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...
Friday, November 13, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Why I Love My Job #216
At the beginning of every year we take the new 8th graders to "Leadership Camp" for ropes course and community building activities (and for handstands, volleyball, and finding out who is going out with whom). I get to use my outdoor education experience and stretch my wings building an experiential program for the kids I know so well in another context. Every year I feel simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted by my worlds coming together. Like I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. But it makes me so tired that I can't imagine teaching kids full time (God bless those of you who do).
New this year to my ever-expanding job, I have an Advisory of nine exuberant 7th grade girls who come to my room 30 minutes every day to get organized, talk about social and emotional life, and bond as a group with an adult they trust. Basically all of my favorite things. So suddenly I'm filled with professional inspiration. Staying up late reading research, writing plans for relational aggression lessons, getting advice from teachers, parents, and counselors, energized and excited to try things, lots of love and patience for students...
It occurs to me: isn't that supposed to be what you do when you get a degree in all this stuff? But I'm more that a little gun-shy when it comes to graduate school. You can only drop out miserable from so many institutions of higher learning before you begin to loath the thought of opening yourself up to torture again. Am I finally really personally invested in what I want to learn? Enough to outweigh the old paralyzing perfectionism? If so, how and where? Teaching certification/masters? Finish the school counseling degree?
Despite uncertainty about the particulars, it seems like I might have to consider giving in to that teaching degree I've been trying so hard to avoid. And maybe happily. Hard to fight with that feeling of doing what you are meant to do.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Bring It Back To The Breath
Take a little Chaos. Add two parts Greener Grass. And some Goldilocks. Welcome to my summer. Lovely. I'm looking into filing for a do-over.
My initial strategy to cope with change and loss in my life was Deny & Distract for as long as possible. Don't get enough sleep. Don't exercise enough, and eat too much. Then cry in public at inappropriate moments. (They still don't know what to do with me, but at this point I can barely work up the energy to care.)
My body has been nearly as much of a mess as my emotional state. At the ripe old age of 32, I don't seem to recover from late nights, overindulgence, injury, etc. quite like I used to. The handstand incident injury and my knee issues linger. Apparently, you are supposed to actually do your physical therapy for things to get better, or something. Also as strangely, eating more and exercising less doesn't so much help you fit into your favorite jeans. For me, momentum is everything when it comes to taking care of myself. When the emotional slump starts and exercise goes out the window, it feels insurmountable to get back on track. Even the threat of public humiliation didn't get me going. I did one mini-triathlon at the beginning of the summer, but I let it slide so much that I didn't even try to do the Danskin, therefore wasting a ton of work over the winter and spring.
When my Mom suggested trying yoga again and offered it as a birthday present, I was intrigued. And of course, slightly desperate.
My first class in years started a little rough, but I knew it was good. I was astounded by how sweet it tasted to take a purposeful deep breath. I think I kind of forgot about breathing for a while there. Though my brain won't hold still for more than two seconds - except to focus on counting Lululemon labels around the room and wonder if I would be better at yoga if I was wearing $60 tank top ('cause I know the point of yoga is soooo all about materialism). A moment of mixed success came when the teacher led us through a breathing exercise where you press one nostril closed at a time - which did stop the rest of my brain for a while as I became consumed with how frustrating the exercise was. Baby steps, I guess.
It's been about a month of yoga, and my muscles now beg for it if I skip a day. Which makes me slightly alarmed about how stiff and disconnected I must usually be. I am also attracted to yoga's potential for spiritual connection as well, since it didn't seem fair to sit in church and complain about them talking about Jesus too much. But I need sources of wisdom. And to feel some grace.
I'm hoping breathing can help.
My initial strategy to cope with change and loss in my life was Deny & Distract for as long as possible. Don't get enough sleep. Don't exercise enough, and eat too much. Then cry in public at inappropriate moments. (They still don't know what to do with me, but at this point I can barely work up the energy to care.)
My body has been nearly as much of a mess as my emotional state. At the ripe old age of 32, I don't seem to recover from late nights, overindulgence, injury, etc. quite like I used to. The handstand incident injury and my knee issues linger. Apparently, you are supposed to actually do your physical therapy for things to get better, or something. Also as strangely, eating more and exercising less doesn't so much help you fit into your favorite jeans. For me, momentum is everything when it comes to taking care of myself. When the emotional slump starts and exercise goes out the window, it feels insurmountable to get back on track. Even the threat of public humiliation didn't get me going. I did one mini-triathlon at the beginning of the summer, but I let it slide so much that I didn't even try to do the Danskin, therefore wasting a ton of work over the winter and spring.
When my Mom suggested trying yoga again and offered it as a birthday present, I was intrigued. And of course, slightly desperate.
My first class in years started a little rough, but I knew it was good. I was astounded by how sweet it tasted to take a purposeful deep breath. I think I kind of forgot about breathing for a while there. Though my brain won't hold still for more than two seconds - except to focus on counting Lululemon labels around the room and wonder if I would be better at yoga if I was wearing $60 tank top ('cause I know the point of yoga is soooo all about materialism). A moment of mixed success came when the teacher led us through a breathing exercise where you press one nostril closed at a time - which did stop the rest of my brain for a while as I became consumed with how frustrating the exercise was. Baby steps, I guess.
It's been about a month of yoga, and my muscles now beg for it if I skip a day. Which makes me slightly alarmed about how stiff and disconnected I must usually be. I am also attracted to yoga's potential for spiritual connection as well, since it didn't seem fair to sit in church and complain about them talking about Jesus too much. But I need sources of wisdom. And to feel some grace.
I'm hoping breathing can help.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
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...
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...
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
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...
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...
Sunday, July 5, 2009
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...
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...
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
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?!
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?!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
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...
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...
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