His writing is what first drew me in.
Each well-crafted Facebook post wittier and more articulate then the next.
We indulged in periodic online-banter for a year or so after we met. A Facebook “Like” here, a blog comment there. Nothing big. Just two friendly acquaintances with a love of the written word. I didn’t think much of it.
Until he texted me out of the blue last July:
“Have dinner with me.”
It caught off me guard (to my knowledge he had a serious girlfriend and I had just gotten out of a relationship). Intrigued, however, I agreed to meet up with him.
Over wine and a shared hummus plate, we quickly realized we were both single. Chemistry crackled and questions swarmed: Was this a date? Did he like me? How did I feel about him? What would our mutual friends think?
After several more dates and a growing fluttery this-could-be-something-special feeling (at least on my end), he had to leave the country for a month. Then he started a new job. Then he got sick.
We still talked but the cadence of communication slowed & I began to grow uncertain about where we stood. At brunch one day I flat out asked him where he saw things going, to which he cryptically replied, “I’m not looking for anything serious right now but I really like you and could see us becoming something serious in the future”. I cried (yes, in the restaurant).
Over the next several months we engaged a dance of sorts. I’d feel insecure/resentful that he wasn’t paying more attention to me, break things off, and we’d go a few weeks without talking. Then one of us would like an Instagram photo or comment on a Facebook post and BOOM he’d be back in my life. We’d meet up, I’d get excited + hope things would be different this time. And again I’d be disappointed.
The thing that irritated me most about this quasi-relationship was that I felt like it was beneath me. Not him as a person, per se, but how careless he was with my feelings. I’ve experienced great relationships in the past and I know how wonderful it feels to love and be loved in return. I deserved WAY more than he was giving me, so why was I settling?
Because I was a little bored.
Because I crave male attention.
Because there wasn’t anyone else I liked more than him.
And because I found it slightly maddening (and unfortunately hot) that he wasn’t falling head over heels with me.
I’m going to be super transparent and say that this guy is still a little in my life. And I’m not proud of it.
I almost didn’t write this post because I felt like it would undermine my credibility as a coach. I didn’t want readers or potential clients to see me as flawed, vulnerable, raw, and imperfect. Especially in the romance department. But I am.
And I’ve realized we’re all feel a little flawed, vulnerable, raw and imperfect in certain areas of our lives. And that admitting to these feelings is actually pretty freeing.
So consider this post me giving you permission:
Permission to not be totally happy with every aspect of your life. Permission to be less than thrilled about tomorrow’s pink-bedazzled festivities. Permission to feel a little sad or lonely, or whatever is coming up for you. Permission to be imperfect.
We are all beautiful souls on an epic journey toward truth and love. There will be rough patches and bumps along the way. No one is perfect, especially not me. And that’s OK. In fact, it’s fabulous.