Currents

There is so much noise, it is silent. My mind is blank or is it everywhere? Currents of thoughts against a sea of nothing. Perhaps I am lost in the many days that pass. The sun’s risings each morning are becoming a blur and I, am no longer capturing them.

A return to dormant behaviors. And a necessary selfishness for those behaviors threaten me of drowning. The priority merely keeping afloat, functioning. My thoughts pass between men, my empty bank account, the proper solution, career, foundation, dreams and the few things that actually matter in life’s larger scheme … The issues conflicting and my mind, awash.

For simplicity, I will update “men” as this blog is chapters in and chapters behind.

Thoughts of S are fewer and farther between. I note that my thoughts have lingered longer than we were together. How amazing to be affected so much by somone with whom we were never an us. He told me three weeks ago that he was back with his ex. Glowing as he ran on the treadmill, he felt more connected to her than he has ever felt with anyone. A dagger in my heart. Although, jealousy escapes me. I am happy for him should his words be true. Caught actions since make me question those words, or perhaps, all men.

The impulsive gentlemen weighs on me. His words, “You are not ready for a relationship. You need a friend. I fear that in only wanting to make you happy, I have made you unhappier.” His words are true. The supposed pressure is gone, but with each invite, each told bottle of wine, and cooked meal I refuse, I cringe.
The lingering gentlemen, the love, his disappointment, it all pains me. To go through each day alone and have someone thinking of you every moment, who would give anything to be that companion you long for …

In recent days, words from ghosts pass fill my email box, KidRobot, Matt Damon. My signifcance hurts me.

I feel as I am surrounded by an impenetrable circle. My world is just me. The orbiting worlds breathe me, dream me while I can only breathe thoughts indistinct.

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Love and lust. An exploration continues.

I hesitate to write for I wish I could pen a fairytale. This does have the makings, but I pulse the brakes. Create a million stops, hoping I will catch up–but so many miles lie between your emotions and mine.

. . . I am not sure what it is I have learned, but I am learning. Every night he asks me the same thing, and my response remains. “It’s a possibility.”

It is too soon. And that he knows. What if I said yes– that I would marry him. What then? I would wear a ring and he would gain some sense of being able to maintain the happiness that has permeated his life?

Falling in love is a cathexis and if ever, this is one to note.  His words echo mine of S. And I realize that the act of falling in love, the lust, is much about feeling one with the other. Feeling complete, a superior you. He has changed at work and has closed a deal a day since we met. He stands taller. He wakes up earlier. Healthier. He feels like a better person. Effortless. High.. Genuine. This cathexis. This falling in love. I am the most important thing to hm. The feelings so deeply felt they need not be questioned, he wants to marry me, and would tomorrow.
My life is full of my passions and many of which are his, albeit dormant. And I suspect that when you meet someone who brings you closer to your own values, your own desired self, the feeling of love pervades.

I am the most important thing in his life right now and I feel it every moment, so much so. It is painful. This week was spent sharing time with friends, mine and his. We shared an evening with my colleague, T, the one person who is akin to family, the person who I believe my path thus far was intended to meet.

He had just arrived from a long five day love affair, although the lover is in New York, a relationship unfeasible, but it was a weekend of intimacy and passion at its best. We spoke about how difficult it was and the Impulsive Gentleman interjected, “That’s how I feel but there is no water in between. Every night I go to bed and I long for her (me) and she is within a drive’s reach, but I can’t see her.” The pain of which this was said was incredible..

I am continuing the process of getting to know him. I love the time we spend together, but it is not lust, not close. I laugh and find myself at ease. a slowly growing love. With his heels over his head, everyday is me pressing the brakes. Everyday is a mix of suffocating and enjoying. I find it curious. This gradual accumulation of feelings, my antiquated belief was in instantaneous.

His only goal is to make me the happiest woman for the rest of his life. He is patient and lacks frustration. This I admire, but I am mixed with doubt and concern that I don’t crave him enough ….

We will see. For now I unpack the dozen roses I just received,

Missed connections

I saw you as I left the gym last night. You were on the phone and nodded to me and kissed me on the cheek as if we were acquaintances. My intuition sensed a wall and one not of a man trying to create a distance. Perhaps, my ego chose what I sensed, but it seemed as if you care, as if you couldn’t bear to look at me. I told you the story of the ring two nights ago. My honest feelings regarding the new man. For you are a true friend now, right?

When I told you, you thought I was dating someone at the gym. It explained so much . . .  Many of your misperceptions regarding me were corrected. And I think your heart longed. But, then you told me you were looking to switch jobs. And I know that means, bigger and better. Europe, New York, anywhere. PR is no longer the answer for you. You will leave. And you have no ties to anything. And it will remain as such. And I believe we still both care. That we both have lingering feelings. But they will remain, lingering. 

My heart will always remember you. The instant attraction I felt, the respect. But, our paths will not form one. Mere interceptions. Friendships. Business. Nothing else. Of that, I am becoming more sure. ]

I am becoming more drawn to the man who is emotionally available- the Impulsive Gentlemen. I am reevaluating my desired partner. And while my feelings are addictive-like in their nature to you- they will end there.

I found this. I wrote it 2 weeks after we started seeing each other> I woke up at 6am. And I almost left your apartment without a goodbye. I wrote this instead. It echoes that of which was our end . . 

 

 

“I apologize for my departure. I leave and I contemplate shutting the door and never reopening it. For the first time, I do this despite my attraction, to all facets of you, remains unchanged.

