I write here to let go of the things I would otherwise keep bottled up. I share my thoughts and feelings publicly, though anonymously, to purge them from my mind. It’s much more cathartic than writing and completely throwing away the final words.

It’s not unlike casting a message in a bottle out to sea; I know someone might see it someday and recognize the author, but it won’t really matter much then.

If you are a reader, you know what I write here has largely been about my relationships, or more bluntly, my lack of a loving relationship at this point in my life.

Frankly, it sucks a little. Okay. A lot.

Although I love my time alone, I’ve discovered that I miss knowing that someone cares about me and wants to spend time with me. I do miss sharing and experiencing life with someone special. I miss a hand to hold, lips to kiss, and someone to cuddle with in the late evening hours.

Sometimes the loneliness is much greater than I expected it to be at the beginning, considering how I much I like my private time. It doesn’t help that I remain in a state of limbo with paperwork, financial workouts, and all the other crap that goes along with going separate ways. I’m also dealing with work issues and a couple new projects. It can be so overwhelming at times that I want to just walk away from it all.

But, I can’t. Too many people depend on me; there has to be orderly transition. This sucks, too.

A few of you know me personally; something I now regret, because as I expressed frustrations and loneliness here I think it changed our relationship. I’m also sorry for the headaches and frustrations you experienced because of me and what I’ve written.

As 2011 draws to a close, I’ve made the hard decision to move on in many areas of my life. I can’t keep wasting time waiting for life to begin again.

I’ve not come to a conclusion as to what I’ll do with oneguytalks.com. I like the idea of the pseudo-anonymity I have in this space, but I’m beginning to think it no longer serves my purpose as I change. Time will tell, I suppose, but I may need to take it a different direction. Maybe something edgier and less whiny. If you have an opinion, please share it.

If you are a reader, thank you. I appreciate that you’ve been interested in what I’ve been writing and that you have felt compelled at times to share your thoughts.

Although I’ve not written much this year and I probably won’t write much the next few months, I hope you’ll stick with me. Please think of this as a little hiatus until I figure out my next move.

Now, I’m off to work on getting my life on the happy path. I hope you’ll come along but, if you need to move on too, I’ll understand.

Peace.

I believe in the importance of keeping promises, although I realize that not all promises can be kept.

I understand that we make promises to ourselves, and to others, using the knowledge we have accumulated to that single moment of our declaration. In that moment, we forget that what we know is altered moments after we obligate ourselves to our position. Yet, we hold ourselves accountable for making good on our word. I think it’s a recipe for disaster.

Even so, I make promises, too.

I am fortunate to have a high success rate of keeping my word on the things I can control, like connecting people, finding workable solutions, showing up on time, or taking care of people in my life. Even when it becomes increasingly clear that I will fail, I work hard to deliver as I originally promised. It’s almost like the childhood game of “red-light, green-light,” as I try to figure out if I should move ahead, or just stand frozen and watch it fall apart because I can’t reach my goal.

My marriage is a prime example of such work and failure. A six-month separation at both the third and eleventh years of marriage should have been a clue that this was a promise I could not keep. It took me almost fifteen more years of arrive at the conclusion that I would not be able to keep my word for no other reason but that the man who made the promise at age 21, was a clearly a much different man at age 47.

Arguably, growing in a different direction is not cause to break a promise.

We grow in the direction of what we have, or who needs us, a friend said to me recently as she tried to help me make sense of why I had abandoned for so long the things that gave me a sense of fulfillment and made me happy.

The conversation made me think that people are similar to plants or trees in this regard. A young tree will rotate and bend effortlessly as it seeks nourishment from an energy source. If we’re not diligent in pruning, watering, and maybe rotating the tree, it’s unable grow straight and strong as is its true nature. Instead, it becomes spindly, twisted, and rarely bears fruit of value to anyone.

When we’re young we, too, grow easily toward our source of encouragement and nurture. Our parents, spouses, and children all pull us in their direction and we twist and turn to sustain their desires, while rarely considering our own needs for pruning, nourishment, and rotation so that we may grow evenly and toward our own true nature. Like the tree, we may never bear our intended fruit, or if we do, it may well be bitter.

