Tag Archives: unrequited love

(not) finding Mr. Right.

lovelocked

I’ve fallen in love with someone who is not available.

“Loving someone is not painful. It’s when we must stop loving someone and withdraw our affection that we feel pain.”  ~ Barbara DeAngelis

I just had lunch with a man from a dating website. Yes, I’m back on a dating website.

Please don’t judge me. Mostly I got back on a site because I need to be distracted—pleasantly and permanently.

Despite my best efforts (okay, so some of my efforts may have been half-assed. I am human. Because love is love, for fuck’s sake and it feels sublime even when it’s also total agony, right?) to not allow my heart that liberty, I have fallen in love with a man I can’t have.

I didn’t try to fall in love with him; in fact, I felt that instant attraction thing upon meeting him months ago and tried to avoid falling in love with him. But it happened.

This feeds back into the perpetual argument I have with myself: Can one control one’s own heart? One can control one’s thoughts, but the heart?

The jury’s still out.

And, I’m pretty sure it’s time to stop whining about it, put on my big girl pants, saddle up and ride respectfully right on past him and the enticing speculations of what that would be like, into the next town over—called Distraction—to hopefully be quickly followed by a day-trip into the small village of Love (with someone else).

This necessary plan depresses me in its contemplation and my heart grows heavy, gray and sluggish at the injury of the thought. If I think about it too much, I start to lose my resolve.

I desire, though, to be so very carefully respectful—to everyone involved—including me.

I have good days and bad days with this situation. Sometimes I know what I have to do; other days I think about it too much and get sucked down by the undertow of emotions.

Most days, I feel like an idiot that I’ve somehow allowed myself to be in this predicament.

I’m already suffering, but will remaining friends or cutting all contact cause less suffering? Mostly, as you probably notice, I can easily get on the proverbial fence about this.

I love him enough that I want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. I love him enough that I feel it would be unfair and too disruptive of me to say anything to him about it. Does this make me brave or just a chickenshit? Perhaps just pathetic. I’m not sure—nor does it matter.

This distraction plan may or may not work. I have tried it more than once before, and it has only been marginally successful. Some of my past attempts have inversely highlighted what/who I genuinely wanted instead of distracting me.

After one such attempt, I ended up sad and crying to my friend Liz after a perfectly wonderful kiss goodnight from a really hot man, only because the kiss was not from the man I was wildly attracted to (read: soul mate material) and who said he was not ready for a relationship.

And then there was the big, costly (on all fronts) distraction of me getting married at 38 because I felt I was old and ugly and it might be my last chance for a relationship, to be happy and to not be alone.

Oh, I loved him—but I knew, on some level, that I was settling because I was afraid of being old and alone. I saw him and that marriage as my last chance for happiness. Which is a theory I have proven incorrect since our divorce years ago, but I truly did believe it at the time.

My lunch date was a nice man. He was masculine, directed and full of purpose—all of this was obvious to me, and I liked these things about him. He held the door for me, pulled out my chair; he was a gentleman. We had a very nice conversation.

I wasn’t attracted to him, but I didn’t let that stop me from appreciating him and our conversation.

So at the end of our lunch date, he asked if I would like to get together again sometime; I could tell he was thinking I would say no. But because I wanted to give him—a very decent, acceptable man—a chance, I quite honestly said yes.

And I meant it.

I said yes because I am tired of waiting for Mr. Right.

I am tired of my own ideas of who/what that should be (hint: some weird, interesting mix of Cullen Bohannon, Walt Longmire, David Deida and Tom Hanks, I think—like a good chocolate: hard and crunchy on the outside, soft and gooey and a little nutty on the inside once you bite ‘em).

I wanted to give a decent, nice man a try. I’m tired of being ruled by my heart, and/or my increasingly lonely lady parts. I want to make good decisions—with my head.

Which is in the exact opposite direction from the feminine energy I have been cultivating, by the way, too, seeing as feminine energy is all about the heart, body and emotions.

I noticed as I began to pedal away from the restaurant, that I felt extremely sad and kind of hopeless. So with a respectful nod in the direction of the Divine Feminine, my heart and all things emotional—and with no small amount of dread—I turned to face the emotions waiting their turn and told them to bring it.

I was on my bike, so I had plenty of time to suss it out, and the longer I pedaled, the sadder I became. But I stayed with it, sitting with myself the same way I would sit with a girlfriend in this state, and allowed each emotion to present its case.

