Skip to main content

The relationship balance

   The moment I started dating, I was 27. Yeah...I know uber late in life. But I learned to be one thing, or at least I thought I did: how to be a good friend. I was always the friend who was never with someone. I was forever the single one. A lot of times, I was the third wheel, but I never felt like it. My friends, those who I spend most of my time with, never made me feel out of place or like I didn't belong.
   I was and am blessed to have amazing friends. I was always accepted and wanted, and I was always around. When I started dating the ex ex, I spent less time with my friends and more time with the dude. It is the natural process of things, and as I look back I didn't bring him around my friends because I wasn't sure how to integrate my two worlds. It was difficult. Then, when I started dating the ex, I knew that I wanted my friends to become his. I wanted to be a couple in the mix of my friends. I wanted to have someone to share these experiences with...only problem was, I never saw the ex. He and I barely had time to be us, let alone invite him to anything. 
   Now, with the Indian, I am back into that mode of wanting him to integrate into my life. The beautiful thing is: he is around. He cares to be involved in my life. Granted he stays in a town a small distance away, so it makes it hard, but he cares. He has opened up his world to me, and I only want to do the same. I think we are getting there. It seems, with the three men that I have dated, there has always been an impediment. The first was a snarky ass, the second was never around and the third well it could be a number of things. For one, he is Muslim. For two, we try to spend as much time with each other alone and it is usually only one day a week. For three, maybe it's odd seeing me with someone. 
   I recently had a really good friend tell me that seeing me with someone was really strange, and they didn't know how they felt about it. I chuckled because I didn't know what to say. I asked this person if they saw a problem with me dating; the answer was an emphatic "no, but it is taking some getting used to." I suppose I can understand. I try to be the same and do the same, but as I told the Indian tonight, "I just feel like i am split into a million pieces and I can't seem to find all of me." 
    This is the conclusion I have come to: I am struggling with being able to be the friend I once was. Not because of the person I am dating...but because I am dating. I guess I just wish that there were more days in the week than just 7 because it just doesn't seem to be enough...And I'm tired. Maybe when my life (not even talking about the bf) slows down, I can find the perfect balance between me, the bf, and my friends. I surly do hope so soon. I miss my friends, and I miss the bf...I get to see them so rarely. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tiger must stay in your backpack...

   I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go.    And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought.  This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality.  ...

A goodbye love letter to you...

  I sat across from my dad at lunch, yesterday, and asked him, "Do you know what tomorrow is?" He said, "Yeah. 1 year." And his eyes grew damp. "I'll never forget walking into that room..." He didn't continue. I didn't ask him to. "I'll never forget the police officer banging on my door at 1130 at night..." I didn't continue. He didn't ask me to.  "This journal was given to me several years ago by my children. I know they wanted me to write down my thoughts to get through the rough times I was going through at the time. I did not start this at that time. Why am I starting it now? Well, I only thought I had been through hell back then, but now I realize I didn't have any idea what heartache was until Aug 15, 2010 -"   This is the beginning of one of my mother's journals. A journal she started a little over a month after Andy died. And she wrote it--to him.  "Dear Mother - Today is the day before Mothe...

Arithmetic of Purpose

   By nature, humans will, at one point in their life, ask the question, "For what purpose? Why am I here? What am I meant to do?" Okay, maybe they will ask themselves more than 1 question...but at least around the same theme. "Who am I, and why am I here?" It is built in our very DNA. Growing up, I didn't ask this often. I had a loving family who went with the current. Who I was and why I was here was bound up in my place in my family of 4. I was comfy. I was loved. I was secure. But alas...the question presented itself.   I first asked myself this question walking down the streets of Rome. I was alone, I was 21, and I was lost. I had just finished AmeriCorps and felt like I wanted something, but wasn't sure what that was. I had found my faith, at last, and realized that perhaps I wanted to be a bigger part of the Church collective. I felt meaning to my nothingness. I went home with direction. I graduated from college, finally, and started grad school to be...