And you, you do everything that qualifies as a man pursuing and engaged. Daily phone calls, allowances, and shifts of priorities (with I winning) late night convos, undivided attention 

Perhaps my senses have identified something missing. I just wonder if it from you or I? Perhaps, I don’t feel you like me and am failing to see those eyes that say such. Well, really like. I am not so insecure that I question your actions. I do know you care. But I also know between us lies a great divide. Maybe I am just too out of practice, maybe too vulnerable to play this game in the unknown. Perhaps I need too much assurance. Need to see you fall. Perhpas, I am too used to seeing people fall.
I believe in efforetless. And my mind recalls your eyes in each time I would start to speak. Sitting across the dining room working on our respective computers, with each opening word, however silly, you would turn off the music and just listen. Your eyes piercing me 

I honestly have no idea what I am feeling. Perhaps it is fight or flight. Perhaps I . . . 
I am at a loss. Unzipped. I say too much. Too soon. I want to retract. I suppose I still feel tested.. We are sleeping together now, but deep down I feel I failed. I don’t enjoy this scrutiny and while you are a man I would be proud to call mine and while you are someone who could potentially be the             , I go now.

I close the door and I realize perhaps this is the natural dynamic of man and woman. As much as you r straightforward, not playing games, my subconscious is engaging me to be hunted. For isn’t this the true bait ..

Whatever. X”

This is not fiction. “Engaged” or in spanish, “Comprometido”

It was Friday. I agreed to lunch with the Impulsive Gentlemen. He showed up at my office, dapper as always. We go to the Parisian Bistro (yes, in Puerto Rico). He orders a bottle of wine to which I agreed to one glass. We joke, laugh and enjoy our meal. Before I rush back to the office, he questions, “Will you marry me?”

My lips form a smile and my eyes pierce his. “It’s a possibility.”

The spontaneous trip was only a week ago, the first time I had seen him outside of social settings or meetings. And honestly, I still am deciding whether I am ready to date him. This lunch is our first reunion since our trip to BVI.

And this marriage talk, is surely just a joke.

“We must have forgotten our wedding rings at home”

I joke back,”I will start putting a ring of sunsceen around my finger so atleast I have a tan line.”

Our kids will be named Stephan Andre (insert fancy royal sounding last name here) and Andrea Stephania. I simply smile.

———————————-

“What dress will you wear tonight?” (We are going to the Phanton of the Opera.)

He is to pick me up at 7pm. At 6:40, I text him

“Navy blue.”

“What is it like?”

“Backless, halter, long.”

7:00 He is in the courtyard leaning against the bricks. Waiting as I descend. He opens my car door and I get into the Black SUV. He enters the drivers side and hands me a beautiful green box. I open it to find an amazing silver bullet clad with little diamonds and long silver earrings. He reaches over and carefully puts each long silver earring in my ear and secures the stunning silver diamond bullet around my neck. I catch my reflexion and I am in awe at myself. I notice the audience from outside. He turns the ignition on, turns to me and says, “One more thing . . ”

He hands me a ring- a canary diamond with diamonds on the side. White gold. It fits like a glove.

I thought it was a joke. A mother’s ring, or fake, or something from somewhere. But then, he later mentioned he bought another one. “I would marry you tomorrow.” White diamond and gold. So I can match it with what I am wearing . . .

“Compromised,” he says. Words being lost in translation. I think, how appropriate. Yes, I am most definitely compromised.

Just bring your passport. -the stranger.

I wonder what it is. I note a difference-one that transcends the now that is relevant.

A perfect weekend. My thoughts drifted to S but not without relief. A heart wasn’t pained, just pensive. This weekend isnt what I expected. A man who I have never before dated spontaneously invited me to the British Virgin Islands. Hours later we were in flight. I welcomed the adventure and the departure from thinking about S.

Now truly “what next?” is something I wonder- I am not sure. I am apprehensive. Commitphobic. I can continue and will, but without pressure, without being bound. As long as I can see where this goes before it involves rules. I now wear S’s shoes. I am the one that doesn’t want the tethers of a relationship with this new man.

 

virgingorda

I sit writing watching pelicans nosedive into brilliantly clear water. My toes crinkle the fine sand that engulfs them. It is Monday morning. He is in the room sleeping. We are in a famed romantic hotel on the the most amazing unspoiled island. This place secluded and exclusive. A truly special hotel. The spa perced on the mountain offered a blissful Sunday.

I feel extremely comfortable with this man, and more importantly, I am happy. But I question what home will bring. Could this be a relationship? I am not yet ready. With S, I never questioned. However, it was not effortless. The process was vulnerable. I believe we didn’t trust eachother, trust a future us.

The new relationship is intimate without pretense, comfort. But, how could it not be? A business lunch with a casual last minute invitation to an island I knew nothing of. Hours later I filled out one custom form per his deciding we were “married.” The holding hands and “dear” to play the part, soon became the norm. He kissed me later and every hour since has been as if this is the way it has always been. Him and I.

But I think of S. I think of my desire to not publicize this and be bound. And I think of the strangers’ comments on Friday just hours before I came to BVI. I spoke briefly of S and she noted how much he meant to me. How I changed when I said his name. How he clearly struck a chord with me and is in my heart. How right she was and is. I recall his words and take them for face value. “Take care Smith.” We have spoken regularly since. I question if it is out of courtesy. I desire to see him and say something. I am not ready to let my almost go and his actions tell me perhaps nor is he.

But a man would reverse an end not meant. I need to see him and close the door, to know if it is open for I return now, “married” in an effortless romance to whom I deem, the Impulsive Gentleman.