Tweener

You'd think that by age 40, I'd have my romantic shit sorted out. That I'd be able to tell the difference between a mirage and reality, that I'd know when it's time to get off the single train and hitch on to one that carries two, that I'd understand what I'm doing. But I don't. I have ideas, sure. I have instincts telling me to do one thing over another, to go in a certain direction. The problem is, I've stopped trusting my instincts because they've led to questionable decisions in the past, decisions I'd rather not repeat, because, well, I'm 40 not 25, and I don't have the time, or frankly, the energy to waste anymore.

I used to be someone who jumped into relationships. All it really took was someone I was attracted to, who, for some inexplicable reason, was attracted to me. Not just on a physical level. It could be a sense of humor or something in the way she conveyed herself, but what I'm saying is all I really needed to jump into a relationship was some form of chemistry. Something that hit me when I was around her. Or, let's face it, the prospect of new and frequent sex. And then in I'd go, like a moth to a flame. And without fail, a few months or years later, there I'd be, Hamlet holding a skull in front of his face. "To be or not to be. To stay or not to stay. To go or not to go. That is the question." For as sure as the sun doth rise, the thoughtless and carefree way I'd entered into the relationship would blow back in my face like a Bush foreign policy. It was only a matter of time. Before long, I'd realize that one thing or the other wasn't working as well as I'd hoped, that the egg was missing its yolk, that the relationship had no soul. What started out as fun, a lark, an adventure, hadn't remained so. There I was alone when I wasn't alone. Torn and angst-ridden about what to do. Wondering how it all had come to pass. Had I been attracted by the wrong things? Had she? What was it? And why had it happened that way? Why hadn't she or I said "No" after date number 3 or 4 when it would have been so easy, all those months or years ago?

Not to say that my relationships have been a waste of time. Quite the opposite. Maybe it sounds like that's what I'm saying, but I'm not at all. Regardless of how long or short my relationships have been, I truly cared for, and learned from, the women with whom I've been involved. I guess what I'm saying is that more often than not, I've kept re-learning the same lesson. Over and over again. Instead of progressing and evolving as a person, I kept making the same mistakes with very similar people, based on the original sin of my decision to enter into a relationship.

I have a theory, one that I've culled from years of experience and conversations with friends, married and single, women and men. It goes like this. Quite often, too often, what we're most attracted to is dictated by the most dysfunctional part of ourselves, the part we keep in a dark room behind a locked door. And, like it or not, it goes back to our childhood and what we became used to as children. Maybe a parent was completely absent, as a result of a divorce, a simple disappearing act, or perhaps an untimely death. Maybe one's mother or father favored a sibling, or you just remember it that way because you were an out-of-control freak of a child who required loads of attention. Or maybe your parents tore each other a new one every night over dinner, trading barbs and criticisms and you're this and you're that, but no... rather than divorce, they decided to stay miserable together and make you miserable in the process. So you became used to fighting and conflict in relationships and now, as an adult, you're perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. No one can make you happy because you don't even know what the hell happiness looks like. And if it taps you on the shoulder, you don't trust it very much. Or maybe your parents or peers in school made you feel so worthless or unattractive that deep down you don't believe anyone could truly want you. So you either don't date at all, or you date and then sabotage whatever you find with distinctly counterproductive behavior.

There are hundreds of examples. People typically sum all of this up in one word: Baggage. And the funny part is, the people who usually use that word, baggage, are the ones who think they have none. They say "I don't want any baggage in my relationships." "Leave your baggage at the door, pal." "She had so much baggage, I couldn't deal with her." I don't like the word baggage because to me, it's a negative word that always connotes having to lift something heavy and undesirable. To me, baggage is another word for the human condition. Few of us had perfect parents or childhoods. Fewer of us have tried to sort this shit out and become more self-aware and self-actualized before we finally commit to someone. But so MANY people think they have great relationships and they have no baggage at all. That is, until something happens, seemingly out of the blue, an affair, a loss of a job, a mid-life crisis, the death of a loved one. Then it's a watershed and all those repressed emotions and baggage come to the fore. I, for one, think everyone carries something around, even those seemingly perfect people you see who think they have it all, know it all. Most of those people, in my humble opinion, think they have no emotional issues because they're not self-aware or honest enough with themselves to admit that this is the case. Maybe it doesn't affect them on the surface, maybe it does. But the fact that no one is happy 100% of the time in this world, that people are continually impacted and upset by life and circumstances and react accordingly, says something. Just because you're moving up the professional ladder and have achieved success or seem to have a great marriage doesn't mean you don't have something churning under the surface, a sleeping dragon you don't want to wake up. Look at Eliot Spitzer. Look at Bill Clinton. Look at your attractive, happy neighbors. Look at your siblings, your cousins. Unless you're living an exceedingly charmed life, it's impossible to live in this very imperfect world without being pockmarked by a few asteroids. Life is a school and those asteroids are your teachers. To me, it's not a question of whether some people have baggage and others do not. It's a question of whether two people are willing to help each other lift the other's bags, or whether those bags are just too fucking heavy or the wrong color.

Then again, it's possible to overthink things, isn't it? Blink certainly suggests that's the case. Sometimes the instant feeling is the correct one. The tough part is distinguishing between that feeling and the one that's dictated by your bagg--, I mean human condition. Why does that girl make my heart race? Why doesn't the other one? And is heart racing the true yardstick of love and future happiness, or should we be looking for something else? If so, what? I used to pursue the former. As I've gotten older and a bit more wise, it seems to me that most successful relationships are more about friendship, communication, sharing, and being on the same page in life. They're about finding someone who has your back, someone who's uncalculating, who loves you for you, and who isn't going to run off as soon as a prettier and more successful butterfly comes along. But why are we still drawn to the butterflies and the head-over-heels and the zing? Why do we still demand it? Is it from societal conditioning? From Hollywood and Cosmo? Is it innate, a hand-me-down from our Cro-Magnon ancestors? Who knows? From what I can see, that want doesn't ever leave, and people seem to expect it even after years of being with someone. Maybe not from the person they're with, but when they get it from other people, people who are not in the relationship and therefore have nothing to lose, it can be a powerful draw.

What's my point? I have no idea. I think it's in there somewhere.