Hotter, Nerdier, Blonder is coming home this week. I have kept most of the updates with him off the Internet, but he went away on a pretty lengthy business trip. We have continued to talk on the phone while he has been gone, but he is returning within the next few days.
Now I bring this up not merely for the story element, but also because his return is about to signal a change in the relationship thus far. I have been so busy being excited to plant a big ole kiss on him in the airport that I forgot that after that picturesque moment, reality kicks in – we are in the beginning of a relationship. And while that signals butterflies and floating around on pink clouds, there is another part of new relationships that isn’t quite so pleasant.
New relationships mean that you say to a person, “Yes I think I will decide to let you into who I really am.” I suppose it’s a decision to be discovered. And from experience, sometimes this means that you feel like you are standing on the front lawn in your underwear holding a sign that says “Please still like me.” No clothes to slim you or hide things. Just you and your chonies. And your hopes that they don’t walk away.
One of my hobbies is rock climbing. With a background as a gymnist and a swimmer, it is a sport that comes very natural to me. Plus as an outdoor enthusiast, nothing beats a weekend out in nature scrambling around on rocks. When you get to some of the higher climbs outdoors, there is a term that captures this new relationship feeling completely. Exposed. Usually this can happen when it’s really windy, or the route can change so that suddenly you become very aware of how high up you are, and how little you have to hold onto. It is a very indescribable feeling. Your holds can be good, you can have secure feet, but still you become cognizant of how vulnerable you really are.
This is the feeling of new relationships for me. The side of a rock. Front lawn. Clinging by your finger nails. In your undies. Feeling the wind and the height all around you. And clinging to the sign that reads, “Please still like me.”
Scarlet Letters.
In light of HNB being actually local, I am realizing that as comfortable as I am in my skin and believe that I’m a pretty rad chick to date, there are stories and events in my life that I with which I am well acquainted. [I am avoiding calling them 'skeletons' in my closet because I don't like that term.] I am really okay with the course my life has taken. However, just because you are okay with your life doesn’t mean that someone else isn’t going to look it over and say, “Whoa. I didn’t know that was in there. I don’t know about all this.”
I suppose this brings me to my question – at what point do you bring up some of the harder stories of your past? I know there is a delicate balance between what our significant others should be made aware of and what is information will fuel a fire for no reason. For example, I have a girl friend dating a guy who has been married before. She should know, first of all that he was married, and secondly, someof the background of their marriage/divorce. However, she needs no gritty details. At some point, stuff like that just burns in your mind.
I have a friend that was engaged last year. Her marriage didn’t happen, and now she is dating again. And I know she asks the same question – at what point does she need to tell guys that she is dating that she was engaged before? She asks, “Why does it feel like such a scarlet letter?” Why does the fact that you nearly married someone else seem like the kiss of death to a new relationship? We all know the obvious answer to part of that – no one wants to think of their mate walking down the aisle with someone else. And because it didn’t work out we all want to immediately know WHY. “Quick, please tell me that you are still normal.” Right? Is this not the game we play?
When thinking about this girl friend, I would never call her “damaged goods” in the wake of the broken engagement. In fact, to me, the fact that she tried so hard to make it work before calling it quits speaks to her level of loyalty and commitment in the face of a struggle. She knew that not everything was perfect, but was willing to stick through to ensure that she had given it her best. I would call that integrity….which is a good thing. Still – she is destined to sit at coffee tables with new cute guys and try to explain her way through that portion of her life.
Furniture Projects
Obviously we know that these conversation topics aren’t things that you start your first date with. “Hey, thanks for dinner. I had a great time. P.S. I’ve been married before.” People have to earn the right to know that inner parts of your soul, and the parts of your story that may have left you with chinks in your armor or little scars. That part takes time.
In some ways, these are like the things that antique us. I have been working on a furniture project for the past few weeks. It is a bed frame from my dad’s childhood. I love it that is is weathered and scratched and has stories to go with the scratches. In fact, on the headboard, there are little teethmarks. When my dad was 2 years old and apparently couldn’t sleep during nap time, he put his little mouth on the headboard and gnawed some divots in the wood. They are still there. My mom told me, “When you’re sanding this thing, leave these scratches. They’re important.” And she is right. I could have gone down to IKEA and bought a bed frame that was perfect, but I didn’t want to. And even with my dad’s bed frame, I could have taken the power sander and blasted out all of the imperfections. But I didn’t want to do that either. It’s a better piece of furniture with nicks and dings. So as people, we’re kinda the same way – we are all walking, talking, dating bed frames.
Ingrid Michaelson Wisdom.
As I sit here typing, I am listening to “The Way I Am” by Ingrid Michaelson. I am realizing that this song resonates with us for a reason. There is something powerful about letting someone in. It grows us. It makes the bond between two people that much more meaningful. It shifts the basis of acceptance from what we do (are we perfect, we are beautiful, are we funny…) to simply who we are. Give it a listen.
So, I am anticipating making the drive to the airport, these thoughts roll over and over in my mind. A little unsure. A little scared. Determined to be brave. Decided to climb through the route even if it feels exposed. Picking up my sign and headed out to the lawn. Wishing that there was a formula to follow, but knowing that in this life it is never really that simple. Instead, I know I should take things slowly, genuinely, and organically honest. And then - I will do what the rules say you do - stand in the front lawn in your chonies, and desperately hold the sign that says, “PLEASE STILL LIKE ME!”
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