Let the Diamonds Sparkle Anyway

I surrender. I am too tired and sensitive for this.
Life is too short to give so much energy to what you think may be missing.

How about trying to focus on what I do have, rather than what I don't?!
Maybe embrace all the kinds of love that are already in my life.

If/when I find a partner, lovely. But I can't seem to work up the energy to put in any more effort at the moment. And I'm actually pretty content in my little life at the moment.

Recently, my parents were changing safety deposit boxes and brought out the diamond ring my grandmother left me. I had always figured that someday I'd use it to make an engagement ring. But I tried it on, and I felt suddenly much more adult - like at least my hands were now more equal with the women who get to wear the expensive sparkly badge of being loved.

I decided to just start wearing it on my right hand. I added a little purple to make it more "me" and hopefully a little less engagement-y. Yes, now at first glance my hand might communicate "not available" to men, but hopefully just to those who don't know their right from their left and/or who aren't interested enough to stick around for a minute and find out.

Enough with the waiting.

Alien Abduction?

Just when I was so proud to be brave enough to try again...
He disappeared. Poof. Into thin air.

So, what are you supposed to do with that? Was I dumped? Should I be hurt? Did something happen to him? Should I be worried? Is he really so scared to face me? Should I feel compassion for him? Or is he dead?! Should I call hospitals?

Once I decide it was most likely that I was dumped... and I go through some good old-fashioned self-doubt and hurt... and then some hearty fury... I move into complete dating surrender. Pretty sure dating is in NO way worth it. I decide I am DONE. Finito. Fertig. Finis. Over it.

(Until, luckily a cute guy at Lulu Lemon who writes his grandma every week started to snap me out of such drastic thinking...)

We had often discussed our mutual experience with depression and battle with the accompanying instinct to withdraw from the world. So I am hoping it is safe to assume he retreated (not died) - either to avoid a difficult conversation or to avoid the world in general - 'cause I'd feel bad about being so hurt and angry if it turned out something actually happened to him.

But then, upon remembering his openness to the possibility of extraterrestrial life...

Maybe they came for him?!

Snakes vs. Aliens

So, you know those great newly-dating flowing conversations about everything and nothing? When you dig into life, love, dreams, greater purpose, etc. and find out all sorts of things about the person for the first time? I love those conversations.

But what do you do when those great conversations veer towards an admission of serious belief in, um... extraterrestrial beings?!

He actually has some great arguments based on historical and scientific research. And the fact that his mind is so open to other ways of seeing things is very attractive to me. And he is aware of how absurd it all sounds to most people.

But I feel a little like it's the snakes all over again. I mean, I want to be open minded and not make rash judgments.

But aliens?!

How Skinny is Too Skinny?

I've always said I can't date a guy who wears smaller jeans than me. Sorry, my fragile body image can't handle being the larger one in the relationship - I need to feel feminine and attractive, so smaller - right? Not that I would ever judge people by appearances (ha!). And not that I would be at all horrified if a guy judged me by those kinds of superficial standards.

So by any chance am I finally mature enough to put happiness over body issues? 'Cause his jeans are definitely smaller.

A friend said something to me a while ago that I have been mulling over. She said she likes me at my current weight better than when I'm thinner - this weight "suits me better". Huh.

More surprising to me than the comment itself was my reaction to it. First, I let myself consider what it might be like to believe her for a moment. Then, I became confused about why I'd never even considered that possibility for myself before.

Um, duh? At some point didn't we decide something about thinness and an unhealthy illusion concocted and perpetuated by inauthentic popular culture? And about the endless pursuit to be thinner actually being a misplaced attempt to cover up deeper emotional needs? I actually do prefer women's bodies that have some softness and curve. And I would whole-heartedly argue that a healthy well-balanced internal and external life leads to a healthy well-balanced body - and that weight, whatever it is, is when someone is most attractive.

But somehow I'm still sure I'd be happier if I were just one size smaller and if everyone stayed on their side of stereotypical gender body norms. Nice.

Luckily for now, he has found ways to express his appreciation for the curves...

What kind of guitar do you have?

So I had an introduction. I walked into a party and my friend got excited and started saying, "Where's Mike? Where's Mike?" I responded, "Uh, who's Mike?" Apparently, Mike is her coworker who she thinks I should date, and her not-so-subtle way to communicate this is to talk to me about it loudly while pointing directly at him. Then, she goes across the room to him, talks excitedly in his ear, and gestures directly at me. Totally not obvious at all. No pressure.

