More About Her

I recently wrote about the impossible woman, and I wanted to add two things to the list. The first is that she'll be the kind of woman who is a teacher on her way to being a CEO (there's no "career path" for that). The second is that I'll know her as she will feel like "home" to me.

I've been watching Battle Star Galactica, which makes me a big nerd, but we're getting to the end and there's a lot of talk about what "home" means to the characters. Four years ago, it was the planet they lived on, but now it's the ships they reside in. And it isn't so much the ships, but the people, the experiences they have had on those ships. The things that bind them together, their common struggles, their memories - all that makes it a home.

What that really says is that I need to find a way to struggle with someone. Not fight, but to go through a hardship or challenge or something and come out on our feet together. Dinner and a movie isn't something one bonds over. It's just food. Getting stuck in the rain is something you can bond over. High school is something you can bond over. Conquering a fear of heights or snakes is something you can bond over. I hate snakes.

Three Years

It's been three years since I've been in a relationship where we both said we loved each other. That's a long ass time.

What I Swore Off Girls For

I swore off girls in search of something. Now they're less sworn off (and yes, dudes, you're still out in case you were curious). There was something I had lost. Something I was good at doing, and it was something I had forgotten. It was the thing that made relationships special, magical.

Shoes.

Not the kind you wear, but the kind you stand in that belong to your girlfriend. The kind that tell you that she's worked a lot on being more earth friendly, so when you notice that she went to the effort to get a blue bin so recycling is easier, it melts her heart.

Tonight, I was reminded of those shoes that I had stopped standing in. Someone I know complimented me on my ability to keep running with a humorous story to the point where it gets her laughing so hard she can no longer breathe. I love those stories, and that's "my flavor" of comedy. It's what I love doing, what I feel I'm really good at. To have a simple compliment, something made almost in passing, made my day.

I hope I can return the favor soon enough.

A New Question

Bailey asked me Friday night, "Why is a great guy like you not already married?"

I didn't have a good answer for her then. The standard answers could be things like, "I'm not as good of a catch as you may think", "I'm very picky", or "I'm afraid of commitment", but I'm not sure those are the reasons. They're all at least partially true, I am just a guy, I do set the bar high, and I'm just as apprehensive as the next guy (or girl) about spending the rest of my life with someone.

I can blame fencing for some of it. Even in the longest, best relationship I've had, I consistently picked fencing over her, over us. I think that's what scares me the most about fencing - the addictive effect it had on me. Fencing was easy to pick because it was easy for me to feel needed, and it was easy for me to meet expectations. It seemed like I was living, when the reality was that I wasn't risking anything at all.

The more realistic picture would be that I've been married to fencing for the last eight years, and that I've only been divorced for a year - since I moved out to San Francisco. In that sense I'm kind of just getting back into things.

More than just loving fencing, I think the real issue is that I've been reluctant to risk... myself. No, that's not quite right, I put myself out on the internet for all to read and judge, and I risk life an limb doing things like fencing, kite boarding, and rock climbing. These are not safe activities.

I think I'm afraid of failing someone else. I fear becoming another person's most important person, and not living up to her expectations, falling short. I cna point to countless examples in my life ranging from preschool to present day where I have freaked out, broke down, or abandoned a situation because I didn't think I was good enough. I'm not afraid of failure in itself, but I am afraid of people not finding me to be what they need me to be - of that, I am scared shitless.

Dear San Francisco

I'm not gay. Sorry SF, I know there's a lot of dudes who are into dudes, but that's not me. I have no qualms with the gay community, but I have been banking on the fact that the assumption in the past has always been that I'm straight. This is a whole new ball game convincing a woman that I'm straight in addition to letting her know I'm interested without comming off as a skeeze.

Some people have tried to convince me it is a compliment. "Gay guys keep themselves up better" is the assumption that comes from. But really it's more like someone confusing me with a guy named Steve. I'm not Steve. I'm Will, it's totally different. Nothing against Steve.

I feel like this little fella who says "Fuck you! I'm an anteater!"

