Finding The One

A friend once commented “I like it when you’re honest”.  I don’t specifically remember the post, but I’ve never forgotten the comment.  I find myself editing this thing too much lately…I want it to sound a certain way, and sometime in doing so, I sorta lose the message or the reason I wanted to write in the first place.  Many years ago my brother told me that “I write like I talk”, which was meant as a compliment.  Those that know me in real life know that I don’t edit many of the things I say…I used to, but found out if you don’t speak up or speak your mind, you get what’s coming to you, good or bad. I’m not going to edit this one, I’m just going to listen the voice in my head and type what he speaks…..well, I’ve started and stopped 3 times because at one point the little voice said, “that’s not what I’m telling you to say. Stop being a pansy and write what I tell you!”  This is the fourth and last attempt.  If it stops mid sentence, you’ll know the little voice said what it came to say.

I don’t want to date.  I don’t want to go to bars or church or the store or wherever it is people go to find someone. I want that person to just appear one day at the right time and the right place.  I’m tired of getting into something only to realize “well shit, here we go again”. I’m tired of going again, of starting from scratch, but doing it all the same yet again.  I quit online dating because it was the same shit every time….wink, email, email, email, phone calls, meet, email, nothing. Then it starts again.  Funny thing is the last time I remember thinking “step 1, done. Now on to step 2”. I got sick of the steps, I got sick of the emails, I got sick of all the bullshit that went on.  Are you or aren’t you the person in the picture?  Are you or aren’t you interested? What do you mean your kids are 13 and 15 and can’t behave in a restaurant? No, I don’t fucking like country music. Tired. Of. All. Of. That.

Several years ago, I thought I’d found the one. The end of looking, the end of being just me, the end of being the third in a party of two.  It was the most intense relationship I’ve ever had, both good and bad. It was in a lot of ways the measuring stick I used going forward when she turned out not to be the one. In a lot of ways it showed me what I’d been missing for so many years, the goosebumps when she touched me, finding myself thinking of her constantly, the sheer unadulterated joy when I was with her, and thinking that I was the luckiest guy in the world.  And since this is the honesty hour, the fact that I don’t ever remember loving someone as much as I loved her.

It’s at those times in your life when you think you’re bullet proof and nothing in the world can hurt you. But the sad fact, Dear Reader, is that’s also the time when you’re most vulnerable to things that can and will hurt you. In the 3 or 4 years since this ended, I’ve never really let anyone know how much it hurt when it did end. Truth is, it hurt worse than my divorce. I was ready for my marriage to be over.  I wasn’t ready for this to be over. Funny thing is, whether I was ready or not, I knew it would. Call it being pessimistic, call it a lack of confidence, call it whatever the fuck you want, but way, way down deep, even though I didn’t ever want it to end, I knew it would. And it did. And it freaking hurt.  But, Dear Reader, life moves on and so has she.

But here’s the kicker friends. Here’s the point in the show where the Master of Ceremonies gets real quiet so you have to strain to hear his voice. It’s where he speaks in hushed, heavy tones to convey to you the seriousness of the situation, the raison d’etre of the whole production, the “reason for existence”.  Here is where all the truths come together, and the truth is…I want that again. I want those feelings again.  I want that electric buzz in the belly feeling of anticipation, of sitting on the couch waiting for her to get home. The “miss her when she’s gone and can’t wait for her to get home feeling” that my Dad has for my Stepmom.  I want to know that those feelings are mutual, that there is someone out there who looks forward to me coming home too.  The heart-stopping realization that this is the person God has chosen for you.

It’s something that I want, Dear Reader, but it’s also something I’ve no idea how to find…