Posted April 21st, 2004 by Michelle

The other night, sitting by the fire having just gorged ourselves on japanese eggplant, fennel salad and tomatoes confit, my baker asked me what I had learned so far in our, uh, relation-friendship. This was not out of the blue; we’d been talking about hard stuff for a couple of hours. It’s a strange thing to turn to the man you are sort of seeing and admit, “Just about all of my relationships have been disatrous on some level” and “it’s a joke in my family, how badly I choose men”. These are not facts I share readily, but it was a night of finally being honest. My baker called me out on my defensiveness, my path to sabotage, my tendency to shut down. And he did it in the kindest, most generous way, the same way he does everything.

I didn’t entirely answer his question. It was all a little much. And it was in retrospect that I’ve realized what I’m learning, what I will hopefully continue to learn. I’m learning just how damaged I really am. Sean says that I never mourned, that I was never allowed nor allowed myself to take stock of what really happened to me, and to sit with it. I wrapped my arms around my grief for all of a week or so and then I charged forward because I found sorrow to be poor company. I knew he was right, but I didn’t know what it meant, really, until now. I’ve wondered and written about being single for so long- the true “why” of my singlehood- and now I realize that I am simply absolutely terrified. I feel healthy, strong, grounded, and good in my life right now, but I get all of that from myself and it’s a lot of work. But to expect any of it from another? To depend on it? In-fucking-conceivable.

Every day I expect the rug to be pulled from beneath my feet. Every day I expect that today he’ll suddenly change his mind. And it makes me keep him at an arm’s length, makes me only toe that rug. I deserve to be treated like this- of this I have no doubt. Clearly, I’ve deserved this my entire life. I do not have a self-esteem problem, do not doubt my worth, and certainly do not believe that I am lacking in what I have to give in return. I have three years, hell, much more than three years of bottled-up love to bestow on the prince whose kiss finally delivers me from my single life. But… do I dare care about this person? How do I control the doubt? He is different than any man I’ve met, but does that mean he’ll be completely different? Does that mean he will show up, follow through, be honest, careful, and thorough? Does that mean that he, unlike all the others, will not up and decide that I’m just too much to deal with?

I mean, these questions are ridiculous in the same way that I could fret about being hit by a bus tomorrow. (Although I’d really like NOT to be hit by a bus tomorrow.) But the thing I’m learning is that these questions are in me, that I’m not fully healed, that all this time, I’ve not been ready as I thought I was. I’ve been brilliant at compartmentalizing the company I’ve kept, and in that, I’ve been wise in the degree of care I’ve allowed myself to feel. But now, now there is this terrific young guy who I believe can help me trust again.

I’m in New York to hang out with Sean and Jordi before the wedding. I saw a bunch of friends tonight and had a perfect beer at the Beer Garden in Astoria. A couple of hours ago, my baker called to tell me that his day was really long, not because of all the work he had to do, but because I wasn’t there to say hello to him. He wants to take me to see wildflowers on Monday. I feel like he’s an angel who is here to reaquaint me with how good love is. Not deep, dark, heavy, mega-relationship love, just the simple love of time spent with someone I absolutely and totally respect. And that respect is the one thing that has been missing in all of my other relationships. I’ve never respected any of the men I’ve ever loved.

Well. It changes everything.