I can’t lie. I’m starting to realize that I’m on this tiny white stage with my psyche half naked and it hasn’t done enough yoga. That’s especially true as I peel the layers on this Angry Onion and lay bare my facts of trying to find a love connection past the middle of my life.
At first it felt like a playful romp with my daughter as matchmaker. I expected us to giggle as we sent out my bio data into the great unknown of dating sites. I didn’t expect a big response but even a few dates, some oddball stories, would be something to talk about.
The idea of asking my daughter to match make came after a heavy weight blow to my internal story, the one I made up, that the onion guy and I would be lazing around on summer days drinking wine for eternity. Many things can be born when other things die. I call him the onion guy because he sweetly said if you don’t know what to do, start by cooking an onion and the rest will fall into place. A few days later the only falling— was out of place. He couldn’t see a relationship and I couldn’t see him without one. Total knock out.
I thought if my daughter played matchmaker I could move him further in the distance. It’s clear I have no idea what I’m doing, so this could be good. I’m not hoping to be seen, as its been suggested, but hoping, more, to see another person.
It’s like hiking. When the trail winds you up and your body aches, you start to understand. You find a rock or a piece of grass and sit with nothing in your head. That’s when you can see everything clearly. That’s when the full crush of natural noises fills your ears and the wings of butterflies are powerful.
I got wound up and I ache. I am ready to sit with nothing in my head so that I can see and hear–another person. Not my version of them, but them, that real human animal next to me in his uniqueness. Not man or type of man, but being full of his own mysterious nature that can be embraced, understood and revealed over time.
But already in this process I am getting a clearer picture of sitting with the nothingness of me. Not the me worker or woman or dating candidate, but the being on those rocks with light and sun and butterflies. If you can’t see God in the guy next to you at the store, if you can’t see the beauty of your street then there’s no point looking for God and beauty in the soaring cathedrals of Paris and Rome. If you can’t see the beauty in you, you won’t find it in anyone else.
So in some way I suppose this naked psyche is showing up more in a mirror than to an audience. I am showing up here, for me.
The matchmaker and I had our first candidate and it didn’t work out. Candidate #1 and I never never made it to a first date. He was funny and kind with great stories. I laughed and fell under the spell of his words for a nice 90 minutes but when the idea of an actual date came about, we both fell apart. We could not communicate on a basic enough level to plan getting together.
Even though a formal relationship never happened I still feel like I failed. I still feel sad about it and imagine he does too. I have no answers and no questions. It’s hard to know what to ask.
The matchmaker briefly discussed disbanding, and we still may, but for now we’re forging ahead. She is considering some sort of speed dating scenario. I do like the getting it over with rapidity part but that doesn’t sound like the right mindset, quite, does it?
I wish this process could feel like the last leg of a hike when your feet hurt, your legs are sore and your hips are weak but you know the feet are going to soon be bare, the cool drink and fries will be at your dusty fingertips and it will all be so worth it.
Honestly, I don’t know what this is all about. I don’t know anymore if I’m looking for someone to love or hoping to love me better. Certainly an excuse to do a project with my daughter is worth any price, so that goes into it.
It’s funny how the people you once loved, you still love. In some way everything springs from that.