(Read more about Falling in Love, What is Love/Relationships on Naked With Socks On)
If you have never visited Naked With Socks On, go ahead and make your way over there. And then read the post from Rastaman. (From which the marvelous quote above can be attributed.) And then come back here. And then read my thoughts.
As a formerly diehard romantic, when I first fell in love with the ex, I truly thought he was "the one." I thought he was the one, and I half-way hoped, half-way expected we'd end up on a porch fifty years from then, sipping lemonade hand in hand as we told the story of how we met to our grandkids. Yeah. And when we began erasing our ties, it was simply a case of the right people at the wrong time.* But leave it to me, and I would have told you that life had ended, I would never love again, and that he was "the one" that got away. In fact, for quite some time afterwards, part of me struggled with the legitimate pondering of whether my chance at true love was indeed over. Sure, I felt he was the one, but the rational part of me, however small it was, was persistent in insisting that I couldn't have possibly exhausted my shot at love, all by the age of eighteen. I was too young, too naive, too dumb for that to have been my only chance.
I allowed my hurt time to exist and manifest (that's another story for another day), and came to realize that it was relatively improbable that there was only one person in the world who was meant for me. I do believe that there is a small number of people with whom I'll get along with well enough for it to turn into something greater, like a marriage. But even though I've grown older, as has my viewpoint, there is something that has not seemed to change about this entire equation: my relationship discombobulation.
For a long time
Lately, I've been wondering what part I've played in my perpetual disagreement with relationships. I used to say it was all its fault, but it would be remiss of me to not examine my role in all of this. Being as how I've done a lot work to reach a new level of self-awareness, I know that the problem isn't me being unaware of some ungodly trait or behavior. No, that's not quite it at all. It's the exact sentiment behind the quote at the top of my post.
Finally, I have reached a place where I have accepted damn near all of me. (And happen to like me, too.) The social smoking part, the entire bottle of wine consumption part, the irritability, the enormous heart, the worrying, the no-five-year-plan having, the I-feel-some-type-of-way-about-cooking-for-you, grudge-holding, fiercely loyal and loving part. There are a few things I know would probably benefit me and my relationship with relationships if I tweaked them. Sometimes I tell myself that I will tweak and change these things. But at the end of the day, I know I could change them if I really wanted to, but I don't. Because I love the traits and my embracing of them more than I love the idea of being up on the good foot with relationships. Maybe, quite frankly, I have deluded myself into believing that someone should, and will accept me for exactly who I am. Thus, since I believe in this delusion, I refuse to change myself.
After reading Rastaman's post, I am now genuinely considering whether or not this idea that it will all work out simply because someone will be marvelous enough to accept me as I am is, indeed, a delusion. Even if it is a delusion, it's one I believe in. Yes, I believe and hope within my heart that someone will come along and accept me as I am. Why? Because I believe I deserve it.
So, at least, if relationships and I aren't existing on the same page, I can't say I don't have an idea as to why.
*--he himself said this to me, in a conversation that has now been blurred by my own replaying of my memories. I'm not sure whether he said this to me when I was walking to the bookstore, but that memory is so strong in me that I'll believe that's when he said it. I believe we were on the phone, because I'm pretty sure I would have remembered walking with him. Regardless of how it played out, I remember it being a cloudy day in Gainesville, and I remember that classic line being dropped upon my consciousness. Now, I wonder if he was spitting game. Of course, my first instinct is to say no, but it would have been so easy to run it, that I can't be for sure that he wasn't, though my heart is inclined to say that wasn't a possibility. Life later taught me that anything, especially that which shouldn't be, is possible.