Pairing

At work, we pair program. It's better than code reviews because it's inline. Someone always knows what I'm doing, and he can offer advice as I go. He can steer me clear of potential pitfalls. He keeps me honest. My pair is always up to speed and so it is easy to talk to him about the thing I'm working on because he's a part of that too. In return I do the same things for my pair, whoever it might be that day.

I think a good relationship is a lot like pair programming. Someone who is an active part of my life. I don't have to bring her up to speed because she's there every step of the way. I pull on her experience to help me when I get stuck. I give her a chance to rest while I drive for a bit. In return, she gets the same things from me.

I want to find my pair someday.

Atom and Eve

I talked more with Josh and Anne, delving into the intricacies of the metaphor for "chemistry". Josh says that the reaction may be slow to happen. I'm pretty convinced that it either is gonna happen or it isn't. There's no "making" of the chemistry. And it's a strange thing for me to come to terms with. I grew up thinking that if two people seemed like a good match, then they could foster the yet-unidentified chemistry.

All the years spent, wondering why I liked someone and not understanding how they could possibly not feel the same about me! If only I'd known! But then how do you know? What is it about a relationship that makes you say "There's some chemistry here"? I don't know, but I know it when I feel it. So the point is that if you can't make it, you just have to find it.

Molecules

Anne equated attraction to atoms. Some atoms can sit side by side but they never react. They understand each other, they have the same protons, same electrons, same neutrons. But we just don't have Chlorine Argon. But snuzzle up some Hydrogen next to some Oxygen and look out! WATER! Reaction! Attraction...

It is like that. Just like that. The problem is that I don't know exactly what kind of molecule I am, I don't know what kind of molecules the ladies out there are. And even if I knew both I still wouldn't know which ones I'd react with.

But that's actually a lie. I know a lot about me, more than I'd say most people know about themselves. I also know a decent amount about the kind of ladies that I'm attracted to. I even know a little bit about the ones that have been attracted to me. This all means I'm pretty well off for being an atom looking to form a molecule.

Nitrogen atom seeks single Oxygen to form a strong bond. Willing to share electrons, can offer fulfillment of outter shell.

Unwound

Recent events led me to consult the almighty Google for information about "chemistry", what makes two people love each other. I found stuff that talked about chemicals in the brain, blah, blah, blah. Endorphins this, and dopamine that. But wait, what if that's all there is to it? Then I read about people becoming addicted to the checmicals, and that's why they stay in relationships - that monogamy is programmed into us. The people who hop from relationship to relationship are addicted to the set of chemicals found in the beginning of the relationship.

[NOTE: there was more to this post originally, but it got eaten by the internets, so I wrote the paragraph below the next morning]

The whole think smacks of "no choice" and "no control" in the sense that my brain doesn't get to pick. I can't adapt to a situation. It's always going to be square peg - round hole or round peg - round hole. No in between is what I get from my reading. It's like a form of fate, which makes me uneasy because I want to control my own life. I don't want to think that I'm just an observer in a fleshy man chair.

Amy Meyer

12:32am text message from Amy Meyer: "i concur"

It was in response to my previous blog about our escapades of late. But no one says "i concur" but the RCF fencers, Josh and I mostly. Everything about her feels like that - it clicks. We can talk about anything and everything. She's full of life and happy. She's new to the city, so we share that. We met at Euchre night. She grew up in East Lansing and went to college at Arizona State. Now San Francisco is "cold" to her and she doesn't see herself staying more than a year. But in the meantime she's living with her sister in the Haight, but will soon be moving in with her other sister (and her partner and their son) in outer Mission.

She's gorgeous. And she shakes her head when she says something that makes it just a little more sexy than it needed to be. Se came from a fairly religious background, and admits that being a democrat is the only thing that separates her from being her mother. Amy taught in Costa Rico for a year (where she dated a student) teaching English as a second language - big points for being an English teacher in a way. She's also a psych major, like my mom was.

She also says she can cook really well. Basically, if I had a checklist of the perfect future Mrs. Will Read, so far the only empty boxes are brunette (which she says she has mousy brown hair, but it's blond right now) and same age (she's 24, same as Jon). I enjoy every moment I'm with her and I forget about everything bad that may be going on (job stress, paper cut, the whole nine yards). And I long for the next time I get to see her again.