No matter how well-reasoned, broken promises can still kill a relationship.

I believe I’m growing toward my true nature now. I’ve been pruned and rotated, but the nourishment thing is still problematic. At this moment, I find myself at the intersection of keeping a past promise and a future filled with the wonderful possibility of nourishing someone else, and being nourished myself.

I made a promise to a friend a long time ago to, metaphorically, “stay on the sidelines and off of the playing field.” It is a promise I take seriously because my commitment to my word has built a mutual trust and respect between us that I do not want to lose. We both are comfortable now, giving a part of ourselves without expectation of anything in return. We are in a good place now, I think, after some struggles at the beginning.

In spite of that, I do feel like I’m playing that game of “red-light, green-light,” while I sit on the sidelines. I occasionally hear “green-light,” but I’m never certain whether the words were actually said, or if I have imagined hearing them. This makes me too reluctant to step onto the field because I can’t help feeling the moment I cross the line, I’ll be accused of secretly playing the game that I promised I wouldn’t play; even though until that moment I will have kept my word and stayed in my assigned place. No one will ever know how much effort it takes for me to keep my impulsiveness in check when I think I hear, or see, “green-light.” I don’t want things between us to fall apart, but I would love to be the one who proves that he has everything it takes to reach the “stop light.”  Uncertainty is such a bitch.

I am content to stay on the bench because the value I place on our friendship is so much greater than any desire I may have, or impulse I fight, to risk losing what we’ve built. Still, I can’t help but wonder, as I have watched the other games over the year, if there is any desire for me to break the promise I made at the beginning and build upon our friendship.

You can be confident that this is a promise I will never break; unless I hear, or see, just one, very clear and direct, “green-light.”

“Red-light,” …

_____

Traffic Light With Steam by edenpictures

Posted from a mobile device.

My road to self discovery has been rocky, especially where women are involved. In the past year, I’m certain I’ve confused the hell out of few of them. I’ve been over attentive with some, aloof with others, and with one woman, running hot-and-cold the same day. Surely, she thought I was a nut case.

In recent months, I’ve come to believe that men exiting a long relationship should be exiled for at least a year. There’s too much we need to figure out. Trying to have a relationship with a woman, even one that’s platonic, stretches our mental and emotional capacity to the breaking point.

It’s better if we’re secluded while we try to figure it all out. There’s less collateral damage this way.

I’ve been somewhat successful with a periodic, self-imposed exile. I’ve become better, for example, at keeping the aloofness in check, though the over attentiveness still causes me problems even in my platonic relationships. I can’t seem to control those impulses to share what’s on my mind or to let a woman know I’m thinking about her in some way; sadly, this pushes some women away with reports that the frequency of contact is, well, “smothering.”

I know that some of this comes from a place of loneliness and anxiety, but there’s more to it. It’s simply how I’m wired.

If I’m traveling, for example, and I see something I think someone would like, or something that would brighten a day, or get a laugh, I send it. If a person expresses an interest in doing something fun, or going somewhere special and I can help make that happen, I offer to do so. I do this for everyone in my life and I expect nothing in return beyond a simple, “Thank You.”

This is clearly part of my problem. We now live in a culture where most men don’t do things for women without an expectation of something greater in return. If the relationship is platonic, the frequency of thoughtfulness might mislead her into thinking something else is desired, or worse, make her feel guilty for not reciprocating the kindness in some way (read: Sex, or maybe cookies. It’s a situational; you figure it out because I’m not good at these things).

I suppose if these were “real” relationships–romantic and/or physical involvement–the frequency wouldn’t be a problem, it would be expected. The fact that these are platonic relationships changes that level of expectation for attention. It shouldn’t, but it does. Don’t women think they deserve attention if there’s not a “real” relationship brewing? If it’s a case of not wanting attention, shouldn’t women be crystal clear about that, too?

