Friday, January 19, 2007

Oh poo

The last couple of days haven’t been much fun.

Things had been ticking along nicely... I was luxuriating in the promise of the new year and feeling happy and hopeful. I was having fun anticipating seeing Finlay again – things had been building so nicely I thought we just might be on the cusp of something sweet. But other plans got in the way of date #4 – shortly after New Year’s he headed out of town for a week’s holiday. He was due to come back in time to start work again this Monday.

Patience has never been a virtue I know much about. If I want something, I want it NOW. I never would have passed the marshmallow test
as a four year old, and I wouldn’t bet money I’d pass it these days either. So come the start of this week I was itching for us to make plans. But, I didn’t want to be the one to initiate them. What with all the gushing online (which actually I don’t think he’s found, but you never know), and the fact that I’d been the one doing all the contacting recently, I thought it was time to back off and let him start the wheel turning again. Which is when my finely-tuned female premonitory system started kicking into overdrive...

On Monday I thought about how he hadn’t even sent a text from his holiday, which I thought he would have done.

On Tuesday, as I logged onto the site we met through I considered the fact that every time I logged in (once every few days, only to fob off the usual morons that seem to like messaging me), his profile always said he’d been online that day.

On Wednesday I realised that although we’d spoken and had the odd text since New Year’s, it had been me who’d instigated it each time.

Yesterday I just felt horrible, convinced he was going to do a Tim on me and I’d never hear from him again. And I was thoroughly confused too – not sure whether my instincts were right (because hello, who could see that one coming?) or whether I was automatically assuming the worst.

But really, I didn’t think my instinct was wrong.

So it was no surprise this morning when I got a message from him through the site telling me that he’d actually met someone and that he doesn’t want to pursue anything other than friendship.

Oh poo.

In some ways it’s good that I’d had a week of uncertainty and doubt, because I’d already girded my loins for a heavy dose of rejection. If that message had come, say, in the middle of his week out of town, it would have blindsided me.

It still stings though. Rejection is never fun. It’s like that line out of A Knight’s Tale, “you have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting”. I texted Mindy (When is our movie date this weekend? Finlay told me he’s met someone so it’ll be my only date this weekend, boo!) and I got this lovely reply back:

Finlay’s a dick. Any man who doesn’t instantly love you is a fool

Of course, Finlay’s not a dick. He’s still just as smart and funny and as much of a catch as he ever was. That he told me at all shows that he’s decent. But God bless her, I so needed that – I was right in the middle of a bit of a boo-hoo when it came through, and it made me laugh and cry at the same time.

The truth is, if I have one fear that runs deeper than any other (hell, I’m already a little raw – why not expose my deepest fears to boot and lay myself barer still?), it’s the fear that I’m not actually lovable.

I don’t really believe it, but also somehow I don’t not believe it either, if that makes sense. And so external affirmation of my lovableness is always deeply appreciated and has far more impact than any self-affirming thought I could chant to myself 100 times a day in the mirror. (And if ever there was a cry for you, my three faithful readers, to come out of the wings and leave lovely comments for me, sweet Jesus this is it…)

Last night, after too much energy spent on anticipating the worst, on feeling foolish for having felt hopeful, for having gushed to the world about how well things were going and now expecting to have to make a humiliating backtrack, I found comfort in Julia Cameron’s book The Sound of Paper.

Julia writes about the creative process (brilliantly, I might add). But tonight her words spoke to me about the romantic process.

She wrote: When I am in a period of drought, my chief enemy is despair. I am afraid to harbor hope, and yet it is the gentle harboring of hope that is the antidote to dryness of the spirit.

And so, despite this new knockback, I continue the gentle harbouring of hope. And I keep in mind another phrase of Julia’s, a sign that she posts in her writing area, but that I will remember when I return to the dating sites to trawl for men:

Dear God, I will take care of the quantity.
You take care of the quality.


At 19 January 2007 at 8:03 PM, Blogger The Dummy said...

I'm so sorry to hear about Finlay. He must have gotten hit over the head with an Idiot Stick to not see how great you are.

At 20 January 2007 at 5:35 PM, Blogger Katrina said...

And anyway, you have to make room in your life for Brayton.

At 27 January 2007 at 4:14 AM, Blogger MoDigli said...

Oh, now count yourself as having FOUR readers!! :) (I followed you back from the blogwide workout report this week.)

I loved this post - and your blog. You are a great writer. And anyone who references delayed gratification and Julia Cameron is a WAY COOL chick in my book! I'm actually reading The Artist's Way right now and didn't know about that site you linked to! :) Sweeet! More Goodies!

Yeah, it was good of Finley to at least email you and not leave you hanging. That's more than most internet matches do. But if he doesn't see how awesome you are, and what a catch you are - then HE is the one who has been measured, weighed, and "found wanting".

Now, I think I need to go see Babel. I like the effect it had on you. And I like what I've been hearing the director say about it. :)

At 28 January 2007 at 2:57 PM, Anonymous brunette babe said...

Hey MoDigli,

thanks for stopping by! And thank you so much for your lovely words - you really are Irresistably Charming Girl! I can see why DD likes you so much :)


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