Thursday, 6 February 2014

Foundering

Garbage Room! by foundimagination
Jason and I decided we would meet last Friday, and I suppose I'd talked myself into being, if not ok with his smoking, somehow pushing my hatred for it to the back of my mind.

I don't know.

But there was some chemistry between us, at least over the phone, whatever that means, and I sort of felt like I had to meet him to see.  To see what I'm not sure, but to see.

Maybe I was naive after all.

Jason got food poisoning that day though and we didn't manage to connect, but I found myself looking forward to the phone conversation I'd have that night, and enjoying having someone to talk to, and hear from.

Jason thinks I'm pretty awesome.  And while I feel like this is somehow naive of him, I suppose it's also flattering, and what I should be looking for in a potential partner.

Jason talks a lot about things that mean little to me.  His accomplishments.  Names of people he's worked with.  I find myself mentally shrugging a lot.  So?

I have my little world and that's what I know.  I'm not impressed by things that I don't understand, really. 

Except perhaps athletes.  I recently came across a very famous Canadian athlete on the dating site.  (He lives in Victoria, but I never thought he'd have to "stoop" to online dating.)  And I had a little freakout and fanned myself and knew I would never contact him never mind date him.  And I know that B sort of knows him and I find that cool.  Closer to impressive, because I've been in that world a small bit.  I know what it takes to be an elite athlete.  I know the names, the ability, the work, the talent.

Jason's world?  Means nothing to me, really.  Which makes it unimpressive to me.

I asked him at one point if he felt like he was selling himself, because that's how it felt to me.  He said no, he just was who he was.

I mentally shrugged again.

The more we talked the more I kept fighting with myself and struggling with this growing thought that Jason and I were really really not suited.

He was going out one night to a punk show.  Throwing on a leather jacket and spiking his hair.  And smoking. 

I don't want to be with a punk.  All the angry energy and middle fingers and hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.

I want to be with Jay and his peaceful energy and open heart and love, love, love, love, love.  And clean.

I explained all this to Jason.  How I felt like we were poorly suited energy wise.  I compared us to a punk and a hippie.  That he was the bleached blonde mowhawked torn t-shirts of the 80s and I was the long haired, peace love and flowered dresses of the 70s.  That I could never hang with his friends.

Could never sit in a room of them all smoking and swearing and drinking and being loud and angry and why were we even talking to each other?

He kept trying to tell me that that wasn't him.  That he was calm.  Peaceful.  Practiced mindfulness.  That he was soft-hearted.  Maybe too much so.  That his life revolved around art and making it and seeing it.

And we kept talking, every night.

I remember when things weren't going well with Jay.  When we hadn't met yet and I worried that we wouldn't be compatible.  That I worried that he'd find someone else.  That feeling of struggling against my own self which seemed to just be telling me to get out.  And now.

And that fight with myself was never fun.

And I feel like I'm doing it all over again with Jason, but for reasons I'm even less happy about.

I remember Jay telling me that he wasn't sure he could (or wanted to) stop sleeping with his friends.  And that he wasn't sure he was going to live in Victoria.  And other things I'll keep private, out of respect for him.  And how much I wanted to have nothing to do with these things, these parts of him.  But how I fought with that within myself because he was so caring, said so many loving things, and I loved so much of who he was and what he represented and stood for.  I loved him.  And I hated the panic that these things brought up in me.

But am I glad I kept talking to Jay?  Met him and had a time with him?

Absolutely.

And maybe that's why I keep talking to Jason. 

I have no good sense of who he is, other than he talks big.

What I mean by that is he talks a lot about caring and respect and wanting an open, honest relationship with a woman who is his best friend.

And these things are all great if they're true, but I have no trust.  No trust in him, and I feel like not a lot of trust in people in general who talk big.

Jay talked big.  Said he'd never leave me.  Said so many things about how he felt and would take care of me and it was all just talk in the end.  Because Jay took care of Jay.

So I have no reason to trust or believe Jason.  And that's maybe a good thing, really.  That I won't just believe the words of someone I don't know.  It's all just words to me at this point.

Now I have to say, I'm particularly angry and frustrated with things right now, so it's not as if this has been following me around like this for the past two weeks, it's just come and gone in phases and I happen to be writing about it all now.

I talked a bit to C-Dawg about being determined to meet Jason and I felt like it's a "get this over with" kind of ultimatum for me.  I have to meet this guy or else it's just going to get weirder and weirder when/if we do meet.

I don't mention the smoking to C-Dawg.

I mention it to some other friends though.  One says "you just told me you won't date a smoker.  Why are you still talking to him?"  And all I can answer with is "I don't know."  But she's right.  So I don't mention it to anyone else.

But I keep talking to him.  Start missing my evening routines to talk to him.

Start sliding into bed with his voice on the phone in my ear.

Have conversations with him that are zinging with that chemistry, but that the logical side of me is yelling at the top of her lungs because seriously you haven't met this guy yet AND he's a smoker what on earth are you doing you bleeping bleeping idiot.

I hate it, the inner conflict.  And I'm skipping out on things I usually do in the evenings and that means I'm not feeling as settled or rested as I should but it's still nice.  And people notice that I seem happier.  Which I am.

There's this guy who likes me.  I mean, he seems to actually really like me.  And he tells me so.  Tells me I'm awesome.  And I kind of scratch my head at it, but he wants to talk to me every day.  He wants to connect with me.  He wants to know about me, and he likes what he finds.  And he tells me I'm smart, and interesting, and that he's really liking getting to know me and when I tell him that I don't know that we're a good match or that I'm nervous about dating he says he has nothing to lose.  He says he's already met an amazing, intelligent woman and that he has no expectations, but feels like we have a lot in common and connect on a lot of levels.

How is that not flattering to hear?  How is that not nice to be told?

I don't know that we're on the same page.  I'm still pretty on the fence about him and don't know that I buy what he's saying, and have no reference point for the things he's telling me so it's all just air to me right now.  Maybe we're not even on the same book, never mind the same page, but I think our books are probably at least on the same shelf.  Or in the same general area of the library.

But we made plans to meet, after two weeks worth of talking on the phone for hours at a time every damn day.

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