Other folks at the party get in on scheming about how to make this happen. Finally, my friend's husband suddenly yells over to him, "Mike, what kind of guitar do you have?"

Nice. Awkward "guitar" conversation ensues while we all pretend to take this pretense seriously.

But then we relax, the others slip away, and real conversation begins...

Gun Shy

I saw this pendant on etsy recently and was a little worried by how much I loved it...












This winter, one of my fabulous single friends (one of the two, that is...) hatched a plan for us to follow directions from the book "Love in 90 Days" to get back up on the horse. It sounded like something that I would usually be up for (embracing how silly it might be). Yet for some reason I couldn't get myself to even crack the book when it came from the library. (She had told me that the author made you start by saying "hello" to 5 guys, and that was too much for me.)

I've spent the nine months since the end of my last romantic entanglement feeling like dating was the last thing I wanted to do, even though I wanted to want to - feeling like the last outsider at baby shower after baby shower, but powerless to even take a first step anywhere near that road. The only flutters I've even felt have been in completely unlikely or unwise circumstances. I may be guarding my heart from anything that could be real, i.e. anything that could actually hurt. Again.

And I seem to have even gained some weight back to make sure to keep them away.

But the good news is actually that I'm feeling like I might be able to stand to consider trying it again - if and when an opportunity arises. Maybe.

The Trouble With Trouble

You should be very proud of me. My librarian friend's nephew was laying it on thick at her birthday party (i.e. When was I going to let him take me out to dinner? Wasn't I going to stick around for the rest of the evening?). He was plenty cute, ridiculously funny, and the chemistry was definitely ON. But I happen to have enough insider information from hours on the ski lift with his aunt to know that he's definitely not what I'm looking for. At least not right now, if ever. Yet I felt this irrational pull to abandon principle and responsibility by staying and indulging.

Somehow I managed to drag myself away, though a lot more reluctantly than I'd like to admit. Luckily, I had help from a friend who saw exactly what was going on and reminded me to "aim higher".

A little electricity and I'm ready to dive head-first straight into bad decisions? I've been down that very road more than a few times now, and there's no way I don't get caught up and/or end up with an awkward related-to-a-beloved-coworker hangover.  But bad decisions can sometimes be so cleverly disguised... as our Middle School director reminds us, "The trouble with trouble is it starts out as fun."

But the Nephew knows where to find me if he really wants to. C'mon, there are certainly worse ways to pass the time... right?! I still remember fondly the fabulous bad decision who I called "Capital T." to his face (you know, the "T that rhymes with P that stands for pool.") And that turned out fine. After I recovered from the day I couldn't stop crying...

Not the Flirt I May Appear to Be

I happened upon a women's "Couch to 5K" running class out of a running store by Greenlake one Thursday night recently, I decided it was serendipitous, and I joined in right there. I figured I've laid some solid ground work on the "couch" part and could use a little push to get going. I don't make that many spontaneous decisions, but the instructor is wonderful, and the group of women is a great mix of ages and athletic ability. It seemed like just what I needed.

I was walking in the door for the second week of class when I heard a voice say my name. Low and behold, it's an old friend from college (who I very briefly dated and) who I haven't seen for at least ten years. So I stayed outside to catch up with him (has a girlfriend, btw). Little did I know that inside the store they were voraciously teasing me for ditching class to flirt with a boy. When I finally got inside, I realized what was going on, turned an appropriate shade of red, and tried to justify my actions to the crowd. I hadn't seen him in years! I didn't know he even lived here! When the subject came up again later on Facebook, I tried to explain that while I am not above ditching class to flirt with a cute boy, that wasn't what was happening!

I made sure to get there on time the next week to avoid any further abuse. And all was going well until our half-way break, when who walks up but the Banker and his dog?! So of course I had to say hello to them! It seemed like an appropriate time since we were stopped and waiting for others to catch up. But apparently I was so wrapped up in my conversation with him I didn't realize the instructor was trying to get us going again...

I was just being friendly, I swear. But I think this is how you get a reputation.

Does He Have a Garden?

So I went to France and very nearly had a torrid foreign affair - unfortunately it only existed in the imagination of the 13 year old girls who I was traveling with... who were sure I was meant for one of the cute young German counselors at the institute where we were staying. I'll admit if I had been at least ten years younger, I would have swooned right along with them. But when I tried to explain the difference in maturity and life-style between a 20 year old guy and a 33 year old woman, saying I am more settled with a house and garden, they simply adjusted their strategy and stared asking guys if they had gardens.

