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A Sparkling Pool of Contentment

October 5, 2009

There once was a boy.


There once was a man.

And, like the idea of every other boy or man I’ve ever fallen in love with, my idea of this man, my perception of him, was much more unexpectedly wonderful than any previous idea or perception of any man I’d ever had.

Every time you think you’ve found somebody special, you think, “Never again will there be someone more perfect for me than you are.”  Unfailingly, you believe it.

I believed it.

For awhile, it was a silly crush.  Then, it turned into more.

Finally, I let my heart jump off the deep end into a dark, murky pool of crazy.  I was drowning in crazy.

And I believe, when it all came down, I sincerely freaked out a genuine friend.

We’ve talked since, but we haven’t really talked much since.

I can’t say I blame him because I’ve been on his side of things.  I tend to play the avoidance game, too.  It’s a defense mechanism of sorts.

But that friendship was never really what I thought it was.  Or… it was, but was never going to become what I hoped it would.  Almost expected it would.

Dark, murky pool of crazy.

But here’s the thing.

I don’t regret any of it.

I told myself for quite some time that I was going to play it out and see what happened, and if what I wanted to happen didn’t happen, I was going to seriously put myself out there, maybe even try online dating.

Hell, I’ve seen it work for a number of people lately.  Why not me?

But he floated to the background of my life some months ago now (sometimes it feels like yesterday) and I’ve not once felt compelled to actively search out another idea of a man to fall in love with.

I’ve taken interest in a new boy here or there.  I’ve even gone on a date or two.  In the end, these things fizzle out and I find myself perfectly content without the constant responsibility of having someone like that in my life.

I needed him.  At that point in my life, I needed something distant to focus on, something that wasn’t too real.  He played the role rather nicely, rather flirtatiously, rather conveniently.

The very things that made him incredibly attractive were the same things that made him incredibly unavailable.  I knew that.

I played the game anyway.
A girl can always hope.

I looked up to him.  I lived my life not necessarily to impress him, but to make myself feel worthy of him.  Not that he ever made me feel as though I was unworthy of him.  No… it’s just that I guess he inspired me to new greatness.  I saw so many wonderful things in him and I looked at myself and thought, “Why not me too?”

He was my jumpstarter.

But there came a point where he wasn’t doing that for me anymore, by no fault of his own.  My perceptions were changing, my life was changing, my whole inner being was changing.

I learned how to learn again.
How to be curious again.
How to take control of my own life.
How to seek out happiness.

And though I tried too hard, in the end, it was and is a good thing that he turned me down.

I didn’t need him anymore.
I certainly didn’t need to believe I needed him anymore.

When life got scary, there was a place in my head I escaped to.  It was his city, his couch, and his face smiling back at me.

I still have no idea why that one night affected me the way it did.
Except that maybe it was just supposed to.

He got me through more than he’ll ever know.  If I hadn’t had him, I don’t know who I’d have had or what I’d have done.
Curled up in a ball in the corner for days before loading up my car and driving straight back to Minneapolis, maybe.

But when this imaginary courtship ended, so did my need for one.

And it’s funny now, because I find myself in a place I imagine might be similar to the one he’s in, when it comes to relationships and dating and the opposite sex in general.

Call it selfish, but I’m too busy with me to worry about it.

The time will come, of this I’m sure.  When it does, though, it won’t be because I was desperately, blinding searching through the dark for something I’d never know how to identify in the light.  I’m tired of putting everything on a time line.

This isn’t a business plan.  It’s life.

I still think of him often.  I wish for his happiness.  I hope with all my heart that all that occupies his time finds him genuinely content.
I think and wish and hope these things for most of the boys and men I have ever loved.

Or you know, of whom I loved the idea.

But this one especially… because he led me to my own present state of mind.

And I couldn’t be happier.

8 Comments leave one →
  1. Kendall permalink
    October 5, 2009 10:26 am

    This is fully deserving of a slow-clap. I’ve entertained the thought of online dating but still haven’t been able to convince myself to go ahead and do it. We’ll see what the future brings.

  2. October 5, 2009 12:07 pm

    When I say “I know what you’re talking about” it’s not in the “I identify with this”, it’s the “What you’re talking about — I know it.” ;)

    Vagueness aside, interesting to hear your deeper thoughts on the subject. And good to hear those deeper thoughts are positive ones.

  3. October 5, 2009 9:00 pm

    great post! I think many of us can relate with your feelings. I apologize in advance for reading this again and again and commenting each time. :)

  4. October 6, 2009 1:40 am

    People especially of the opposite sex certainly do have a certain effect if we get to know them in an intimate way. Glad to know you’re happy where you are right now.

  5. October 6, 2009 12:11 pm

    I’m so glad to see this post from you. It makes my heart all happy. I’ve not worked up the nerve to venture into online dating. It just seems like other kinds of online shopping, and I don’t think I can shop for what I’m looking for. I’ve almost just come to the conclusion that when I’m ready, there he’ll be, and it will have the kind of magic that you just can’t order over the interwebz.

    Heard some twitterings about a road trip… you know I’d die of happiness if you showed up at my door. ;)

  6. October 6, 2009 9:57 pm

    I know exactly how you feel. That’s exactly how I feel. Thanks for putting into words what my heart is afraid to say. Great post!

  7. October 7, 2009 7:43 am

    I thoroughly loved this post.

    Oh, if you’re going to Next Big Nashville, see if you can listen to Taxicab Racers. If you like anything dance/techno-ish, you’ll like them. (The frontman, Michael Roddy, is my ex’s older brother.)

  8. October 9, 2009 8:33 am

    oh courtney. how i’ve missed you. how i’ve missed reading your blog DAILY and being able to be CAUGHT UP in your life. not this, oh hey, i have a bunch of time this morning, let’s cram as many blogs down my throat as possible and empty out reader again. even though i’m down to following 6 people i think. yeah, 6. that’s it.

    i’m so happy that you are content where you are, doing what you’re doing. it makes me smile. it really does. and i can say that, unlike nico, i identify with it. because i’m perfectly content with my life right now. and like nico, i also know the story behind the story.

    you are so beautiful. in every single way. and damn, if i’m not a little jealous of the MAN who will eventually snag you someday. and incredibly happy for whoever that will be. because he’s SO lucky.

    i saw your note that you snail mailed to me yesterday. sitting on my coffee table that is overrun by books and notebooks and jews (the purple hearted wandering plant variety) and laundry detergent. and it made me smile. it made me wonder what you were up to. it made me happy.

    i also see audiogeek from time to time. and that makes me think of you too. and makes me miss you. makes me long for the days of sitting in rock/pop admiring your handwriting and our silliness and (strange but completely understandable) love and awe of dr. gwiazda.

    someday. i will come and see you. and it will be glorious. because i feel like i just need to see your face. maybe go to albertville. or harriet island and get lost for a while. either way, it’s with you. i love you, darlin.

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