I’m sure this is something that you and Captain Obvious have shared a chuckle and a beer about already. You knew I was a freak from a mile away, this isn’t news to you at all. You can’t hide your closet o’ freakiness from us, Single Mom. I know what you’re thinking, I do.
Freak? Duh, Single Mom. That’s not the type of freak that I mean today. Sorry, we’ll get back to the chips, dips and chains and whips soon, I promise. The freak I mean here is that I’m a little of an emotional freak. It’s truly hard for me to let someone in, really inside me.
While this post though is about me, it’s also about YOU and your relationships too. Ya, you. Because what I’ve figured out about myself I’m pretty sure isn’t all that unusual. Well except that ONE freaky thing, but that’s our secret, right? (wink)
I think I’ve also accidently uncovered a basic human truth and while I’m busy strutting my swag around like a boss, my zipper is down. So, I’m definitely not as cool as I thought I was. Truth is I got nothin’ a whole lot of nothin’.
I can read your thoughts right now too. Ok Single Mom, you expect us to believe that you struggle with intimacy when we’ve been skinny dipping with you, we’ve peeked in on your car’s steamy windows and read about you shaving your cha cha. Sure… you’re so hard to get to know, whatever. You’re rolling your eyes too, I can see you. I don’t blame you.
I know, I know it seems like a contradiction. I get that. Here’s the thing, I don’t think you and I are all that different. Each of us at our core has a need to be loved for who we are and yet our fear can take over and we can push people away when they start to get close to us.
Some people have happy marriages or are in estatic relationships and never struggle with them. I have friends who married their high school sweetheart and have the most blissful marriage imaginable. Barf. I get my revenge on them whenever I go to their house. I go to Chipotle, eat a loaded burrito, clog up their guest room toilet with my Chipotle poop and touch all the doorknobs before I wash my hands. When the party is over, I go home to all my kitties and we laugh about it. It's a shallow victory, but it's all I have.
I suck at relationships; I’ll be the first to admit that. For all the thinking, writing and speaking I do about love, truth is I’ve wrecked way more relationship trains than not.
However, I keep coming back to two basic truths:
- Men and women want the same things - Sex and Love (but we go about it differently)
- We all want to be loved for who we are, who we REALLY are but we are afraid of it
I think I understand men sometimes, I do. I think I’ve figured you out and just when I buy into this notion that you are all simple, beer guzzling, game watching, skirt chasing neandrathals, you prove me wrong. Shocking truth coming here: you men have hearts under that stuff. Sure, I might have to dig through a layers of empty beer bottles, chicken wing bones and filthy schoolgirl porn videos to get to it but you do have souls. Dammit!
I’m a great mom, I have hoards of great friends, I can make the best crème brulee from scratch, throw a kick ass party and I have other, (clears throat) mad skillzzzzzz. (wink wink) Yet, I can’t find and keep love to save my soul. I want a fun relationship, I want to find someone I connect with and just when I think I’ve figured out how to do just that, my fear kicks in and I sabotage it.
Remember several posts ago, I wrote about key to unlock the secret treasure? It was to keep things fun and light, not overthink anything. That was a brilliant plan. I thought I was so smart, so S-M-R-T. It was a brilliant plan untiI I started to have feelings. So, I’m not going to waste any more time working on my acceptance speech for the smartest person on the whole planet award. I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon.
Here’s another shocking revelation for you, I’m not a nuclear scientist. Shocking, I know. Yet the image in my mind of what letting someone close to me is like what I would imagine to happen in a nuclear plant. Someone is getting close to me…
code red... sirens going off... loudspeakers blaring “this is not a drill”... monitors flashing countdown sequences...
My internal alarm system is a lot like that. Sirens are going off, the alarm company on the phone: “We’ve detected an intruder in sector V”, security camera flashes on to show Sector V. Well guess what, folks “Sector V” is Sector Vagina. Your little dirty minds can have fun with that if you want to, but here’s the truth beneath this weird metaphor. Having sexual intimacy with someone new initiates this meltdown sequence for me.
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| What Latin Lover does to my junk |
Enter into this Single Mom’s life, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, charming, successful, warm and funny. We have an amazing connection and I enjoy every second of his company. He basically lights my junk on fire like no other.
So, I’m so smart what do I do to charm this beautiful creature? I do the emotional equivalent of flicking boogers at him. Go me.
In Single Mom style, the way I avert nuclear meltdown is an odd weapon of choice, my cell phone. Really lame, I know, I know. I started feeling close to Latin Lover and pushed him away by being a cranky premenstrual bitch via text. Effing brilliant. I felt myself starting to let him in a little and that scared the hell out of me. I had to test him and push him away. It’s a defense mechanism and I’m really mad at myself for doing it.
I didn’t threaten to kill his whole family or cut his man parts off with a rusty pocket knife or anything, but I wasn’t the sweet, sappy Single Mom you know and love. In a word I’m an immature dumbass. Oh wait, that’s two words see what a dumbass I am? I can’t even count.
The profoundly sad truth is that I’ve realized the one thing that I want the most in this whole world is the one thing that scares me the most to have.
I guess I need to figure out how to let someone close to me. If I don’t figure it out my future involves spending a lot of time in Crazy Cat Lady town. Please send me lots of kitty treats - I think I’m gonna need them.
Smooches,
The Single Mom
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