dating

Another date tonight. Another lovely, kind, interesting man. Another reminder of how that inexplicable chemistry, the kind that turns a lovely, kind, interesting man into someone 'special', can be so elusive. Another reminder of how lucky I've been in the past to find it at all. Dating again after such a long absence from the dance has been interesting. It's bolstered my faith in mankind, there are so many very decent men out there, and it's bolstered my faith in myself. I was afraid that I would compare every new person to the boy and find them lacking which hasn't been the case at all. There is no comparing.

The guys I've been out with have been really great. Accomplished, funny, interesting, emotionally mature - they 'get it' - but no one I'd be interested in seeing a second time. At first I was slightly deflated by the reminder of just how hard it is to find someone that feels special but now it just feels kind of nice to be reminded of how many decent people there are out there. I'd forgotten about those awkward "it's not you, it's me" or "you're very nice but..." conversations, God, they suck. How do you explain something that has no words? That there's no chemistry, that they're not your match, that you've always known the second you've set eyes on someone that that "something" was there and you didn't feel that tonight but you really would, actually, like to be friends because they're totally supercool?

Dating again has made me miss the boy in a fond way, reminded me of the instant connection he and I had, and realize just how hard it is going to be to find it again, but it's also helped me see things about that relationship that I hadn't seen before. One of the things that has struck me most is how interested these men are in me; how thoughtful the questions, how focused the attention on the answers, how genuine the intention to get to know me. It's struck me because that wasn't there with the boy. Everything he knew, he knew because I offered it.

Turns out there is some comparing after all.

I remember how surprised the boy was that I liked him. How, at times, I felt that he was almost suspicious of the fact that I loved him, as if I were simply desperate and latching onto an unwitting foreigner because I couldn't find someone in Canada. It's funny. If only he could have known me at home he would have known that I wasn't in love with him because there were no other options, I was in love with him despite the fact that I had other options. I chose him.

I think of him every day. I miss him every day. But it doesn't matter. Life is moving on in an increasingly joyful way and I'm letting myself be carried forward instead of resisting by wishing over things from the past. Of course, I hate that things are over but I hate even more the way that they're over. It's strange knowing someone who used to mean the world to me is out there living a life that doesn't include me, that we don't even talk anymore. It seems childish and ugly, I don't like it but, again, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what I want, wish for, like or don't like. There's freedom in that and all of the painful feelings that used to accompany thoughts of him/us are changing, fading. It is what it is.

Broken edges become dulled, raw feelings are soothed by time, the ache of missing fades, sadness melts into acceptance, life rebuilds around the hole left by someone's departure, and faith returns. Sadness, regret, longing, fear, confusion and shock are replaced by happiness, excitement, openness, acceptance and optimism. The change is a slow but sure one. I have trust again that all happens for the best and I know there will be a time when I don't think of the boy at all let alone think of him with sadness.

It's already happening.