there could be other factors, maybe she needs someone to take the lead, maybe she made a mistake when she swiped or accepted my invite, blah blah blah… whatever. This is what I do when I feel I may have been wronged or at least misunderstood. In addition to trying to own my part of the problem, I make excuses for other people.
A different friend, who showed up at the bar after the first friend had left, also asked how it went. When I explained the scenario (here we go yo – sorry, rap reference), she suggested that the other person may have wanted an out or had another date come up or… I agreed that there could be any number of reasons, but that she only gave one, which was that I didn’t show enough initiative. My friend said, “yeah, maybe.” She said, “women want guys who take the lead.” I said, that can get confusing… wanting guys to respect/honor their independence, but also take the lead. While not mutually exclusive, those two concepts can compete with each other. I told my friend, “this was early – we don’t even know each other, why call things off based on assumptions that haven’t been tested?”
But the more I thought about it, the more I began to question why I didn’t take a stronger stance in my response to this woman. Why offer up that I’m not always great at taking the lead? Because while sometimes true, that wasn’t the case here. I was legitimately otherwise occupied. I began to wonder why I didn’t tell this woman that I was hiking all day and couldn’t coordinate things. Why didn’t I hit back with full-blown petulance and say, “well, yeah! I don’t think we’re a good match because I prefer people who will show more grace or understanding or flexibility.” And then I ping-ponged back to personal ownership (because that’s all I can control). The response I gave while on my hike could have been framed better. I could have said, “hey, I’m out on this hike and won’t be able to coordinate until I get home later – but the options you’ve listed sound great – thank you for that. If you have a time or place in mind, I’m flexible.” Additionally, saying, “I’m in the Marina” could have been interpreted as I’m not out hiking and am instead sitting around my apartment eating bon bons and playing video games. When I turn an interaction like this over enough my head, I not only see all of the potential pitfalls in communication, but usually find an instance or two where I could have done better. I could have done better. I could have been more clear.
When I told my second friend I could have been more clear, she reminded me that my date could have asked clarifying questions. The second friend is more understanding and nuanced than the first friend. My second friend asked what I was going to do, would I reach back out? clarify? try again? I said, “let it go, I suppose.” But I was torn. Let it go? Stand firm and offer a defense? Ask for grace? Break off the connection and call it a day? I told my friend I’d sit on it. Which is what I did until this woman deleted the connection on the app.
Meh.
The Irony
Years ago when I was in a pretty serious relationship, I was the one who would make assumptions about why my partner couldn’t or wouldn’t respond to texts or wouldn’t take more of a lead on planning things. I was the one who was inflexible when it came to making or changing plans. We were, of course, much further along in our relationship than any of these experiences, and being further along means the stakes are higher and the nuances are usually more complicated – but still, the irony isn’t lost on me.
In that relationship, our penultimate argument, the one that set the stage for the final one, began over her not communicating very much on a day in which she was going on a hike with a mutual friend. In that moment, all I really wanted to know (mixed in with some disappointment that I couldn’t join them on the hike) was whether or not I should plan on having dinner by myself. She took my question to be a passive aggressive swipe at her for not being around. Ughhh communication between humans is stupid and unnecessarily fraught with landmines.
Back then, while grounded in the understanding that learning to communicate better was always going to be a part of the process, I wasn’t immune to making assumptions and taking her actions as a sign of non-interest. Back then, with her, I showed lots of initiative and interest – which I think was appreciated until it wasn’t and she began to feel suffocated. I can even remember an early conversation in which I said that I’d want her to bring her full self to the relationship because I can be an overly enthusiastic and big dog who may knock you down and run you over with excitement. I asked her (warned her) to not let me steamroll. Back then, I can remember a therapist telling us that what we admired in each other was also what we found most infuriating (my doting and her independence).
Ever since then, I’ve taken a far more cautious approach. Ever since then, I’ve taken a far more zen approach to relationships and life. It will happen or it won’t and life will move on as it tends to do. I’ll do my best and I’ll try to assume the other person is doing their best as well. Being both tired of the game and quite satisfied with my solo lifestyle, I take fewer shots than I used to. I match with fewer people and am probably harder to impress, or less excitable, than I used to be. Maybe that’s another way of saying I’ve become more jaded or just old. I don’t know the last time I was the big stupid dog clumsy with excitement. I don’t know the last time I was doting or steamrolled. More often than not, if I’m not stalling out, I’m beep beep backing up the truck or staying in the house with the keys buried in the drawer next to a pile of tangled rubber bands because driving sucks and leaving the house feels treacherous.
When things don’t work out now – even minor things like a misunderstanding, a snub, a missed opportunity – I reflect. In my reflections, I’ll return to that earlier relationship because we had a really good beginning (though a pretty disastrous ending). Back then, I was excited to get out of the house, I was practically jumping out of my skin at the prospect of meeting up, and with so many non-starters, I don’t take for granted the unbridled enthusiasm of good beginnings. I also return to that relationship because the unhealthy pattern that evolved between us – a pattern of push-pull, chase-flee, and negotiating communication styles and needs – is a dynamic that exists in nearly every relationship, especially the early stages. It’s a dynamic that I expect to encounter again and hope to navigate more deftly.
Being told that I didn’t show enough initiative felt like being told that I needed to give chase. Because we hadn’t met and had only talked for a day or two, I couldn’t justify giving chase any more than I already was. Show more initiative? Plan better? I don’t know, I asked her out and when she suggested an activity, I said sounds great, looking forward to it. That seems like it would suffice for two people who don’t know each other. But perhaps more importantly than all of that, I grew to dislike the chase-retreat dynamic (or as psychologists refer to it, the toxic cycle) that had evolved in past relationships. I want something that’s more mature, more forgiving. I want something that’s low-key and drama free. I want something that’s based on mutual curiosity, fewer assumptions, and and abundance of patience and understanding. Unfortunately, seeking such mellowness, I can no longer discern if that level of calm necessarily excludes being excited about someone – necessarily dampens the early flames that often define and give shape to good beginnings.
After years of reflection and a healthy dose of building a more robust inner self, I think I’m better equipped to avoid, or at least mitigate, the disastrous ending. Now, it’s good beginnings that remain elusive. When I lament the inability to get off the ground, or when I over-think what could have been done differently or better, is when I most need to remind myself to do the wellness check – is my attention on loving, or is it on who isn’t loving me? Is my attention misplaced on the thorn that’s already been removed?