Maybe it’s me

If you know me at all, you’re fully aware that I’m more a word person than a numbers one, a fact which only makes the following statement seemingly even more out of character…

…the clear common denominator in all of my relationships is me. Easier math than 1 + 1 = 2, right?

Evidently, I’m incapable of adding someone to my life in way that completely satisfies either, or both, of us. At least not forever.

There was a time many years ago when my goal in life was to have “She had a good family” etched on my tombstone. The sentiment remains important for me to strive for, but I’m no longer interested in a tombstone and scattered is where I want my remains to be.

Things, and people, change.

But, back to the problem of me.

I’ve dated some really wonderful guys – men who are smart, funny, kind, hot, sweet and thoughtful, with just a couple of outliers, shall we say. I’ve had my heart broken and suspect I have caused a similar pain, maybe even more than once.

During the times I’ve been involved romantically, I’ve gotten better at recognizing what the relationship is. And what it isn’t. I’ve learned what’s acceptable and what I won’t tolerate and have come to understand that the line between the two has been known to shift.

No two relationships I’ve been in have been the same. But there is at least one consistent component.

The constant problem is me.

In recent years I’ve spent a lot of time and energy trying to understand why my heart has remained in a state that can best be described as dormancy. Surely, this inability to form a deep romantic connection must be an indication of something lacking in me. I must be fundamentally damaged in an emotional way. Even broken perhaps.

I’ve seriously considered a return to therapy to talk things through with a professional to try to determine what my problem might be. I tried being philosophical about it, with philosophy being, like math, a subject I didn’t study to any great degree.

Perhaps, I considered, I’d already experienced the love(s) of my life and my remaining time wasn’t going to include a partner who might satisfy the undefinable criteria of which I couldn’t seem to let go. The X factor, to revisit the mathematical theme with which I began this rambling post.

Or maybe I just haven’t found that piece that I’m unwilling to be without in a relationship – not the one which will make me whole, but the one that will make me feel complete.

You know what? It really is me – and that’s totally fine.

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