First, I want to say that I love my friends. They are supportive and nurturing beyond all imagining. And they are very very funny. While they have been commiserating with me about my breakup, they have also been laughing, heartily, and at length, the moment I say I’m going to take my time recovering. Honor this relationship. Give myself space to process.
“Uh huh,” they say, between choking laughs. “And in a couple of weeks when you are in love again, you’ll reassure us that this time you’ll be taking it slowly. And a couple of weeks after that, we’ll get a text saying that you’re moving in together.”
Douche bags. Of course they’re right. Historically speaking. I do have a tendency to fall in love rather easily. And follow my heart rather blindly. Does that mean what I feel isn’t real? Not at all. It just means my brain doesn’t ever get quite as much control of the situation as it would like. Sometimes that’s problematic. Like now. In the aftermath. During the heartbreak, my brain gets to manage the cleanup, and it’s a little pissy about the whole situation. (“Why listen to me? Why ever pay a bit of attention to my advice? No, just keep at it. Intensity is so much fun! Woo-Hoo. Aren’t we just a screaming, howling joyful pile of tragedy!”)
For a while I was kicking around the whole Maybe I should have some boundaries thing. No dating for 3 months. No moving in for one year. No dating anyone under 30. Blah blah blah. Because it works like that, right? Create some rules, and you’ll never get injured. Build some fence posts and make everyone come through the gate with a golden invitation. Whatever.
If this shit were easy, we’d all be better at it. And here’s the thing. I want so much. I want. And I refuse to be permanently discouraged. She’s out there. She is. And if she’ll give me some time to process, I’ll be ready. To take things slowly. (No laughing.)
4 thoughts on “Rule Book, Volume 1”
You WILL find her!
Go ahead and make the rules…when you find the person for whom you wish to break them, you will. And in the meantime, it makes being single look like the considered decision of a wise soul, rather than the desperate plight of a woman with a few too many cats. (That last bit may be auto-biographical, but you get the message.)
That sounds just like me. A wise soul making a considered decision. (P.S. you’re not a douche bag. I meant my other friends.)