The continuing saga of unavailable guys

Someone help. I lie here and there is a deep-seeded longing coupled with a confusion. Wondering what I really want . . . My ex, my bestest friend in the whole world, I, the “love of his life,” wrote to me a month ago, “stop looking and you will find.” I denied my looking. I knew I longed to meet someone, but I also knew I didn’t want to just meet anyone. I wanted to meet someone who really made me tick. I longed for continuity in my life. Someone to share my inner trappings and musings. Someone that was there as I straddled my disparate lives.  Someone that could have my heart, albeit a sometimes missing presence. Someone that I knew I could be utterly devoted to.

Yet, I fail to see anyone that makes me tick. And my seeking thoughts are comprised of only that. Not searching for someone to spend lonely moments with, or that I just thoroughly enjoy, I want someone that could potentially be the one.  However, I am in no rush. No ticking clock. Just a clock that doesn’t know what to do as it passes time.

The time is passing and as I find myself incapable of exploring great men unless they make my heart leap, my relations are short bouts of great men who are emotionally unavailable. With them, I am not concerned about losing feelings for them and being confronted with having to confront them. I don’t press fast-forward on our future to discover a potential ending of me ripping their heart out and breaking it in two. I acknowledge that they will do the heart breaking, however I am much less concerned with them breaking my heart than me breaking someone else’s.  I can venture into waters and risk someone hurting me, yet I can’t venture and risk hurting someone else. (I assure having my heart broken from someone hurts and perhaps more, but I tend to shut off and throw walls up and all sorts of things. I hermit in my misery. It is awful. However, it doesn’t have it’s day until its due. I let it play out, unlike my inability to give a man who truly adores me a chance.)

I may sound like a martyr, but I assure the above dilemma is borne from a selfish place. As I write this, it becomes clear that I have some great pain with confrontation. I recant the moments of feeling trapped and suffocated–unable to confront and thus prolonging my discomfort. Perhaps, I am so scared of confrontation that the discomfort I have endured in the past haunts me.  And so I doubt that I am so concerned about hurting someone, I am concerned about hurting myself, just in a much less obvious way, perhaps. (I can’t tell you if this in fact true or the life behind my obsession with unavailable men, but for this evening, err morning, it is my theory.)

So to the men in pursuit of me: Matt Damon, MiCarino, Navy Seal, Short Beckham, and Rico Suave, I apologize, but you are killing me. Matt Damon, I believe your amazing email about me is the catalyst of my lonely inactive heart starting to audibly ache. A heart that has been alone and a body that has not had regular service for 18 months!

And yes, I hate the way this post reads. But I needed to write this, for these thoughts would turn friends’ ears deaf. I am so sad. So empty. So lonely. The fact I am adored and liked, yet unable to love back when it’s all I want to do makes me feel like an ice-princess. Not cuddly, not loving. Soulmate made me remember that I am . . . yet his presence in all of this now is too much for me to handle.

I am supposed to see him tomorrow. He wanted to come over tonight. Our bodies drawn to each other. I made other plans. Then, he was to come over after. I failed to write back. My thoughts running rampant from my dinner with two recently single women. Feeling as if I couldn’t listen and be there anymore for them. As if I started to resent them for having great relationships even if the guy turned out to be an assclown.  My thought being, if we are all destined to meet someone at a certain time, the time before is better spent in relationships where great memories were created than single indefinitely. Maybe I am having an Attaingingme Pityparty . . . maybe I sound crazy, and I am, I am crazy sad. 

Are you tall, dark and handsome? Can you be my Mr. Unavailable that is Available . . . I am willing to travel 🙂

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My soul called and yours answered.

Closing off. No anger. No pain. I feel as if I was about to take off on a jet—an adventure awaiting me. No initial awkward dance or introductory period—it seemed to have been covered all within the first hour. That hour putting an end to my resistance, my moral dialogue, my knowledge of the emotional consequences that awaited me only. It was all lost as the sun set Friday night- the sky, a fanciful pink.

In my apartment as I stood pressed against his body, my mind still high from our conversations, my body calmed with pleasure, I looked at his omniscient eyes and felt as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be. As if I just discovered a part of me that was missing. It wasn’t that I pictured a future or felt that I found the one, but I felt as if I found the one “right now.” As if in this moment, our souls fit together like two long lost puzzle pieces. How I didn’t know I much I needed him, but I did.

Now, 4 days later. I feel as I am on the tarmac-watching the jet take off. The whirlwind adventure that could have been, becoming a single memory. Nothing more than a night of wonderful dreams. My desire to see him taking on indifference. I am ok with this. No frustration that normally accompanies liking someone and realizing that it doesn’t have the effortless energy that comes with falling in love or finding the one. Past memories of feeling my heart throbbing for no good reason over someone that could have been, but never was.  Now though, my heart still completely intact.

However, I can recognize that I cannot recall a time when I felt my soul found a match until now. I once met a man I felt I was going to or could marry. But Rediscoveryme makes me realize that my soul just found something it never has. I cannot help but read and think of him. Imagine excursions. My mind noting our conversation. Everything seems to remind me of him. How can one night form such a basis? How can a few hours of conversation touch me in so many ways?