After many layers had peeled off, I finally felt an intense, deep, aching loss at the thought of giving up what I really need and want in trade for a “safe bet” again.

Crying, pedaling down Mountain Avenue, I could feel the edge I need in a man to keep me interested and attracted, and the lunch man was just not close enough to that edge. He felt so far away from what I need and want.

I knew, though, that it had nothing to do with him. He was still a very nice man. However, it had everything to do with already being in love with someone who, if he’s not Mr. Right, is pretty gawd damned close.

How is it I can have that Mr. Right feeling with someone not available to me? Shouldn’t his lack of availability, recuse him on some big, cosmic level—take him out of consideration?

I’m thinking this should be, like, a law or something, right? A Federal Statute. Or fuck that; let’s make it a Universal Law.

I think it’d make life much easier.

 

Originally published at elephant journal as I’ve Fallen in Love with a Man I Can’t Have.

Grace is a Certified Hypnotherapist and Registered Psychotherapist in Ft. Collins, CO, USA. She sees clients and facilitates Divine gracethanx2013.3Feminine Hypnotherapy workshops for women. She’s a flaming, Earth-loving, tree-hugging, save-the-Planet, believes-in-faeries, bike-riding, card-carrying, spiritual but not religious, hippie cowgirl liberal poet—yep, they do exist. She writes for The Scarlet Orchid and elephant journal. You can find her blog here and her creations here. You can also connect with her on Facebook and Twitter.

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everyday karma at Everyday Joe’s Coffee House

Also published at elephant journal as The Karma Cafe

I continue to listen to him, but mostly I am just letting his voice soothe me.

We talk, and I watch him from across the table—but mostly I feel the energy coming off him, out of him. I know him as a very authentic person—have known him for some time now. He is calm and not about the drama, but the more he talks, the more I can feel the slow, small everydayjoes1twist of the hurricane he carries inside his chest. And I am so glad not to be a part of that, selfishly glad not to be in his shoes. I can hear those waves crashing from all the way over here on my side of the table. When he speaks, I love the heavy, watery weight of his voice, his laugh even more so: deep and gravely and calm. I ride the waves of his voice, and willingly let that undertow pull me down and under. From somewhere deep inside of myself, I sit and listen.

He talks of the books he’s read to help explain his situation. He thinks he must somehow ‘ride it out,’ ‘see what lies beyond this,’ ‘pass this test.’ He keeps pulling all those platitude cards out of his deck and placing them on the table; he talks a nice talk.

Maybe it helps him—him thinking he is actually accomplishing something. I can feel him wanting to stay in integrity, wanting to do not only what is correct but also what is right. But it spins slowly, and as I move away from the eye of his hurricane, it begins to get sloppy. This place of heaviness is home to him now. I can sense the thick brownness of it, how it feels congested, unhappy and weighty and sad. Still, he is calm. I can also feel the uncertainty there that has become his certainty. This is his way of living now, but I know it has not always been so. He has let it become his obligation, his world. karma1

I don’t feel sorry for him; he has choices, and he decided somewhere along the way to take this on. Mostly, it feels heavy. It feels like a burden he picked up or that maybe built up slowly over time. And now he doesn’t quite know how to put it down, doesn’t know if he wants to. It might seem unnatural to be without it now. I feel, behind his words, a question; he’s wondering if there is a resolution, a completion to be peacefully navigated.

It feels a bit surreal and out of sync—like that dream that wakes you before the end. And you wonder if that was the dream or if, like an unfinished movie, it is continuing to play somewhere and you just woke up too soon—before the end.

beancycle4Karma is like that. I burn mine until it’s gone, but there seldom seems to be a real conclusion. I’m always waiting for the cosmic credits to roll, to clue me that it’s over. I don’t recognize the end because I’m usually too busy wondering what happened. Where did I go wrong this time? My mind stumbles around, shell-shocked, glassy-eyed, mumbling to itself, trying to find solid ground again. But nothing ever really can go ‘wrong’. It goes according to the karmic plan. That’s how karma works.

My karma is like low-budget, artistic, independent foreign films that end abruptly and weirdly, leaving a strange, unsettled taste in my mind’s mouth.

