Tag Archives: openness

A New Year Footnote

11 Jan

StillSingle still thinks that the travails of singleness are worthy of report. To that end, I need to say a little more about Bronxman–if only to spare you the tumultuousness that I have endured…

The whole thing started with him being uncharacteristically open about how he liked me and thought we could have the love of a lifetime.

After our multi-hour conversation, I pondered. “Who is this open and honest person and what has he done with Bronxman?” “How can I seriously consider a man who I am not able to really talk to?” “Is he changing, and if so, I like the new him so why not give him a chance?” “What about the issues I’ve run into with him??” He texted me twice during this stage, “I’m thinking of you and miss you,” and like that. I felt uncomfortable. It was too much.  We weren’t at that place. I didn’t respond. He called and my end of the conversation was stilted.

While pondering I also consulted my people. R said, “He sounds too old.” K said, “StillSingle you have issues too you know. Give him a chance!” P said, “Maybe this is a chance for you to help him grow and vice versa. Go out. Get to know him better. That’s all there is to do at this point.” P’s advice was just right. I thought to myself, I will take measured steps towards and be open to loving this man…

Having decided, I called him, saying (after the pleasantries), “I’ve been feeling all this angst and weirdness about you–which is totally unwarranted. I’m sorry if I’ve been acting strange. I think it would help me if we talked about our expectations at this point.” Or something like that.

He says–I have no expectations. I’ve always been a man who set my sights low and then maybe gets pleasantly surprised.

I say–I’m not like that. I typically shoot for the moon.

He says–You must spend a lot of time being disappointed.

I say–Yes, there’s a lot of disappointment. But sometimes I actually reach the moon and that feeling makes it worth it to keep aiming high.

He says (in a rather abrupt and energized shift)—

I am withdrawing my interest in you.

You are not ready for a relationship. I refuse to have my self-esteem damaged.

You are a game player. (Me, gently–for example?) I can’t think of any examples right now.

You distrust me.

You may have trust issues with all men, I don’t know because

You are secretive, you keep your past a secret from me.

You are punishing me for things others did to you. (Me, gently–for example?) I can’t tell you an example off the top of my head. 

You need to consider your ways, etc., etc., etc.

He continued–But don’t take all this to mean that I don’t like you because I really, really do.

It was bizarre. My family had come around so I told him we would talk this through later.

I felt misunderstood and maligned. I felt battered by his words, and wondered if I had brought on that onslaught.  I thought, what did I do?  How did I hurt him?  Maybe I should apologize to him?   I wanted him to be nice to me again.  I wanted the unblemished possiblity of love back.  Then somewhere a voice screamed at me: abused wives tend to take the blame too!  I snapped out of it and realized that the problem was not mine.

Bronxman was busy later that night. The next night he talked to me as if nothing had happened. The following night he began his “all is well” conversation. I interrupted and told him that I would like to address that other conversation. He was reluctant. I pressed on and told him that the way he spoke to me and some of the things he said were hurtful. He responded as if by rote, “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”  He then had to go but offered that I could call him tomorrow if I wanted to talk to him more about it.

I have not called. Nor has he.


Holiday Cheer?

15 Dec

The first week of November, after the election, hope had the audacity to rumble through my world like an earthquake, shaking everything up.

The second week of November I traveled to visit relatives.  My long time friend, and number one draft pick to marry, (and ex), lives twenty minutes from my relatives.  I debated letting him know I was in town–a) because I need to move on already, it’s been years; b) because back in June I promised myself that I would not call him, at least until the end of the year, because I need to move on already; and c) because if he cared at all he would call me, or email, or something, and he doesn’t.  I finally decided to split the baby and text him.  If he wanted to see me while I was in town, great.  If not, no biggie; my weekend was packed with family stuff anyway.

He did want to see me.  I invited him to meet my relatives and me at church.  After church he gave me a ride back to their house.  Then he stayed (without a hint of a suggestion from me).  He left when I left to return home.  He’d spent the entire afternoon in my aunt’s kitchen talking and laughing. 

Elation thy name is, I mean thy initials are, WB.   The time that he gave me felt loving.  And just knowing that he still has some kind of love for me, even if it’s not the go-to-Tiffany’s-today-and-buy-a-ring kind of love, comforted a part of my heart and helped me to let go of the idea of him just a little bit.

The following weekend I went to my friend’s baby shower.  At the shower I made a new friend, Pamela.  Pamela is Called to Singleness (more later).   She and I shared a solemn and prophetic moment at the shower that culminated with her looking me in the eye and saying to me, “You are getting married.”

Elation thy prophet is Pamela.  In the days that followed, one thought headlined all others in my  mind, “Who is he, Lord?  Who will I marry?”

The last weekend of November, six days after I met Pamela, Bronxman blindsided me by declaring to me, “We could have an epic love if only you would give us a chance.”   He, for the first time in the many, many months that I’ve known him, revealed his heart to me.  Bronxman was not even on my list of potential draft picks to marry.

Panic (“Not him, Lord!”) gave way to openness. 


My heart’s wings fluttered.


And then December came…