Though I eventually got tired and embarrassed about the adolescent-sized fuss over my love life, their tenacity and amazingly good taste began to convince me that if put to the task of seriously finding an age-appropriate guy for me, these girls could quite possibly get results. (I was kinda hoping the gorgeous ice cream guy in Monaco "had a garden".) So perhaps now when someone asks me about the state of my dating life, I'll just refer them to my new generation search committee for a status.

Wing Women

I was out on the town last weekend with my boss and a coworker and his wife. We were sitting around having drinks after attending a student's performance, when a relatively attractive guy comes around offering us hors d'oeuvres of homemade sausage (yes, you can snicker) from the party he was at there. My boss and coworker's wife looked at me and motioned "he's kind of cute, no?" When I nodded, within seconds they had somehow invited him to sit down with us, made him sit by me, and moved around to the other side of the table so he had to talk to me alone. It was some amazing workwomanship.

So I started friendly conversation with the sausage guy. After going through the how/where/why of homemade sausage-making, we moved on to work and play. He was in software design of some sort and was involved in some film projects, which was intruguing. I'm not sure exactly how it came up, but I knew this wasn't going to be a match when he didn't know who Judd Apatow was. He not only did not recognize the name, but hadn't even heard of the 40 Year Old Virgin or Knocked Up, much less Freaks and Geeks. Not that I'm the hugest fan, but I think they are funny and kind of pivotal in popular culture humor at the moment. Especially for a guy interested in acting and film making, right?!

So I gently set him free with well wishes. But I could not have asked for better wing women. (Though it is kind of a shock to have a boss play this roll in my life.) I didn't even know such a high level of skill in this craft existed. I may be taking them everywhere I go from now on.

Bitten by Twilight

My Christmas break involved the usual amount of retreating from the world, and I decided to use some of that time to finally pick up Twilight. I knew I had to try them in order to maintain my status as relatively knowledgeable about pop-culture (i.e., street-cred with my tween girls). And I knew enough reasonable people who loved them to be fairly sure it would be a fun frivolous way to escape for a while.

Of course, this time of year I am incredibly susceptible to being irrationally swept away by anything that helps me avoid my actual life, but I was immediately sucked in (like they warned). By the middle of day-two in bed with a cold and halfway through the second book, I realized that I desperately needed the next two books before I ran out. I NEEDED them. So three days, 2,548 pages, two movies, and one Google search for whether Kristin Stewart and Robert Pattinson are really dating later... I was done, but only mildly satiated.

I can't quite figure it out. I was literally laughing out loud at the ridiculousness in my hands and at my level of investment in this vapid teenage vampire soap opera. In addition to just bad writing, I had some major thematic concerns. I can forgive the ridiculously heavy abstinence message, whatever. I can just about forgive that Bella is always the one in the kitchen cooking for the men, probably because I'm jealous that she's obviously a better cook than I am. But I'm pretty sure this uber-popular model of undying true love is a actually a cleverly disguised sadomasochistic, codependent, generally dysfunctional relationship. As she is tossed around like a helpless rag-doll from one superhuman protector/ love interest to the next, all while worrying about keeping them happy, I wish more than anything that she would be allowed to unleash just one small dose of Buffy Summers. And does Bella even have any self-esteem?!

And yet I was compelled to read. I could barely put it down to go get something to eat. Heartbroken then sedated by each sliver of tenderness coming from her cold dark overprotective and isolating vampire love - right there in the alarming cycle of emotional control with her.

It must fill some kind of emotional need, right? I'm sure that in the sad state of my current (non)love life, a good dose of undeniable undying first love is attractive. Especially since my own relatively-magical first love is getting ready to marry someone else. And I know a little about Bella's constant need for validation from either Edward or Jacob and her happiness depending on how she perceives they feel about her (I very nearly was that girl once upon a time).

FYI, until book 4, I was pretty much Team Jacob. Not surprisingly, I prefer the warm best friend love-the-one-you're-with comfort of a werewolf to an all-consuming star-crossed infatuation with a stone cold vampire.

Thank god there are only four books. I really don't think that this is helping me maintain my ability to identify and participate in realistic and healthy romantic relationships...

UPDATE 1/10/10: But look, it's a teaching tool! That's why I was reading it... um, yeah. Rachel Simmons (my idol) developed activities to generate healthy discussion about Twilight with girls. Yes, I promise to put myself through the intervention first.

