All these beauties in solid motion

I had a job interview this morning, and I’m home now, waiting for the next bus so I can go to my freelance city gig this afternoon. I am very tired, with a touch of a migraine. Just a touch.

The something that started on Saturday night has ended. He twisted and turned and agonized over the feeling that, for whatever reason, it wouldn’t be right, and it would end badly, mostly for me. He is probably correct.

He and I have been friendly for a couple of years, each drawn to the other, always with the flirtation. But we are both single, and we are both ridiculous flirts, so I was never solid that attraction was at the core for him, so much as just an offshoot. For me, attraction is always at the core, even when it really kind of isn’t.

So Saturday night we explore, and come up with a mutual yes. And, thank goodness, go home separately. To our respective homes. And last night he came back with a no.

I am not devastated. I am not bleeding. I am merely stung.

And weary, at my deepest root, of being the girl that everyone adores and no one wants.

And I know that I would not buy into such a thing if anyone I loved delivered themselves this life sentence. But it’s my root, and it’s been… always.

Last Thursday I went on an internet date. We met for lunch. I knew I would not be terrifically attracted to him, and that he’s a bit older (and a bit older feeling) than is my preference, and certainly not a hippie or a pagan. And for the first time, ever, I found myself having a great time with an internet date. Of course it can happen; it happens all the time, I have a sister who is married to one, it just has never happened to me. Where the eyes and the smile and voice feel warm to me, and are all things that make me want to get more comfortable around the person. And at the end of the lunch he asked if I wanted to do this again, and I said I did. And my head was filled with new possibility and trepidation and excitement about getting to know this whole new person and seeing if my attraction might grow and if we might fit into each other’s lives at all.

And Friday night I got the I had a great time at lunch but I really don’t see you as being a possibility for romance email. And I tried so hard not to let it hurt… I have sent that same email… but it did.

Twice in two days.

My history is limited, with lots more fews and far betweens than actual occurrences. But almost every occurrence in my whole life has ended this way. You Just Don’t See Me That Way.

I know all it takes is one. It just sucks right now.

This guy and I (the friend, not the internet guy; internet guy doesn’t exist)… we will be okay. He was good and honorable and very caring in his choice and in how he wants to see things through. This experience has brought us closer. We have spent more time thinking about each other, in a very real and tender way, than we ever had before. From my perspective he has shifted from a character in my story (Married Boss, Gay Boy, Pagan Age-Appropriate Single Dad) to someone more real, and our relationship has shifted to one of substance. He wants to actively pursue spending time with me as a friend. I don’t; I don’t see a need to start spending more in-person time with someone whose arms I can now too easily picture myself climbing into. Whenever I see him next it will be very comfortable, but I’m in no hurry.

And there was the issue of lightening the Joe load. Now anyone reading that, hearing that, wants me to be able to do that without a new man. Obviously, right?

For the moment, the load is lightened. I don’t guarantee that is a permanent state, but after spending a full night and half a day in the reality of I’ve just entered into something new and finally it’s not all about Joe for me, it stopped being all about Joe for me. He has been away all weekend, traveling, and is still away. More away than his normal non-locality. Less accessible. Last night I received a text from him, checking in with me. And I stared at it, like, Whahh?

I went through so much this weekend. Hearing from Joe, I felt like Tom Cruise at the end of Risky Business… his parents came home, and they are exactly the same, and they see him as exactly the same except… there’s a tiny crack in the egg. I stared at the message on my phone (and participated in the subsequent texts) aware of not being the same person I was a few days ago.

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