“I kinda consider myself ‘undateable’.”

“I’m not ready for a relationship.”

It’s not like he wasn’t being being truthful or blunt or honest or clear. It was the fact that what he said just… hurt. Not ‘hurt’ like a bullet to the heart, but more like… as if a bunch of golden finches were picking at a heart made of birdseed. Small little pecks… little dents in the armor so tightly wound around me.

And within those two statements lies a moment of decision. To continue on this path of ‘half-love’ with the hope that maybe -just maybe- there is something there worth nurturing and protecting; or to use common sense to “fish and cut bait”?

It had been about 4 months with the South African (2 months of it apart while he was actually IN South Africa visiting his family)… and now here we were, lying in bed, half-asleep and talking in the dark. (Talking in the dark always feels safer, doesn’t it? No one watches your face as you react with all your heart to the words you hear.) It wasn’t a conversation either of us wanted. I myself am uncomfortable with bringing up matters of the heart, and I know men would rather have their penis scraped against tree bark than have a ‘talk’. Part of the conversation came up in me simply because I had slept with another person and I started feeling guilty because I actually LIKED South African, and wanted to honor him if he wanted something monogamous.

There is something wonderfully quaint about the idea of monogamy. I know that a great number of people aspire to it, and yet fall short due to simple human-ness. But what a great thing to reach for! To love someone so much that you would do all you can to make that person happy, even be monogamous! To live a spartan sex life! For love! Strange and anachronistic in today’s world of overt sexual freedoms.

Nonetheless, despite my own fears of commitment (yes, believe it or not, women can be commitment-phobic too), I was willing to get to know this man on a one-on-one basis… or better put, I was willing to explore a life outside of the safety of having someone waiting in the wings. I was willing to try at something greater, something that is John Keats-worthy!, something that took Shakespeare 154 sonnets to try to convey! I was scared, but willing to be vulnerable and ugly and needy and weak and all those other things I am ashamed to be and still am… in front of someone I knew so little of, but wanted to get to know.

So, as I lied there in the ensuing silence, I realized I had been verbally given a spiritual ‘straight arm’ and whatever I had to offer was politely refused, kindly… but firmly. I grimaced in mild amusement at my self-proclaimed joke that somehow I am always able to attract the ‘non-committal, the addicts, and the potentially gay’… and although we went to sleep tangled in each others’ arms, I felt my soul drift out the door and wander aimlessly through the dark.

(Love is hard to come by, and for all of you who’ve found some version of it, please celebrate it daily… not just on Valentine’s Day. Cheers YOMYOMFers!)