Waiting for Gilbert Blythe

I recently re-watched Anne of Green Gables the Sequel (my official excuse is girls weekend with my preteen niece, btw). Apparently, I swoon like a 12 years old girl all over again when Anne finally says yes to Gilbert on the bridge over the pond after having turned him down a year earlier when she foolishly thought she needed more glamor and romance than her small-town childhood sweetheart could give her...

I realized I might be holding out for Gilbert. The perfect handsome rival/best friend/boy next door/love of your life who is devoted to you despite knowing full well all of your faults, defenses, and silly romantic notions. The person you were supposed to be with all along, who was under your nose the whole time. Who fate handed to you. Complete fantasy?! Possibly.

Regardless, it's a far cry from online profiles, blind dates, messy break-ups, and running into a former flame for the first time since you parted ways only when you've gained ten pounds, have a cold, and haven't showered in two days.

My new approach to finding love: let other people do the dirty work for me. I'm recruiting a few select moms from school to find the love of my life for me. I'm picking good people who know good people... who might know a Gilbert-like adorable well-grounded guy, right? I am choosing these agents carefully, of course - the few down-to-earth parents who I'd hand my own children over to in a minute because they'd probably do a much better job than I could, who are socially connected but for all the right reasons.

We'll see how that goes or doesn't go for a while. Meanwhile I have a few other things to attend to...

Ghosts of Boyfriends Past

The season has changed. School is underway. Darkness is descending, inside and out. Squash soup. My birthday. Halloween. Rain.

Every time my windshield wipers stop mid-window when I turn off the car, I remember my big love at 20-22. He was generally an easy-going guy, but he was passionate that all windshield wipers should always return to their rightful fully-down resting position when you leave your car. I probably wouldn't be here today if that windshield wiper guy hadn't gotten it into his head to blindly love me an unreasonable amount when I happened to desperately need it the most, and I still carry his playful spirit with me everyday. I send a little cosmic apology out to him if I'm in too much of a hurry to turn the car back on to right the wiper situation. It's an odd but pleasant fleeting reminder of having really loved.

Quite a few gentlemen have come in and out of my life, each leaving a unique imprint - whether big and momentous, or small and odd, or both. They linger. Become a little part of who I am.

One of my best friends comes out of the radio with every song that makes me ask "who is that?", thanks to the year with my own personal DJ. The civic-minded environmental consultant who convinced me to use the library again comes out in overdue fines (and a smirk at old Kerry/Edwards bumper stickers which got him so worked up). I can't go through a produce section without a visit from the 7th grade boyfriend and a quick glance to see if they illegally placed organic produce on the same display as regular. Of course, I can't grab green tea mochi ice cream from the freezer case without thinking of the creativity I enjoyed with the Trader Joe's guy. I can't go around Greenlake without the Banker and his dog on my mind (and a quick stop to look for the turtles).

I owe this very blog to a combination of the Med Student and the Ironman triathlete - neither anywhere near qualify as boyfriends, but worth a mention.

The only spooky ghost is that of my high school sweetheart who is instantly conjered up by cheesy 80's love songs, Kidd Valley burgers, Lake Washington Blvd, any early 90's grey Toyota Camry that goes by... I know I am capable of loving with my whole heart in the first place because of him. Also because of him, I know how easily you can deeply wound yourself and the person you love. How you can scare off the people you need most when you withdraw in the face of Chaos instead of leaning and trusting. Still working on that one. Maybe a little haunting is good for me.

The Leftovers Test

The last one was a tortoise that started 20 years ago and never got anywhere. Then it's too fast, too soon, and I jump ship. Apparently.

The Banker could not have been more sweet or interesting or attentive. He made me laugh and made me feel appreciated. But when it all came at me at once, I backed away. Perhaps less than two weeks between romantic entanglements is not enough. Was it rebound? Was it timing? Or do we blame timing when things just aren't falling into place? I was incredibly appreciative of his willingness to put his heart out there. I wish mine could have jumped out to meet it. Maybe it was difference in style and communication. Maybe it wasn't meant to be.

It could also be that I am just the problem. A lot is changing around me at the moment, and I've been having kind of a hard time holding it together. I have not been my usual relatively-generous self, and I'm afraid he felt the impact of my angst. In my less-than-patient state, what was once charming became annoying; what was welcomed invitation became imposition. And I didn't handle it so gracefully.

