Earlier in the week, I was feeling the feels of fall – which, for me, usually entails wistfulness for those times when I was coupled up. This happens every fall (cuffing season) and intensifies as the holidays approach. I spent the better part of a day writing about it and trying to understand why it happens. More specifically, I was trying to write about this strange interplay between being content and embracing life as a single person yet remembering the richness of being part of a relationship that was bigger than the self.
As I wrote, I danced and dallied with more than a few ironies. The first irony being that the holiday season, with its focus on gratitude, has an odd way of highlighting what’s “missing” in our lives (which feels like the opposite of gratitude). My biggest hang-up with this is that I always feel like I need to preface everything by saying one can be happy and grateful yet also wistful and yearning. Life’s pretty fantastic, but it might be fantastic-er. Another irony I wrestled with is that in embracing life as a single person, I (and many people I’ve encountered) begin to develop a disposition that almost works against that other half of our persona that might prefer being coupled. We learn to do most things on our own, we become more guarded of our time, and, as a result, we tend to extend ourselves a little less because it’s just easier or more comfortable to go it alone.
I got tangled up as I tried to write. I set it aside.
Today, Thanksgiving, I wanted to go in a different direction. I wanted to focus on the gratitude part of the season. As I made my mental list (friends, health, roof over my head, sense of community, beautiful surroundings, wild parrots that fly outside of my window), I found myself qualifying everything. It wasn’t a roof over my head but was a nice, albeit small, apartment. It wasn’t good friends, it was friends who say hi and give hugs at the bar, but we don’t really know each other all that well. I took the mental list into the shower where I had to give serious consideration to the possibility that I’m incapable of unqualified gratitude. I struggle (at least mentally) with stopping before I add the “but” statement. This is awesome, but…
And because it was a long shower of deep contemplation, I revisited the friends and the relationship thing. I felt mildly confused. About all of it.
A serious relationship like a marriage or long-term partnership seems like it should be based on mutual interests, curiosity, and a desire to spend time together. It seems like it should be a best best bestest friend type of thing. But that’s only my definition, my aspiration. There are lots of serious relationships that take on different forms and patterns. The last “this is the one” relationship I had ended, I think, because my partner felt suffocated in the relationship. We were fortunate to like a lot of the same things – or at least I think we did. And because we liked a lot of the same things, it was easy to spend time together. Now, having spent several years not pursuing anything new, I find myself questioning my definition. Or more accurately, because that one didn’t work and because I haven’t encountered anyone who seems to have a similar and/or adjacent definition, I’ll often think that I’m looking for the wrong type of connection or have unrealistic expectations of how two people should get along.
It took a few minutes for the Buddhist’s mindset to arrive. I like what I like, I want what I want, and it’s not terribly useful to overthink any of these things. Chemistry happens and either it works or it doesn’t. I returned to gratitude – sort of.
For whatever reason, this Thanksgiving feels a little more like the New Year. I find myself wanting to make resolutions. I find myself saying lots of “starting tomorrows”: exercise more, drink less, spend less, write more, put myself out there more, do different things, practice unqualified gratitude, practice acts of kindness more frequently.
I say starting tomorrow because today I’m going to my local pub where they have a potluck dinner for the locals/regulars. I’m bringing pineapple stuffing. I know I’ll spend money and drink beer. I’ll go for a walk at some point and return later in the night. At midnight on Thanksgiving they flip the switch that turns on the Christmas lights that line the ceiling and rafters of the bar. They’ll stay on through New Year’s – which is when I’ll probably make similar resolutions and still be debating the merits of singlehood vs. coupledom and trying to get out of my own way.