So I continue to listen to him, but mostly I am just letting his voice cradle and soothe me. At 1stphone2one point he asks for my advice, and I reluctantly bring my mind back to the table, pause too long for social propriety (because I don’t know quite what to say), and finally try this, calmly:  “I cannot give you an unbiased opinion …” At which pause, and with perfect comedic timing, he interrupts and says, “I don’t want your unbiased opinion. I want you to be on my side!”

We laugh a few bars, and in some back room of my mind, I use those precious seconds to scrape together the cokarma7urage to start again, “I can’t give you an unbiased opinion on what to do with your insecure, controlling girlfriend, who is making you very unhappy, because … I am too attracted to you.”

And everything stops.

And we stare at each other.

Across the table.

Over the coffee cups.

His eyes become watery—and with that, mine want to also, so I let them. “Me too,” he says.

Careful, this is what happens, Mr. MW, when you know/love a writer. 🙂

falling through ice

You WANT too much, you say from behind an angry mouth, like it’s a sin,
like it would be way too horrible for you to begin
to find the same inside yourself, and meet me
somewhere out here on this ice – ice that’s grown so very thin.

So it sits here within me so hard and tight,
bumping around in there – bruising and hurting –
this pain, this longing, this knife
of passion that cutscutscuts me into tiny little slices
of head thrown back, lips parted.

We could slide right down into each other, just like
Krishna and Rada deep in that dark, warm, garden, diving
through Krishna’s ink blue night
on the stars and planets that swirl up and out of sight
and out into the Universe every time Rada tosses back her long, dark hair…

And now you’re telling me not to go,
because I’m breaking sacred promises
and shouting that you don’t know
how you’re gonna live without me once I’m gone – when I’ve thrown
away what we could have become.

But you had chance after chance to prove your love to me.
And now I know that two persons can be lonelier than one.
I waited for years with hope and then not quite so patiently
for something – anything – that would never come.
You threw us away long ago – fragile ice finally giving in.

So it sits here within me so hard and tight,
bumping around in there – bruising and hurting –
this pain, this longing, this knife
of passion that cutscutscuts me into tiny little slices
of head thrown back, lips parted.

We could have slid right down into each other, just like
Krishna and Rada deep in that dark, warm, garden, diving
through Krishna’s ink blue night
on the stars and planets that swirl up and out of sight
and out into the Bigness every time Rada tosses back her long, dark hair…

I would have explored with you the ancient, sacred mysteries of this mangodwoman art,
because I loved you like I love the moon in her dark,
secret blanket of stars,
Like I love the sun, burning away the chaff to our heart of hearts –
sanguine, heavy and warm.

But you wouldn’t dance with me inside this sweet
holy rain that can fill the heart and soul,
wouldn’t allow that constant simmer on the back burner that melts icy tears
into a warm liquid flow,
wouldn’t trust the Angels to fly us up and out and into the Both, the One, the Whole.

So it sits here within me so hard and tight,
bumping around in there – bruising and hurting –
this pain, this longing, this knife
of passion that cutscutscuts me into tiny little slices
of head thrown back, lips parted.

We could have slid right down into each other, just like
Krishna and Rada deep in that dark, warm, garden, diving
through Krishna’s ink blue night
on the stars and planets that swirl up and out of sight
and out into the Whole every time Rada tosses back her long, dark hair…

missing you

I didn’t want to fall in love with you. And in fact, I may just have a crush on you, b/c how can I really love you if I don’t really know you? It has been against all my good intentions that I fallen for you. I have been trying to ignore you. Then I tried to distract myself with someone, anyone, else. It has not worked.

I can feel all those other women, those groupies, waiting for you to notice them. I don’t want to be just another one of your groupies. I don’t want to just be waiting there in line with all of them. I can feel and see that metaphorical line – have always felt/seen it.

And you are very busy in your life, always traveling or taking a workshop – always going somewhere. I never go anywhere. I love my home and my life. It seems obvious to me that your passion is NOT a relationship – with me or anyone else. I feel so pathetic to have added myself to your line of women groupies.

Still, I want you to choose me over all those other groupies. I want you to pick me from out of the line, to come back and take my hand and bring me to the head of the queue and ask me to dance.  I want you to tell me I am different from all those other women in your groupie line. I want to be different from them. Sometimes I think I should do something so outrageous and daring that you will have to notice how unique I am. But I can only be myself; that’s all I’m really good at.