She has my sweater now. I always think it's a good sign when a lady steals your clothes. And things are going slow if they're going that direction. I like it - "friends first" kinda. I hope she feels the same way about me, that I do about her.

Husband Material

For a while now I've said and been told I'm good husband material. But there's a difference between being berries that are perfect for a jam, and being the jam. I mean that I haven't undergone the squashing process to follow the jam analogy. I may be sweet, have good color, and moisture, but if I never take the time to become a jam, then I'm still just a berry, and some day I'll rot and then I'll not be good for much.

What I've been thinking about is that I haven't taken the time ever to be a great boyfriend. Whenever I've been dating I've also been busy making the time to be a great proponent of fencing (fencer, coach, ref, etc.). I think I made fairly good choices in the past, fencing was helping me to grow. But now I'm not so sure it has the same effect on me. I'm also no longer certain that I'm helping fencing grow.

I look at this last year. I became the secretary of the Indiana division and since then we've had some of the smallest turn outs, it seems like people are traveling and competing less than ever before. I look at Purdue Fencing Club, and they do a good job of making decisions without me. RCF I know I'm holding back because I've got two unanswered emails in my inbox from people wanting to fence, and there's a voice mail on the club's phone from the newspaper that I haven't followed up on.

Work and other things keep me from giving my fencers the attention they need and deserve. Not one of my fencers has really felt like he has improved since I stopped being full time. I get frustrated when the new fencers don't listen to me. I get grouchy when the old fencers don't do as well as they could. I'm a detriment to the sport.

Dickerson Once Said

"If a woman throws herself at you, make sure you catch her."

I could probably still be convinced that this statement holds a great deal of merit. However, I think I would add on to the end, "And if the fish is too small, it's ok to throw it back." Meaning, that if a woman is interested in you, go ahead and explore the potential, but if she's not long-lasting material, then it is also acceptable to move on.

That One Person

I think after a conversation with Tiago and Josh tonight over some really good pizza, I better understand a part of who I am. Our conversation was all over the place, but one of the things that Tiago mentioned was how women seemed to have crushes on other women. What Josh and I extrapolated was not that women are romantically attracted to one another, but he meant that a woman tends to form a strong bond with a another woman in her life, just one at a time.

My knee-jerk reaction was "that's odd", but then I realized I'm not any different. In grade school, I had a friend, John. John was certainly my best friend, and arguably my only friend. One summer afternoon after fifth grade, we had a fight. It was just like a break up when I look back on it. I found a replacement, Pat. I did everything with Pat, even nothing. When Pat started dating, I got jealous, my companion's time was divided all of a sudden.

When I went to college, alone, I again found myself needing a person, that one person. Matt filled those shoes for a while. Ultimately, I ended up growing a pair and dating someone. In that person I put all of my trust, my secrets, my life.

It's probably that same need that made me jump from girlfriend to girlfriend for a while. There was a string, without much down time in between, and some might argue that I was rebounding. Really, I think I've just been afraid to be alone, to not have that person.

In finances, they tell you "not to put all of your eggs in one basket." But I feel like the best connections I've shared with people have been when I loaded up that one basket with all the eggs I could find. In the interim between girlfriends, I've been able to find some success in putting some of my eggs in a few baskets, but I really just want one, one basket, one person.

Love The Next Person That Walks By

If I asked you to love the next person that walked by, you'd say I'm crazy. Of course if you're me you might wonder if the next person was someone great. But even so, what if you did love that person with all of your heart, just like I asked you to do (well "told" you to do, but "asked" seems nicer now that we're a few sentences into it), and they didn't love you back. Or what if they flat out rejected your love? What then?

You'd probably kick my ass. That's what.

Love is tough, and when a person goes through the effort to love someone, he/she does so in hopes that it will at least be appreciated, if not reciprocated. What you need is for me to tell you to love the next person who walks by, and to have told the next person walking by to love you. if you knew that, you'd be on board all the way I bet. Let that steep in your brain for a while.