Since I was mentioning Proust earlier, I figured I’d play off of the In Search of Lost Time thing. More than once, I’ve tried to write about time – it’s the only thing that just marches on – it gives meaning and urgency and definition. How we spend it and who we spend it with can be an indication of our priorities. With the right person, it seems to almost slow down or stop.
I came home from a day trip today thinking about all the things I often think about. I passed some time scrolling through the countless dating profiles. I have very little interest. For me, it’s similar to the way I used to pass time on Facebook. I’m not terribly interested, but it fills a gap. I hopped back on the dating sites shortly after my ex-fiancee, B, left. I had no interest then either. I told myself I need to be able to physically see other women… like actually see a picture and be able to say – oh, she’s cute. It may sound weird, but when I’m in a relationship, I’m blind to other women. Even in my marriage, when there was no longer any affection between us, I didn’t “see” other women. I joined the dating apps to get practiced – to force myself to break down those walls, take the blinders off – or so I thought. What I was also doing (and still am) was looking for the thing I had lost. I was drawn to anyone who looked like the person I had lost. I’ve wanted nothing more than to recapture that.
Trivial as it seems, it is like having lost your keys. You check your pockets a dozen times and then check them again as though they’re just going to turn up. You look all of the places you’ve already looked. You know the feel of them, the weight of them in your hand. Their existence was certain and real and now it’s hard to leave the house without them.
I’m afraid if I try to extend the metaphor any further it will fall apart.
Tonight (it’s 1am) I chatted with a woman, Cathy. She’s a widow with three kids. I swear I don’t seek them out. One of her last texts said she knew what she had with her husband was special. She would tell him that if she ever lost him she’d never find someone else. She doesn’t think she could connect like that again. I told her that’s how I felt about the woman I almost married. What do we do with that? And I don’t mean we, as in the two of us, but we as in people. Real and authentically deep connections seem rare. How do we settle for second best? At times, it seems silly to even look – I can tell when my heart isn’t in it. I flounder between wanting what I had and not wanting anything at all. I poke to see if there’s even a hint of a connection. Admittedly, I wish I could handle all of this more gracefully. It’s all been new. Falling the way we did. Ending the way we did. There were no rules for any of it. Cathy said, “I think you have to be complete before you can have a great relationship. The whole Jerry Maguire thing doesn’t work. And then once you do feel complete, you’re like ehhh… I’m good!” I challenged her on this, suggested that even when you think you’re complete, a deep relationship will show you where you’re not. She said, “I know, damnit. I’m tryna be tough over here!! ;)” And that’s the thing, we tell ourselves the things we need to hear in order to get through the day or the moment. We mumble, I know I had them over here just earlier today. We reason and retrace our steps. I suppose some of us convince ourselves that maybe it’s time to change the locks….
I felt a little dishonest yesterday writing that I was happy to do the trip alone. I was trying to be tough. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip – that part was true. I didn’t wander around longingly and forlorn. I got lost in the many moments of being somewhere new. I fully felt the quiet of the trees surrounding Faulkner’s home, I took in the energy of the diner and the people on the street. Even the drive home through the low hills and the sunset were enjoyable and contemplative. And I suspect I’d rather do it alone than with the wrong person. But I learned years ago that for me, these things are usually better shared. And it wasn’t until I got back to that place of reflection, home, that I mindlessly opened up the apps and looked for the thing that was missing. It wasn’t until I got back that I moved to that space between having a great day and being perfectly aware of how much better it might have been. Content and with a pin prick of something not quite whole.