As wise as I may be about dating, human nature, and sex, I confess to being rather useless when it comes to actual relationships. I have lots of practice when it comes to everything else.
I can’t really count the two long-term high school relationships, right?
The first was a year with an egotistical, charismatic, and self-absorbed musician who later became a bona fide star. He was three years older yet I was his first lover. He broke my heart and I let him have sex with me for six months after he dumped me for another woman – to whom he’s still married. His band is still around and every time I hear his music I think – wow, dodged a bullet with that dude.
The other was two years with an insecure guy who adored me but who proved to have no backbone, no prospects, and who wanted my life as his own. I didn’t respect him and he refused to hear me when I broke up with him. Drowning his sorrows in flaming Zambuca shots, he had a literal scar as a reminder.
In College I had some boyfriends and a few decent several month-long relationships. But College life doesn’t feel all that real and nobody broke my heart the way the rock star did.
Shortly after I returned home I met my ex. You know the rest. My heart was shattered in 1999 and it took Faraway Lover – in 2012 – for me to even come close to letting down the walls I built to keep my heart protected.
That’s my narrative; oft repeated.
Johnny Id and I had a six-month romance and while I would never diminish it by saying it wasn’t a relationship, it was very long distance and we only saw each other in person twice. Our challenges weren’t the usual everyday relationship things.
And then there was Tony. Sigh. I was a great girlfriend to a man who couldn’t be my boyfriend in return.
So I haven’t had all that much opportunity to practice a grown up relationship with a mature and emotionally available man. I’m used to anxiety and being unfulfilled. I have had men who are really into me yet I don’t like them in return, or men who I would very much like to have explored things with, who just weren’t all that into me.
It’s so different with Fox. He adores me. He says he wants to make sure I’m happy because if I’m happy, I want to make him happy. It’s true; it works. Time with him is easy. He communicates with me and is interested in building something. He’s on a week-long business trip right now and decided he’d spend some of his late-night solo hotel time researching how to make me squirt, and dominance in the bedroom. He’s doing this because he wants me to be satisfied. I keep telling him to chill; everything is fine.
Here’s the thing. The absence of stress and anxiety is still an absence. And I find myself wondering whether it’s normal to not have these things. The hallmarks of every relationship I’ve had where I’ve desperately wanted the other person has been stress and anxiety. A yearning desire for something I can’t have. Shit; I have six months of posts to that effect about Tony. I used to tell myself I needed complexity to stay interested.
So when all that is missing, does it mean I don’t want Fox as much?
It makes me wonder whether I like him for how he makes me feel or if I also like him for who he is. I’ve written about it before and it’s worth thinking about. And no, I’m not searching for something to be wrong. I’m not looking for drama or reasons this isn’t going to work. I’m just doing what I do – observing and analyzing.
It’s not bad – in fact, I know it’s good – but it’s different and therefore requires adjustment.
I’m adjusting. I’m talking to people about it. Friends and my Mom are sending me cheesy memes about how you know when someone is right for you. You feel comfortable and secure in their arms. It’s not dramatic; it’s calm. Blah blah blah. It’s on the internet therefore it must be true.
I’m trying to put aside my natural cynicism for that kind of sentimental stuff. I’m sure there is something to it – but I’m looking for evidence. Anyone?