“Don’t spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.” Coco Chanel
I’ve always been something of a misfit, or to use a more flattering term, unicorn. There’s truth in both terms, because to be so is to feel special and unique as a unicorn, but lonely as a misfit. Dating is hard enough, but this creates additional difficulty, because to be properly matched requires finding another unicorn, someone who speaks my language, who can both hear me and see me. Not everyone can. That’s a large part of why I date long-distance, to find a man who can.
While I have a definite type, more importantly, I’ve been single long enough to become a master of recognizing a special connection and chemistry quickly–it doesn’t happen often. In the past couple of years, I’ve come across such a man on Match about every six months. And like clockwork, I found one recently–right on time.
Our first phone call lasted five-and-a-half-hours. Later that night, we talked for another hour. Easily more time than I’ve spent on the phone with another person in a day. Evan is smart, talented, gracious, and funny. That first conversation he said, “We’re kindred spirits.” Indeed, we are. But, he has a truth that sets a limit on what we can be.
A relationship is whatever two whole individuals determine that their shared space can be. That shared space can be as expansive or as limited as those individuals allow.
Evan was upfront from the beginning that he “doesn’t see a long-distance relationship in the stars” for himself. I’ve been dating long distance for a decade now. I was disappointed but not surprised. For some men, long-distance is a non-issue. Others need to sit with the idea to discern their thoughts and feelings. And for some men, such as Evan, it’s a solid no-go.
The rub is that Evan is British, and before moving to the States to be with his ex, they had a long-distance international relationship across an ocean, yet a long-distance domestic relationship is something he’s taken off the table with me. Not the first time my love life has felt incongruous. It’s frustrating. But it’s been my reality, and while I can try to shift my reality, I can’t try to shift his truth.
I have to believe him. And I do. Some people will try and deceive you and win you over while pursuing their own agenda on the sly. Some people are simply vague. Some people are unsure of their truth(s). But if someone is good enough to tell you a truth about themselves that is disappointing, they are showing you the respect of being honest. Believe them. Evan’s truth isn’t about me; it’s about him and where he is at this point in his life. That he likes me is clear. But that’s not enough to override his truth.
I learned this lesson long before I got to Evan. Men have been telling me their truths since the first man I dated after my divorce, over a decade ago. Back then, I wasn’t as savvy. But I’m a good student, and experience has schooled me well.
A few of the truths I’ve been privy to:
- I’m not ready for a relationship–Scott, 2012. True that. He was separated, not divorced; a recovering alcoholic; his stepson had died the year prior; his wife had cheated on him; he was in risk of foreclosure/bankruptcy; and he lost his job while we were dating. What the hell was I thinking? Scott is a good human being, but I caught him in a bad place. Frankly, I wasn’t in such a great place myself. He was the first guy I dated after my divorce. I was lonely and I’d been celibate for two years. Silly me, I tried to be the patient and supportive girIfriend. That didn’t work. What can I say? I was naïve, lonely, and horny.
- “I’m not good with budgeting.”–Jack Ashe, 2013. Mmm-hmmm. Yet, supposedly he was a successful businessman and he always had money to spend. After a few weeks, some things weren’t adding up, so I did some sleuthing. Digging around, I discovered that he was a scam artist on probation. He’d even lied to me about his name. So I’ve given him a more apropos name.
- “I am probably a poor match…”–-Isaac, 2013. Dear Isaac; he’s a special one. We’ve weaved in and out of each other’s lives for over a decade, imprinting upon one another. My experience of him was the catalyst to start writing–the first time he dumped me, I bought a moleskine journal and began recording my reflections. A decade later, I have a manuscript (in perpetual revision); essays out for submission; and a dating blog. I’ve imprinted upon him as well. The morning after our one night of in-the-flesh-fornication, equestrian Isaac, perhaps a little distracted, was unseated when his horse started, resulting in a major concussion which still haunts him. With time, we’ve grown closer. Recently, he observed, “We have connection.” (2023) Indeed, we do. And yet, we’ve never been in an exclusive relationship. We’ve never fully matched. And he remains the ever-never-married bachelor. His truth stands.
