After a lifetime spent trying to avoid being banal, i.e. an undereducated restaurant worker after dropping out of high school, cyclical “victim” of poverty, stereotypical librarian, I’m afraid I’ve found myself perpetuating the cliché of “when you stop looking for it, it finds you.”
Let me explain.
I’ve had a couple of relationships that left me feeling as if I was lacking something critical. I can’t really explain what “it” might have been other than to say that “it” was missing. Despite the appeal of the men with whom I became involved, some component of a complete and satisfying relationship wasn’t present. I wasn’t connecting with consistent emotional depth. My heart just wasn’t in it.
Naturally, I concluded that the problem must lie within me. Perhaps the problem resided internally in that very same place where other, better adjusted people than myself kept their emotions.
I felt hollow in a way that didn’t inspire me to fill the void, but instead communicated that I may as well simply get used to the emptiness. Isn’t it better to have room available than be jam packed with what doesn’t thrill? In my world, that’s a firm yes.
And then I met him.
He came to my attention on the dating site I despised the most, eHarmony. A response of his I had read prompted me to spontaneously throw a “like” his way. The next morning I awoke to a text from him which was filled with an enthusiasm that I found intriguing rather than repellent. I was interested.
After a flurry of messaging, and then texting, our paths crossed relatively quickly. Our first date was notable for the ease in which we connected and its duration. We met for a walk, followed by an outdoor concert with friends which led to drinks at yet another location. The night concluded with a nightcap and, since that imperative, yet totally unpredictable It factor chemistry was present, a kiss.
From the beginning, I knew I’d never known anyone like him before and from our second date (at the always beautiful June Farms), I knew that he would take me places I’d never been before, figuratively, emotionally and literally. I suspect there will be times when these explorations will push me beyond what I find comfortable, but this kind of relationship, one that I believe I had given up hoping for, feels like exactly what I want for my next chapter. Smitten.
Saturday night we went to a party outside of Woodstock. In honor of the Solstice, wishes and hopes were written down on slips of paper which were then released to the universe by way of the bonfire which filled the drizzly air (and my hair) with the fragrance of wood smoke. The evening was an absolutely delight to the senses.
Sunday’s adventure was a motorcycle ride to a secret wooded path, which lead to consecutive natural swimming pools carved by nature. Inspired and excited by him, I jumped into the breathtakingly cold water first. I can’t imagine a better way to have spent a few hours on the first day of the new season, and my excitement for what’s to come is boundless.
So, who’s the new guy? I think of him as the man who has put a smile on my face, but you can call him Manchego.