In a few minutes I have to settle in for some hours of writing a paper called Assessment in Special Education, but first I need to take some time for a heart assessment. Sometimes I feel like I am not so much a polyamorist as a making-things-awkwardist, but I’m hoping as usual that saying some fears aloud will help take away a little of their power.
Last month I wrote about being slutty in high school, how I specialized in one night stands. Actually “one night stands” sounds intimate compared to what I was doing, and returning to men has me a bit haunted by the emptiness of those actions.
Well, now I sort of feel like I’m stuck in the PG-13 version of those high school shenanigans—I’m afraid that when it comes to guys, I’ll always be a one-night grrrl. Since spring, I’ve been kissy-snuggly with 3 guy friends, with whom I’ve had three very different lovely, special sweet nights that sometimes spilled over into mornings and early afternoons. I got what I felt was reasonably attached to them, and then they never wanted to kiss me again, or couldn’t, or would if I’d agree not to get attached (ha.), etc. They all had compelling and legitimate reasons, not that you need reasons to not want to kiss someone again.
I can’t be mad at any of them, because I love them, and because they’ve made sincere efforts to remain friends, but I feel really superstitious about it—what if I can get past that one night time limit. And then there’s the dreaded “What if there’s something about me that keeps making them go away?”
Admittedly, what made two of them go away is that they don’t live here. I tend to be attracted to out-of-town guys, and I sometimes wonder if that comes from a pretty literal fear of being close to a guy, but more likely it comes from the fact that I help run a poetry reading, tend to fall for poets, and find 30th Street Station to be among the most romantic places on earth.
I started out this adventure afraid that I was essentially unlovable to men, and I don’t believe that anymore, but aren’t the odds of me finding what I want kind of insurmountable? Right now, I can’t imagine where he could possibly come from, but Philadelphia would be nice, an actual polyamorous mindset (should such a thing exist) would be nice.
I need such a break from worrying about it. I don’t have TIME to worry about it. But it’s hard to get away from something so urgent, so physically pressing. With the urgency comes a neediness that makes me wan to RUN, makes it hard to be close to anyone at all. To return to my clutch metaphors of last summer, I do my best with first and second gear, but when it comes to love, I’m nothing but a highway driver.
Dear missing guy,
I don’t have time to look for you or miss you anymore. Whoever you are, come on. Come pick me up. Throw me in the car, turn up the music, and go.