I’ve learned to appreciate honesty, even when it’s not the truth I’m hoping for. I’m an English major. As such, it only makes sense that one of my love languages is Words of Affirmation. Yet I’ve been with men whose words were pretty but didn’t carry any weight.
- You’re the love of my life.–Stanley, 2022. I’d broken it off with Stanley a few years prior to him saying this. We were compatible and had fun together. The words are lovely. I’d love to hear them from a lover who makes me feel that way. Stanley may have meant those words, or they may have felt true to him, but that’s not how he made me feel when we were together, and he had plenty of time to make me feel his truth. Instead, during our relationship, I felt taken for granted. He prioritized his ex, his sister, his friend over me. He didn’t stand up for me. It shouldn’t have been a competition, yet I consistently came in second place. His words didn’t match his actions. And that’s why I eventually left.
- I want you here with me in Santa Fe.–David, 2021. David had a lot of words, all of them pretty–he’s a writer, a master of words, and for a while I was his muse. On our first date he gave me a key to his house and vowed to buy me a ring. Our connection and chemistry is strong. But he panicked. I’m not sure what he’s afraid of–The power of his feelings? Commitment? Making space in his life for someone after being single for so long? Ultimately, the answer is moot. What matters is that after all his pretty words, he panicked and threw up an impenetrable wall of silence. He’s taken the wall down a few times, but, ultimately, he rebuilds it. A few months ago when David came back yet again, I wanted to believe that it was for good, but I was rightfully wary. “No more wall of silence?” I asked. He guaranteed, “No more wall of silence.” Not surprisingly, the wall’s been rebuilt, and once again I’m left with The Sound of Silence.
Hollow words have no weight, no meaning. As an English major, I needs words to mean something. I’ve learned to appreciate it when a man’s words do mean something, even if they aren’t the words I want to hear. At least they’re honoring me with truth.
Stanley’s words were always hollow–promises unkept and words that didn’t match actions. I think David’s words were sincere, but he lacked follow-through. He wanted to be more than he was able to manifest. We talked of being shameless, yet I can’t help but wonder if perhaps his silence is his shame?
My friend Bob told me not to give up on Evan. Bob’s a dear beloved friend, but while well-intended, his messaging is misguided. Bob said that because he cares for me and sees my value. He’s seen me hurt and doesn’t understand why my relationships haven’t worked out to date. Frankly, I don’t completely understand myself, but so it is. And so I face my reality and Evan’s truth, and I don’t hold out hope for Evan to change his truth.
Unless he tells me different, I must honor Evan’s truth. It’s his truth to shift or not shift. Truths can change with time and experience, but I can’t count on that and I can’t hope for that. Hope is both a necessary and a dangerous thing. It’s necessary to avoid its nemesis, Despair, but false hope and hope unrealized, ends in disappointment. Better to live with reality and be cautious about where you invest your hope, for by deluding yourself with an untruth or a hoped-for-truth, ultimately the person you’re hurting is yourself.
Evan’s set a limit on what we can be, so in turn, I need to set emotional limits to protect myself. But within the boundaries of what we can be, I’ll enjoy Evan for whatever our connection is, not sulk about what it isn’t. For Evan is warm, and talking with him leaves me feeling like the sun has shone on me. I want to enjoy that warmth without setting myself up for the pain of disappointment.
But meanwhile, I’ll keep looking for that elusive man and connection who doesn’t set limits on what we can be. For ultimately, I want a man who sees my worth and opens his expanses to me. Every six months or so, I seem to find a good connection. I only need one of those connections to work out. I can hope for that, but I’ve also learned not to count on that. All I can do is keep trying. That’s all any of us can do. And best of luck to you in your attempts!