All I know is that when he started eating the Pad See Ew left on my plate and I realized that I wanted those leftovers more than I wanted to be nice and share with him, I knew I was not in a place to be a good partner.

Perhaps a new dating test: if you have trouble choosing between him and the leftovers, let him go. Preferably earlier, rather than later - not after you've tried and failed to change this reality, which did more damage and made a further mess of things. Not that I would know anything about that...

Must Love Dogs

I have discovered a new potential dating perk that I hadn't given enough attention before... a surrogate dog! I haven't been sure that I'm ready to have my own dog, but it turns out I am definitely ready to date a guy with a dog. The Banker's shepherd mix has been the center of many of our favorite activities: walks around the lake, dinners al fresco, hikes in the mountains, trips to the dog park, etc. At just under 50 lbs, she's the perfect size for active adventures, but doesn't take up too much room in my small house. Though I've been careful not to take things too fast with the boy, I have to fight off the impulse to dive right in with the dog. I find myself daydreaming about picking her up and taking her for a run or just hanging out playing fetch while I garden. I freely admit to him that I might be dating him just for his dog. Luckily, he thinks this is funny.

Seeing a dog-owner life up close has got me thinking... and longing. I recently fell instantly, madly, in love with my uncle's new golden retriever, Rosie. And my latent dream of having a golden has been reignited, especially if I can find a small, very sweet young one to rescue. (Let me know if you know of one who needs a home!)

I'm sitting with the idea to make sure I'm really ready. Funny how I sometimes complain about being left behind while everyone else gets married, buys houses, has babies, etc... yet I keep hesitating to even make a canine commitment.

But perhaps it's time to trade some freedom for a little more love in my life.

Love Him, Love His Snakes?

I would like to put on the record, how incredibly open-minded I am in my dating life. Just in case anyone is tempted to call me too picky or compare me to Goldilocks. I say this because it turns out that other than being nice to grandpas, playing bass, hiking/hugging trees, writing a novel, making me howl with laughter, playing with his amazing dog, etc... the Banker has another little hobby. To which I believe I am being incredibly tolerant, open-minded, and generous.

It turns out he has snakes. Small harmless ones, but slithery little snakes nonetheless.

I have to say he played this one well. He made sure I was pretty well won over by his charming personality and appreciated his many other interests and talents before he broke the news. And he prefaced the announcement with a set-up that I was sure was going to end with "...but we're separated" and/or "she isn't even sure I'm the father". So snakes were actually almost a comical relief.

In an incredibly nerdy kind of way, it is kind of cool. Apparently he has bred and sold them pretty successfully. I appreciate his enthusiasm for the natural world and it's creatures, and I admire his entrepreneurial spirit. But snakes?!

Luckily, he gets that people think it's unusual at best (his own mother calls them "the f***ing snakes"). He assured me that they are actually on the way out, even before I gently made it clear that I, and most women I know, would probably have an very hard time ever spending the night in the same house with his little friends. Not that I'd ever want to ask someone to give up something they love, especially so early in a relationship. But I'm just saying...

Reasons To Respect Your Elders

Just recently, my 92 year old grandfather was nearly on the brink of being thrown out of his retirement housing because he couldn't get organized enough to pay his rent on time or keep his apartment clean. My grandfather refuses to admit that his age might have any effect on his ability to live (and roam about the city with his walker) completely independently and hates it when people offer him help. He is also a compulsive philanthropist who gave away all of his money, so he's on a pretty limited budget. These traits of determination and selflessness would be quite admirable if they weren't so frustrating in his current situation.

My grandfather was refusing to speak to my parents who have been trying to help, so I took my batting eyelashes and my "Grandpa, don't make me cry!" over to talk some sense into him and lend a hand, if possible. Luckily, he was willing to let me try to help straighten things out.

In order to get a handle on his financial stuff, he took me to sit down with his favorite guy at his bank. This guy (who my parents had already been talking up to me) has been extremely kind and patient with my grandfather and even made him a budget which is printed out in huge font to help him see it, which thoroughly impressed me. He was cute and funny. He asked about my garden when I mentioned it. I was intrigued. So I sent a "thank you" email. He replied, then later found me on Facebook. A few rapid email/Facebook/supposed-grandpa-related exchanges later, we met for a walk around Greenlake and dinner, made out in the car like teenagers, and made plans for more dates.

If I had known that hanging out with my grandpa would have been good for my love life, I probably would have been a much more attentive granddaughter up until now.

