Ups: Break, Fake, Hook. And Downs

Albert Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Al knew his shit. It’s taken me a minute, but I’ve proven over and over to myself that this is the absolute truth. If I want a different result, I have to change course, go against my nature, and bet on me this time. This has been a week of a break up, a fake up, an invite to hook up, a fall to Earth, and two little epiphanies. Lions and tigers and bears. Oh my.

Straight up, Colorado is a good man. I ended it with him this week. There wasn’t a fight, there aren’t any hard feelings, there isn’t any heartbreak, just the weight of my history and lessons hard learned. I like Colorado, but he spends half of the year working in, duh, Colorado, and he will be leaving in a few weeks. I’m interested, but not yet invested. He’s a good man, and I could be, easily. We aren’t at a place to really consider a long distance relationship, and I’ve reached mine and your lifetime quota of waiting on a man. I thought about just keeping on with what we are, where we are, enjoying the few weeks we have left together, but this is where changing course, doing something different for a different result comes in. I’ve had a long term subscription to if it feels good, do it, but there is a price to pay for it. I ended it now, against my nature, to protect myself, to bet on me, not just gamble away my heart. This isn’t about the man, it’s more the timing, but I know what I want, and the days of my squeezing a round peg in a square hole, those days are done. This feels right. It’s good. It feels like growth, the growing pains were a mother fucker, but here I am.

Now to the fake-up. Y’all remember Corbin from ‘Anatomy of Boy Meets Girl’? One date – at least six months ago. He was blocked for a while, but I won’t lie, I unblock him occasionally because, well, it’s so over the top weird, it amuses me. When I’m chained in his basement putting the lotion in the basket, I will probably be less amused. The last month has been random kissey emoji texts here and there. But the other night…. Holy Prozac, Batman, the other night, he let his crazy out to feed. He started out angry, wanting to know if I ever had even cared about him, that quickly spiraled into accusations soaked in crazy, dripping with paranoia. Eject. It’s not really a break up because we were never a thing, not even close to a thing, but a break none the less, a fake up. Good day, sir.

Last summer I had some work done at my house. A few nights ago, at 2 a.m., I received a Facebook message from the guy who did the work. Interesting. He was offering to come inspect the work, right then. A booty call dressed up all pretty in quality control. The boldness, well, that tickled me, but it was still a pass. What he doesn’t know, and would probably dampen his enthusiasm, is I’ve been friends with his dad forever. I think someone tried to set us up way, way back.

A fall to Earth. Last Saturday, I went skydiving with Birdie for her birthday. A couple of things happened. First, when we made the plans a couple of months ago, I did what I always do, I made a little narrative in my head. This was, of course, a tandem jump, and in my little story, I would be strapped up with a hot biscuit – I named him Jack. He was 6’4”, longish blonde hair, working his way through med school with a heart of gold. Jack would be heavily invested in living the best life and would keep me safe in the 14,000 foot fall. Sigh. Amen. Not once have my narratives played out in real life. Weird. What really happened was I was strapped in with Rodrigo, a Brazilian man who was tattooed from his feet to his neck, and as far as I know, not attending med school. Rodrigo was tethered to me so tightly a piece of paper could not be slid  between us. I was alarmingly calm. The only ‘I’m so fucked’ moment was teetering at the door of the plane right before jumping head first. Luckily, Rodrigo was in charge of hurling us out. The free fall was exquisite, falling to the ground at 120 miles per hour produces endorphins and clarity. At 6000 feet, I pulled the parachute and we ascended rapidly and then began the glide down. Rodrigo and I could hear one another at this point. The definition of insanity – rather than just be, rather than taking in this beautiful sunset while suspended in the sky, I got nervous in the quiet with a guest bound to me. Straight up, I’m embarrassed writing this, but we are honest here. I asked Rodrigo how he came to Dallas from Brazil – he said he came here for this job. I said, “It’s understandable given the political and economic problems plaguing Brazil right now.” (Snap, sister just saw a documentary). This man had my life in his hands and I had offended him. He said, “It always looks like that when you are looking from the outside”, and then something about Trump. First rule of a good hostess – don’t talk politics or religion, especially airborne and with the man controlling the silk between you and the ground. But here’s the thing, I felt compelled to fill in the silence. Why do I do that? I couldn’t have stopped myself at the time, from talking, like I was on a fucking talk show. Here is the epiphany. This is what I have learned. I must get comfortable in silence. It is not my job, nor is my commentary wanted. I will learn to be quiet, I will learn to embrace it. I have to.

Somewhere in all this, I had my second epiphany. I have two settings: interview mode and entertainment mode. I give very little of myself. I’m not sure I know how. Since I began this… quest…? Project…? Since I’ve put myself out there and began this blog, it’s interesting to note that the men that I’ve had authentic conversations with, or even agreed to meet, have read the blog. I’m real here. They have read the cliff notes version of me, learning far more information than I would share in regular conversation – the good, bad, and the ugly. Here’s the truth. I suck at small talk, it’s superfluous. I’m not good at sharing myself, and that leads to me knowing quite a lot about them, and them knowing very little about me. I’m examining this. I heard the other day that trust is built in increments, little divulges of oneself that are kept safe. I get, but I don’t give, not for a long, long time. I have been doing this all my adult life. I need to heed Al. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I feel like Annie Sullivan with Helen Keller learning water – I have to re-learn how to talk to people. I need to not to be so closed off. In the building of trust, I have to give some to get some. And sometimes, I need to be quiet.

Go forth and conquer.

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