Sweet Valentine, Part Four: Between Two Dates

 

How would anyone understand things without Mary Oliver?

Like a lot of people with Relationship OCD and probably non-divergent daters as well, I struggle with the time between the first date and the second. The uncertainty is hard, yes, but my brain always wants to rehearse for the eventual ghosting or other kind of rejection. I have to be ready to say goodbye perfectly, because if I don't, I feel shame. To react anything less than magnanimously to rejection feels like a violation of consent, like I'm impinging on the person's bodily autonomy. As with many things, OCD makes fraught things fraughter, and I would like it to please pipe down.

I had no hesitation about asking him out for Valentine's morning though, it just felt right! Like, we're both cute and horny and full of spiritual love, why not do the traditional Valentine things? We deserve it!

But then. The plan-making process. The waiting-to-hear-back! I started to wonder if I'd sabotaged our chances by picking such a pressureful day. Maybe I did! Or maybe our chances are just what they are. 

As soon as the plan was made, the time was chosen, I felt like going all in. I felt like Aphrodite in my Valentine's Eve dress at school. I was g l o w i n g with hope, joy, and confidence. I even thanked Blue Ribbon Work Crush for being the greatest work crush of all time--going on three years! We had a little whirlwind of cute before going back to our normal high fives and safe little flirts.

I worried that Sweet Valentine would think I was cliche if he showed up and I was in red lingerie with a bouquet of multicolored roses and some chocolate cupcakes, but also, this is our one and only life, and it was Valentine's Day. It might have artificially raised the stakes, but I wouldn't trade that morning-to-afternoon for anything in this world. But if crashing into each other like waves made it so I wouldn't get to keep getting to know him, I'm sorry about it too.

It feels painful to think of writing about the sweetness and hotness and rightness of that day, not knowing what will become of him and me, not knowing where this break-to-reflect will take us. But I'll write it in good hot faith when I'm ready, I promise. 

Autistic Euphoria and the Guy Next Door: Part Five

 

Even though I was on edge about how to talk about (Or not talk about? Who can say?) Girlfriend Next Door, the second Art Night went even further into the magical realm of Autistic Euphoria. It's not too different from the joy of meeting someone the ropes really like! It felt so profoundly liberating to have someone to play with! He bought over his music (some complicated situation with a private server) and we played songs back and forth.

If I'm playing songs back and forth, my heart is 100% in the mix. I try to tell myself it's no big deal, but that's a lie.

I was hypervigilant for Signs He Might Like Me Back. He talked a little about Girlfriend Next Door and it didn't sound like they were that serious of a thing, but he was definitely not as touchy-feely as he'd been the previous visit. A couple of times I touched his arm for emphasis and he looked apprehensive. I can read signals from time to time, and it's concerning to me that sometimes I just want to ignore or counteract them. Maybe everybody feels like that sometimes but it makes me wonder if I'm a predator. I don't think so, but I could do better.

No polite "thanks for having me" text this time. He'd offered to watch the cats for an upcoming trip, but he didn't write back or acknowledge when I sent him the trip dates. So my brain did what it does for inscrutable texting rhythms--made it about me. Was he Backing Off or just busy.

Why, at any point, didn't I just tell him what I was feeling or ask him anything about what he wanted this connection to be? Things I could have asked if I was being true to myself at any point during our sadly abbreviated friendship:

After the first hangout: "Hey I felt a spark last night, what do you think? Any potential there?"

At any point: "Am I texting you too much or do we just have different rhythms?"

After I found out about GFNS: "Are you two poly or exclusive?"

I have these skills! I've been poly or poly-adjacent for nearly my whole adult life! But, when The Guy Next Door first came onto my radar back in August, my OCD therapist suggested I wait and let him say something if he liked me in a romantic way. This had a certain logic to it, especially since we live so close together.

So, as if the work of this blog had never existed, I'd accepted the don't-tell-him challenge. And it brought me so much pain. Probably caused him some pain too.

(OCD Versus) Autistic Euphoria and The Guy Next Door: Part Three

Meanwhile

 After our first Art Night, The Guy Next Door texted a gentlemanly note thanking me for the evening, just like someone would do after a promising first date. Or a lovely first friend hangout! I should have just asked.

It didn't take long for OCD/trauma to take over for the euphoria feeling. I didn't WANT to devote so much of my consciousness of whether he was texting me at any given moment, but that's the illness. That 15-to-20-percent of my brain could have been used for lesson planning, for learning my knots, or literally anything else, but my brain remained fixed on the little green messages square, hoping a red number would appear. If I could have one aspect of my gorgeous neurodivergence just zapped right out, I would.