My grandpa has his own relatively romantic story. He met and married my grandmother (who went out with him because he had a boat) before he went off to England during WWII (ever the radical, he was actually a conscientious objector/medic). He never considered another woman romantically even after her death in 1994, though he never turns down attention from women. I recently asked him how he knew Grandma was The One and he said "because I fell in love with her". As if it's that easy. Apparently, I didn't inherit his ability to embrace the simple and the obvious when it comes to love. But maybe it's not too late to rub off on me...

He's Just Not That Into You?

The good news is that it wasn't just my neuroses inventing things that weren't going well. The bad news is that things just weren't going.

When we finally acknowledged it, he gave me an earnest "it's not you, it's me/ bad timing/ not ready for a serious relationship right now" explanation. Which I thought was generous. I contend that if he was really that into me, working me into his busy life wouldn't seem so hard. At least for me - even with a full life, I naturally make room for someone I am really excited about. Also, I think that if I was really that into him, I would have been able to be more patient with his process along the way. I had a sinking feeling that he wasn't all that I wanted/needed either. But I liked what it was for the moment and wanted it to last awhile at least. We did have a great time together. And the novelty of our past was so much fun.

I was surprisingly accepting that this wasn't it. My sense of worth is still in tact (I'm still pretty sure I'm a g*ddam catch), and I'm willing to hold out for mutual heads over heals. So the adjustment back to single has begun. With some sadness and loss and permission to act out, of course.

Interestingly, I had another of those strange experiences where I felt like the break-up discussion was one of the best conversations we ever had. Refreshingly honest and caring. But why are we so often only able to connect on that level when saying goodbye? Funny. Regardless, it felt good to part ways on good terms.

And so ends the saga of the 7th grade boyfriend.

So, what's next?!

Dating Life of Goldilocks

So the initial flurry has settled a little, and my first concern/ issue/ reason to freak out came up.

Here it is: I started feeling rejected because I didn't think we were making out enough. Yep. That's it. Apparently, spending time doing things like having fun and actually getting to (re-)know each other wasn't what I wanted after all (even though I would have insisted on that as my ideal scenario). Ideas of how I thought things should be going started in the back of my mind, then grew and grew until I became really concerned and upset.

This, some may remember, is in contrast to the last guy who I was upset with because he wanted to make out with me too much. The guy before that seemed to want to make out with me an acceptable amount, but I was busy complaining about the other ways he should be showing his affection more.

Yes, I see a pattern, thanks. It appears it might not be them.

But I'm pretty sure it's not just that I'm chronically too picky (I hope). As I wade into each new relationship, I keep getting frustrated and hurt because I don't think the guy likes me enough. I think that insecurity can still get the best of me at times. And I start to look a lot like a girl who needs a lot of reassurance.

Interestingly, my biggest/longest relationships have been with people who were thoroughly convinced about how much they liked me from the beginning and had no trouble expressing it. So I was free to relax and be worshiped. But this kept the balance of power in my favor, since I knew I was the one who could walk away more easily. That doesn't sound much like the equal partnership I say that I want. But I'm not sure I know how to trust if I can't guarantee how they feel about me.

My friends want to sign me up for Tough Love, and I'm beginning to think it might be a good idea. The general consensus is that I need to relax and STOP thinking too much. Enjoy what is, rather than constantly looking for what might be wrong. Easier said than done, of course...

The dizzy dancing way you feel...

...when every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way.
-Joni Mitchell (from the song Both Sides Now)

Powerful drug, that first spark of romance.
Happiness startles me awake in the morning.
I don't really need to eat. Except a little chocolate.
I walk around smiling. Catch myself whistling.
I feel generous and patient.
I see human kindness and love wherever I go.
I am full of Hope.

But then, good old Fear starts nibbling away.
Sometimes even jumps out and grabs hold of the whole thing.
If it's good enough to make you dizzy,
it must be too good to be true, you see.
So prepare for the worst.
If you start to attach and depend, you'll have too much to lose.
Protect yourself, it tells me.

...if it hurts don't let them know. Don't give yourself away.

Isn't there a way to live somewhere in the middle? Where you relax and enjoy the fun and possibility of a new connection? My brain knows this, but my heart has been so well trained to defend itself fiercely.

If only we could convince my heart to stay open. No matter what happens, I am bound to at least learn something along the way - if I can hang in there and pay attention. God knows, I could use a little more learnin'.

I really don't know love at all.