Relationships: A Case Study on Overthinking

There’s nothing wrong with being open and honest and wearing your heart on your sleeve. There’s also nothing wrong with talking about your feelings and realizing that nothing in life fits in a singular, simple box.

Don’t ever assume you can assume what’s going on until you ask the hard questions or pre-emptively supply the hard answers.

That said, welcome. This personal experience for me is being shared in case you’re all jammed up in the grey matter when it comes to figuring out if you want to be with someone.

Act I: Wandering around the dream…

Early this morning, I had a dream about all those beginning things that shift your step at the start of a relationship. When you’re out for a minute and someone catches your eye.

The soft parade where you’re trying to impress each other, but you don’t know what to say. Feathers out, on a stage.

Perfect strangers trying to become a thing. A perfect match. But you don’t know anything about each other.

In this dream, I didn’t know anything. She didn’t know anything. Who are our friends? What kind of car do we drive? Are we cat people? Do we get lost in the stars at night?

Is she a vegetarian?
Jesus Christ, what if she’s a vegetarian?
I like to keep a ham on hand for sandwiches and omelets…

We were just two lost souls trying to weed through the fodder. Trying to figure out if it was worth getting to know anyone at this point.

And she was kind of tall.
Taller than me..

Wore tank tops and low-rise jeans.

Laughed loudly but wanted to remain unseen.

It started with talking. Then it moved on to the part where the strings started to connect, but one wrong move and the whole thing could unravel. That’s when it moved on to those loud laughs with light touching.

She was standing and I was sitting so I put my arm around her waist and tucked my head into her hip.

That connection.
When the switch flips and you start to figure out what needs to be figured out.

We were at the part where you’re in a room full of people but the two of you are alone for the first time.

And then I was on a beach.
But she wasn’t there.

And I found that I was being pushed and pulled in another direction. I wanted to go back. I felt like I had to go back, but I was going through – literally – an obstacle course – jumping over things, and sliding under things – exerting a significant amount of effort and force in the wrong direction.

And when I finally broke away – when I finally got back – I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. And if she was there, she didn’t remember me.

So what do you do in times like these? Well, you wake up. You end the dream and there you are on the frontier of a new day.

Act II: Upon Waking…

The whole thing made me realize that I don’t want to begin again. I enjoy the idea of feeling something for someone but once I get there – I don’t want to be there anymore.

It’s the thrill of the hunt.
The number one occupation.

And you can read into the why and how of that. There’s a fairly simple answer to all of that.

It’s the age-old fight between the head and the heart and, at this point, I don’t know who’s calling the shots. But I know, on some collective level, that as much as the whole idea of affection and love has been sold on me over and over, I just don’t have it in me to cross that line.

I mean, I just figured out who I am again. Picked up all the pieces. And now that all is calm and bright – what? I’m just supposed to do it all over again with the hope of never getting back to what got me here..

Again.

I would love to fall in love with cozy sweaters.
Maybe some wavy hair and the smell of women’s deodorant that you only get a hint of when you get too close.

Low-rise jeans.
Simple giggles.
Maybe some dirt under the fingernails and a tan that stuck around through fall, only to find it fading as we wander into winter…

But what about right now?
What about this moment where I’m writing from?

Act III: Right Now (7:28am)

The sun is about to make its first tear through the night sky. The cat is purring on me as I lay the wrong way in the right bed. The girls are upstairs sleeping and…

… and nothing.

I don’t have to do a thing all day if I don’t want to do anything. I don’t have to consider another adult and their life. I don’t have to fill in the void between quiet and conversations.

Granted, I’ve got the whole day planned out. I’m just waiting to finish writing so I can hop in the shower and turn it all on.

It’s not the fear of commitment. It’s not even the fear of getting our synapses to fire on the same plane to where a connection is made.

It’s just the whole idea of interrupting everything I’ve built. The whole idea of someone hanging a shirt in my closet or washing the dishes the way they wash dishes.

It’s six months down the road, ignoring the wonder of how it all began. It’s getting comfortable and worrying if I’ve got enough fuel in the tank to keep being the person that person needs me to be.

All I know about who I am starts right behind me. There isn’t a long and winding road I’ve been down or a story I want to share. Sure, there’s a lot I can say about me – but I don’t want to build a relationship built off of how I ended up here.

The last thing we need to be is one another’s therapists. Not for that shit at least.

I’ll be someone’s stray cat and they can be mine and we can talk about lonely nights in the rain. But let’s not complicate it with past lives with other lovers.

I also know I’m very proud and protective of all I’ve got and what I’ve done and a lot of that is sleeping in bunk beds above me.

They deserve all of me.
They need all of me.
Even though I only get them half the time.

And does that person get me half the time?
Do they sign up to be their other mother?

That’s a massive ton to think about and a lot to ask for. Like “Hey, I know we’re enjoying getting lost in one another’s minds, but have you met my amazing daughters? They’re here too.”

And I don’t resent that.
And I don’t expect anyone to pivot for that.

The last thing I want to be is a beast of burden. But those are the facts. The living, breathing, facts and I’d rather be upfront than trip someone up.

Does she like hiking?
Camping in the dead grey of winter on a random Thursday night?

How about being lost on a trail in the cold rain and snow then getting warmed up back in the truck while we wait for the windows to defrost while listening to something unexpected and hoping that she’s getting lost in it as much as I am so she gets why I don’t want to talk on the drive home?

See? See how much I expect right from the get-go?

I would rather get lost in my mind than in someone’s eyes at this point.

But the truth is, these things are just walls I’m building around me. Walls with signs hung from them saying “Wait until you see what’s inside”. That buzz in ancient neon just so you can’t ignore them.

I’m just as inviting as I am off-putting.

… And I want to plant more apple trees and raise honey bees and get caught wandering around outdoors by the wind and not my neighbors.

Where do fuzzy sweaters, low-rise jeans, the smell of wonder and baby powder, maybe wavy hair, and all the other delicate things I can try to find creative ways to write about fit in, with all of that?

Well. They don’t.

And if it bothers me a few days out of a whole year, then I’ll err for the greater good.

I don’t even have a couch in the house to cuddle on.
So maybe all of this is a good thing?

Act IV: The Realization That I’ve Been Overthinking

The fact is, the story that got me here is a great story. I’ve had a hell of a life. I’m an honest person and I don’t spit in front of women. But here’s the real kicker:

After reading this and editing it thoroughly, I don’t know what I want. Not really. I just know that I love who I am and where I am and – well – maybe I don’t want to screw up someone else’s world because I’m really happy with mine.

I’m okay with that.
In fact, I’m fine with that.

That’s a solid statement that can stand on its own without me having to explain it.

I always had this idea that once the girls were old enough to fend for themselves I’d finally tear the walls down and let all hell break loose. Put my heart out there on a stick and wait for someone to tear it apart.

It’s inevitable.
In all relationships.

We just have to find that part in the middle and hope to hang on to it for as long as we can. I can tell you a million amazing stories about life in the middle. But I won’t – because old relationships don’t build new ones.

So here’s to dreaming the dreams and taking chances before you wake up.

Here’s to reading too much into those dreams and finding the courage to wake up.

And here’s to poking around, having fun, and making sure you don’t leave your boots by another man’s bed.

Act V: The End

If you need me, I’ll be out here dancing…
After all, I’m still walking – so I’m sure that I can dance…