We talked in the yard sometimes, so I tried to gauge how much he would want to talk and how much he wanted to be left alone. I tried to do the insane math of how much he would want me to be out in my own yard. I'm doing a thing lately where I weed 10 minutes a day (Trying to avoid the dreaded weedwhacker!) so that kept me from hiding in my apartment and avoiding the yard entirely.

At one point, I sat in one of my Adirondack chairs to read and it broken underneath me. I have no idea if he saw, but in my head, I might as well have been onstage.

Both our sets of front windows are so big! But I felt exposed even with the blackout curtains drawn, even in the privacy of my own bed. It was hard to ever feel truly alone. I felt his presence when he was home and I missed it when he was out. I got entrained to his rhythms. I still am.

No more texts came for a few days. He missed saying happy birthday, even though I'd mentioned the date like a million times. Signals! The day after my birthday, when I was feeling satisfied but spent from my birthday adventures, news arrived.

"So it turns out that (Girlfriend Next Door) and I got back together, lol. She'll be housesitting for me this week. I hope you'll get to do some chatting, she's a delightful human being."

Things just change so fast. Sometimes I can't keep up, and this really felt like the rug being pulled out from under me.

He'd mentioned being poly, and this seemed like some poly bullshit, all of a sudden being expected to bond with her because he liked her. Or! Just some friendly neighbor stuff. I did meet her and we DID kinda bond, over his love of making hot drinks in overly complicated ways. She's curvy, chatty, femme brunette, it's possible he had a type. Or it's possible he just needed a stopgap until she came back to him. Or! Courtesy of Occam's Razor--friendship!

I didn't know what he wanted me to do or want or be, but I knew one thing--I didn't want to get tangled up with these two.

So I told him I needed to pause art nights for a bit, hunkered down to be sad about this mismatch. I truly wish I'd left it there.

OMG! Briefly Unbored By Dating, Part Three

 

That Thursday of my brain yelling at me, I felt detached from my life, unable to connect with the things I normally enjoy. I couldn't feel the wonderful day-to-day because this one thing was unresolved. Though I was outwardly just moving through my workday, I felt desperate, emotionally ravenous, ragged and ugly.

OCD trying to kick my ass because someone hasn't texted back is one of the most miserable feelings I've ever experienced. I hate it so much.

During the Shy One times, which yes I would loooove to stop referring to, when I felt a vibe shift or he hadn't written back in a half a day or so, when I was feeling so inferior to his wife, when my brain was being so mean to me, I tried to change things. I'd try to make him into a more attentive texter. There were BDSM-style negotiations. I'd cry/get mad/manipulate for at least a heads up when he was going to go radio silent. But that's not how moods work, or how life works, I know.

I still think it's reasonable to have a preference about texting style and often-ness, but I would someday love for my brain to not turn against me when someone I really like is not communicating right at that moment. That's what exposure therapy is for, and waiting for Not Boring Guy to write back was a great way to practice, just the way my weights routine is making my wonky knee stronger.

After the long day of exposure therapy/waiting, he wrote to say "Sorry, I was out of town on a date."

Friends! This is someone I've never met, I'd only heard his lovely deep voice and seen cute pictures. It feels very silly to say I felt heartbroken. He said the seriousness of the date was TBD, but he would keep me posted.

TBD! Oh great, another chance to practice "sitting with uncertainty" as the OCD therapist says. I'm sorry, but sometimes uncertainty can just bite me.

When the TBD was determined, I genuinely felt happy for him, but I definitely wasn't in the mood to play Compersion Barbie, I cried into the dishes and felt WHY IS IT NEVER ME feelings. 

But then, I took care of myself! I lit a candle and lit some jasmine incense. (Special interest side-trip: it says "night blooming jasmine" on David Lynch's tombstone and that phrase is so pretty. Like the opposite of an intrusive thought!) I did some self-compassion journaling: mindfulness, common humanity, loving kindness. It felt good to treat myself lovingly, even though OCD kept offering me unhelpful opinions.

The next day, I woke up feeling like a superhero. I was still sad but also so glad to have felt totally gaga about someone for a few days. I felt like I handled the situation with honesty, dignity, and grace. Honestly, I just love myself so much sometimes! It felt so good to plug back in to work and friends and all the other kinds of love, maybe a little bit stronger for the next adventure.

