Another weekend and I am at home by myself. Not that it differs too much from the past couple years worth of weekends, but this weekend was supposed to be different. As I write this, I am supposed to be in Mississippi visiting the guy that I have been dating for the past couple months. Supposed to be. I realized a few days ago, however, that in the last 18 days I have been the one to begin all conversations via text messaging, have either called him or asked him to call me and have made myself 100% available to whenever he wanted to get together. So, after a rushed conversation on Thursday night in which he told me he would talk to me Friday morning, I decided to see if he would make good on his word. So I waited…and waited…and waited. It’s Sunday. Still no word.
Several months ago I would have been a puddle of tears and anxiety if this had happened. I would have spent the entire weekend checking my phone (of course texting other people, just to make sure that my phone was working), wondering and waiting, probably re-hashing every conversation, every voice inflection, re-reading all of our texts, looking for a clue—searching for some possible meaning of his absence. I would have doubted myself, sat in shame, written countless pages in my journal wondering what it is about me that makes men disappear and searching Amazon for the latest dating self help books…searching tirelessly for that “missing link” to keeping a relationship that I was somehow missing.
But I’m not living in the past [several months], I’m living in the now. So, while I am happy to say that I didn’t waste my weekend wondering what in the hell was going on and what was wrong with me, it’s sad that I have come to expect this with men. This disappearing act has become par for course and I am not the least bit surprised. In the last year, this is the 5th time this has happened to me. Yes, you read that correctly…FIVE TIMES this has happened to me. And I’m not talking about someone I have gone on one date with who never calls again (there are MANY more of those guys too!) I’m talking guys where there has been some investment, time spent, experiences and conversations. Guys who talked about the future, who talked about being in a relationship…guys who told me I was “unlike anyone else they had dated.” Disappeared. No reason given as to the relationship ending; just left. Gone from my life, forever.
Dating in your 30’s is a totally different ball game. People in their 20’s don't get it. Our married friends don’t remember it. And our friends who were married at age 21, as is so common here in the South, literally cannot comprehend the language we speak in being single at 30 (to all my married at 21 friends out there…you know I love you, but let’s be honest…you have no idea what it’s like.)
Trauma is defined as “…a deeply distressing or disturbing experience”. I looked up words that go along with trauma and here is what I found: shock, upheaval, distress, stress, strain, pain, anguish, suffering, upset, agony, misery, sorrow, grief, heartache, heartbreak, torture; ordeal, trial, tribulation, trouble, worry, anxiety; nightmare, hell, hellishness; war-weariness. In essence, my dating life.
I am just going to put it out there: Dating after 30 is traumatic. It’s a battle of finding a balance between knowing what you need and want in a relationship and not coming across as desperate. It’s facing this cold, ugly reality that you’re a great girl who wants a great guy living in a world where 25 great girls must compete for one great guy (it’s like we live in our own version of “The Bachelor”). It’s figuring out how to keep putting yourself out there time and time again after you’ve been rejected, not called back or walked out on. It’s facing well meaning friends and family who try to encourage you to be patient and keep your chin up as there are “many fish in the sea” when in reality you just want to tell them that every time they say those things it’s like a slap in the face. It’s pretending to be excited (and sometimes actually excited) when someone else is happy in their relationship and you still have a “cold side” of the bed. It’s facing those daunting realities that life is looking much different than you planned and balancing not letting go of those desires to be in a relationship but not becoming consumed, bitter and cynical with it. I could go on, but I think you get it.
So, my friends, I’m not in the business of wrapping this up, tying a bow and making this look pretty. While I am not an advocate for cynicism and the isolation that naturally comes from that, I also don’t think we have to deny the honest reality of our relational life. I guess maybe that’s the bow…just recognizing the reality of what we’re going through and, at the very least, giving ourselves permission to be honest and admit that it sucks.
Until next time…
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