I did something bad 8 years ago… give or take. I ghosted an absolutely wonderful guy named Andy. He was gorgeous, sweet and made me feel…safe? Seen? And obviously, not believing that that was at all possible, instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop, I scrambled out of there, knowing I would regret it. But he didn’t call me back… and I took that to be proof that I was right, that I had avoided the inevitable heartbreak. Yaay me.
I’ve never forgotten that moment that made me terrified. You
know that song “What did the fox say?” It’s an insane, ridiculous bop that appealed
very deeply to my chaotic soul. Andy played it for me one day. I walked into
his home, a bit out of sorts anyway, and he said “I have to show you something.”
And he took me to his bedroom and played this song. I watched it in total
confusion-changing-to-amazement as he stared at my face.
Now, to be clear, songs have been played to me before. I
have been serenaded from rooftops, I have been mix-taped to within an inch of
my life, I have been tik-tocked to kingdom come. But most of those songs have
been love songs. They have been the “more than words”, the “blowers daughter”,
the “why couldn’t we be friends”, etc. But that evening, as Andy watched me
watch the song, I felt that I had inadvertently left a window open to my brain that
let him see the lateral convoluted internal combustion vat of day-dreaming fumes that ran on freaky
laughs – and he gave me fuel to run it.
I can’t even explain the fear. I call it the “Blood and
Cinnamon Everywhere” syndrome. Without going into specifics, it references a
macabre story of a man who died – and it was hilarious. More fuel for the
chaotic brain and when another boy had shared that with me, I had taken it to
mean that he really got me. That it wasn’t just a fluke, that he really saw me.
And once you see me, how can you leave, right? But he did and many years later,
I didn’t want the cute fox with language problems to say goodbye. So instead, I walked out. I regretted
it almost immediately but I just couldn’t find the courage to go back and
explain my vulnerabilities.
Many years later, Andy and I reconnected on social media. It
was a birthday message and then a what’s up message and then congratulatory
message and then a covid message and then other messages. They were kind, and
playful and finally I gathered my courage and apologised for my shitty behavior
so many years ago. It was text, I didn’t look at his face and he didn’t see my
remorse. But he accepted it with “Don’t worry, we have all been weird with
people before. It’s okay, I only remember the good times.” That sounds like a
goodbye, right? Like closure? It sounds like “Thank you but you’re not welcome
back”, right? That’s what I thought. And it sucks! SUCKS SO MUCH because I want
another do-over.
Anyway, about 6 weeks ago, after months of denial and procrastination, I asked him out. It was albeit after two whiskey shots in the privacy of
my home while talking to my girlfriend who offered more courage by saying “If
it goes to shit, you never have to see him again.” And in the 10 seconds it
took him to text back, I had already gone through my spiral of dark despair leading
to belligerent threats of killing that friend who forced me to text under
the influence. But when he replied, those threats turned to songs of loyalty
and forever friendship, especially because he said he’d love to get a drink
once back in town in a few weeks.
It's now been more than a few weeks. And he's been in town for a while. He hasn’t called. And I’ve devolved into a
teenager who’s putting every text we have ever shared through the increasingly unscientific but obscure litmus scrutiny of analysis by friends to come to the
conclusion of “Did he forget or is he just politely letting me down or is he
just not that into me anymore or was it always a nothing or...” Yep, it’s not pretty and no amount of
reminding me that I’m a grown up is going to change my winning strategy of overthinking
and playing out increasingly depressing but non-existent scenarios. Or writing a blog post. Or basically
anything except reaching out again with a more serious and vulnerable and heart-on-my-sleeve invitation.
Why? Because I can’t imagine any winning combination of words that someone who left me could possibly say to me that would make me seriously consider letting them back in my life so many years later. And if I won't allow that disruption, how can I expect someone else to allow it either? I think about Andy’s life, about the people populating his world (as seen while clumsily browsing his social media) and the affection he gets from everyone and I find myself wondering “Would I be able to offer that consistently? Does he deserve an ex saying the "right" things to be welcomed back into his life only to discover that it wasn’t him she wanted but just SOMEone to scratch an itch?” After all, if you're trying to reenter a life you'd abandoned quite awfully, isn't the only meaningful reassurance you can genuinely offer is that you won't repeat your behavior and instead try to make up for the damage?
Eight years ago, we dated for just a few weeks. And while it was enough to make me trigger-jump ship, it really wasn’t enough to get to know him, even with all the momentum and excitement. But it was today, when I found myself checking out an astrology website for romantic compatibility that it hit me - what I want is reliable data! Because despite years, weeks and months of therapy and solitude later, I have to say I’m no closer to really knowing if what I want resides within a relationship with him (or anyone specific), or if he's just an attractive mental distraction from my large piles of work, and just how many of my walls - his and mine - I’m going to have to bring down to get the information needed to make that decision.
Like another cute fox (synchronicity!) says in The Little Prince, "One only understands the things one tames. If you tame me then to me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world. I shall know the sound of your step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow...and we shall need each other... You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed...."
Basically, it's only after going out with Andy and feeling the feelings and encouraging his attachment will I discover if I want to go out with him, feel the feelings and take responsibility for the attachment.
The possible carnage of dating seems completely
antithetical for mental peace and emotional health, no?