OMG! Briefly Unbored By Dating! Part Two

 All of that felt kind of nuts to tell him! But it also felt really good! It also seemed to open him up a little, or maybe he's just like that?

We have a profession in common, so I really liked hearing about his career and telling him about mine. He sent a voice memo about a particularly meaningful day at work, so soulful! Plus a gorgeous, warm, gravelly voice. *swoons forever*

The couple of days we were texting felt exactly like springtime--beautifully peaceful but full of blossoming possibility. I let myself hope that this might be, not just a thing, but the thing.

And then, he stopped texting. I knew he was travelling that Thursday and I ALSO knew that this would be the perfect chance to do my Relationship OCD exposure therapy. 

It's possible that I have a good intuition for when someone has lost interest or switched gears. There seems to be a rhythm for "interested" and a different rhythm (or lack of) for "wandered off." Still, I'm learning to live with uncertainty a little better--I worked hard all day at sitting with the discomfort of not knowing, trying not to be already writing off the connection.

Here's what it feels like when someone I really like isn't texting and I don't know why: I *know* I don't have any claim to their time--in this case, we hadn't even met! But OCD doesn't give a single fuck about being chill for five seconds and letting people live their lives! Or about letting me live my life, for that matter!

Here are some of the things OCD tells me when someone isn't texting RIGHT THAT MINUTE:

"You were stupid to think he might have liked you back."

"You're humiliating yourself and being so pathetic."

"He has already forgotten you. You are so worthless, you might not even exist."

Sitting with the feelings and fielding the unhelpful things my brain was telling me put me in the foulest mood.

Two Great Loves Is a LOT! And Relationship OCD

 

Irving on the train, knowing he's been loved.

I haven't wanted to post for a while, mostly I just don't want to keep repeating the same story--I continue to be amazed at how many people are out there not being the right one.

One thing that's new is OCD therapy! I've been getting treated since November, when I realized it's not superhealthy to think that my dating life is CURSED. (I still kinda think it is!)

The way they treat OCD sometimes is exposure therapy--just leaning in to whatever awful thing that compulsions are helping me avoid/make worse. The other day, I was telling the therapist all my deepest, darkest fears of what happens if I never find love again.

I could be alive another 40 or 50 years, and I have a hard time imagining those years without this quest, this longing. I can keep looking, but I also want to make sure I'm not missing my life while I'm focused on what's missing, who's missing. I want to keep living a full and lush and vivid life, no matter who comes along.

The other day, the 22nd, it was the three year anniversary of my first date with The Shy One. I decided to do my exposure therapy by writing him a letter in my journal, not one to send. I searched up a picture of him on that night. His face was the absolute pinnacle of post-quarantine cute: soft of face and fuzzy of hair. A peaceful and satisfied smile. Beatific! And of course there were the ropes pictures, the ropes that liked him so much and went on so easily.

OF COURSE it's hard to move past the magic of that night and the subsequent messy-beautiful of my ten months with The Shy One. I hold out hope that I will some day, but it's truly taking FOREVER.

But when I started the journaling, I found myself writing about my OTHER favorite first date, with BFF-Formerly-Sweetie. I'd given her an invitation (Sesame Street themed, with glitter inside) to come to the poetry reading I hosted. She'd told me she had something to tell me after the reading, so the whole day was anticipation. It was a two- reading day, and I stopped in between poetries to have some spicy blackbean soup at a neighborhood cafe. My tummy was so nervous that I couldn't eat much. After the reading, she told me she hadn't really dated anyone before, and she wanted to try dating me. It was a dream come true.

A decade of months and a decade of years. A messy love affair and a marriage/lifelong friendship. Some people are out there searching for their best friend, and here am I calling mine 2-3 times a day.

Unlike Irving, who could only sense deep within himself that he had been loved, I was present for every moment. Yes, I was a mess, and yes it's over, but it WAS. Relationship OCD makes me doubt everything, makes me think it couldn't possibly be real, but it was nice to visit that knowing for a few journal paragraphs, and it stuck with me.

Dating is boring and vexing and not the good kind of tedious. I'm lonely and pining and frustrated a lot of the time. My hormones are changing too, making the urgency less in a way I both welcome and fear.

What I'm practicing in OCD therapy is learning to live with uncertainty, and that certainly helps. But so does the knowing that I was and am thoroughly loved.