I Hardly Seem To Post

when things are going okay. I also don't post when things are going terrible (I'm too depressed and have to wait until the turmoil has cleared a little) or are going extremely well (I'm too busy being happy to post). And when things are merely okay, I don't seem to have anything much to say. This may explain why I don't post very often. And right now, things are going okay. And I decided to post anyway.

I should be off-the-charts happy right now; I met a guy who seems to really like me. And I really like him. There are reasons to be cautious, although I suspect there are in any interaction between people, so I am trying not to let that bother me. I am trying, hard as it is, to stop thinking and just let myself have fun.

I won't discuss the nature of my concern here for two reasons: 1) it is an issue that involves someone else and I do not wish to betray his trust or violate his privacy, and 2) the main issue is most likely with me and my inability to trust anyone fully.

I have to explain something. I am a terrible friend. Okay, that may be an exageration; actually, I (hope) I am a very good friend. But there are certain things I don't deal well with. For instance, say a friend was betrayed by her significant other. My job, in that situation, is to:

1) hug her.

2) tell her that he is an asshole anyway, but

3) not to make him sound like too much of an asshole, because I wouldn't want her to feel stupid for being with him in the first place.

4) reassure her that there was no way she could have seen it coming.

5) convince her that she can do much better anyway.

6) offer general support.

And I can do these things. The trouble is that when I do, I am not necessarily being genuine. The first, deepest, darkest thought that pops into my head, which I try frantically to eradicate, is this: It's 100% your fault. You're the one who let yourself trust him in the first place.

Now, I do believe that it's healthy to trust people. I want to trust people. But I have never been able to let myself do so. And even though I am in no way convinved that my way is the best way to be, I catch myself thinking that very thought from time to time. And for once, I want to trust someone.

I want to trust that someone really likes me, that someone likes me without just pretending to like me so that he can gain something--knowledge, guidance, a babysitter, an ego boost, sex, whatever--from me. I want to trust that someone really does find me beautiful and isn't just saying so to boost my ego or to get me to give him what he wants (I think it's fairly obvious what I mean). I want to trust that someone really likes me rather than just using me to fill in the blanks until someone better comes along. I want to trust that someone likes me because of who I am and how I think and what I do and say instead of just because he has some fetish that I fulfill. I want to trust someone.

But I am afraid to. I am afraid that I will end up being hurt. I know that life is all about taking risks, and that the risk of emotional pain is the most common risk in the world, and I want to be the kind of person that can take risks. Especially since my refusal to risk emotional pain is as emotionally painful as taking a risk that goes badly might be. But it's scary.

So in this situation, with this person, even though I am scared to death, I am slowly beginning to take risks. I am justifying my situation by explaining to myself that even if I get hurt, I have to learn sometime and this is my chance to learn how to enjoy the good things that life gives me. Even if I get hurt, I will have learned something and it will be worth the pain. Because to be honest, when I met this mysterious "him," I was at a very low point in my life. I had given up on everything except for wishing that I had the courage to be suicidal. And then we started talking and, for whatever reason--our personalities meshed, I just really needed some encouragement, I was lonely, we genuinely have a connection--we clicked. We talked on the phone for 6 hours the first time we talked, and then again the next night. We never ran out of things to say. We met in person and the same thing happened. We spent an extended weekend out of town together and not a single awkward moment passed between us. And so I am slowly beginning to trust.

Maybe not to trust him--I have a lot of reasons to be cautious, both because of his past and because of mine--but to trust. I am beginning to trust in my ability to risk emotional pain, my dignity, the status quo in my life, and my ability to recover if I take that risk and lose.

But it ain't happenin' fast.