I was raised by a woman who taught me to be thoughtful, especially when it comes to the other women in my life. Moreover, I just like doing things for people. I want to make people happy; doing so, makes me happy.

I do like being thoughtful and it’s a natural state for me, though it apparently turns off a few women in my life–women who claim to be looking for this very trait in a man. I would think this would be good practice for giving and receiving gratitude, assuming there’s no romantic interest between the parties that might complicate any accompanying feelings related to the gratitude. Apparently, I have more to learn.

Maybe the real answer is the simplest and most obvious: There’s a spark deep down that we’re not ready to admit. We’re still learning about love and what we want from our relationships. We don’t want to push away what might blossom into something better and more meaningful in time. We know friendships can grow into deeper relationships if given the opportunity.

I hope this isn’t about mitigating risk. I’d like to believe it’s more about examining the opportunity costs.

I do wonder. Sometimes, I think I have the answers. Other times, I’m certain I’m misreading every “sign” I thought I knew.

Of course, maybe I’ve just discovered that the problem is all mine. Should I just be living more in the moment? Are my future expectations too great. Am I just an obnoxious, needy, and narcissistic jerk?

All are possible. I’m sure I’ll know the answer soon.

It’s confession time.

No. I’m not lifting the curtain to reveal the man behind oneguytalks.com. This is a different kind of confession.

Today marks four years of celibacy.

Yes. I said four years.

Sad, isn’t it? Perhaps “unfortunate” is the better word.

I should clarify that I did not take a religious vow, nor is this attributed to the lack of my desire or physical ability. This period of celibacy is an unintended consequence of life events.

Like with many couples, the dynamo that I dated began to lose interest in sex shortly after we married. Once the kids came along, her interest lessened. No amount of romance, household chores, begging, pleading, or experimentation seemed improve the frequency much. It wasn’t long before, once every two or three months became the norm, which soon became once or twice a year. After twenty-three years, I just got tired of trying. It was no longer worth the effort. Our libidos were seriously out-of-sync. While this wasn’t the cause of our marital problems, it certainly didn’t help matters much.

For most of the last four years, I’ve channeled most of my sexual energy into my work and art. Since our separation eighteen months ago, this energy has become increasingly harder for me to contain. I am working to the point of burnout and my art has become increasingly erotic. Worst of all, I am now so consumed with my work and my art that I cannot find the time to do much of anything else, including write.

Frankly, I’m not sure what to do next.

I know you are reading this in disbelief, thinking, “Dude, you need to get laid!”

You are right, of course. I do. But, I’ve never been much of a one-night-stand guy. I’m not wired this way. Sex for the sake of sex is fun of course, and certainly a way to release stress. I just don’t like the empty feeling I get afterward. I need some sort of ongoing connection. At least that’s the way I felt about it before I got married all those years ago. I doubt my feelings now would be much different.

Besides, I have really only encountered a couple of women in the last year with whom I felt any a physical or mental attraction and those feelings were not reciprocated. As for the few others, sex would have been a possibility had they been interesting enough for me risk the empty feeling I knew would come afterward.

I do not need more emptiness, thank you. I have more than my share.

Deep down it’s probably not the actual act of sex that I miss; it is the intimacy. I miss lying next to a woman in bed and the feeling of her body next to mine. I miss the smell of her hair, the warmth of her breath, and the lightness of her touch. I miss the closeness that two people should feel when they’re together.

I think I miss the feeling of truly being desired by someone else, most of all.

Yes, I do need to get laid. Yet, I would gladly remain celibate another four years if I could fill that time with a little intimacy.

Am I wrong?

______

Photo credit: Alpha Couple – Edna Pontellier by ‘Lil

This love-thing has become troubling to me.  I’ve been wondering lately if I’m actually capable of the kind of romantic love that seems to be the norm for movies and the ideal to which most of us aspire.  I have lusted. I have been infatuated. I have had crushes. I have cared for and about women.  I do like the company of women, though I don’t think I can truthfully say that I ever found my “soul mate,” if this ideal is even possible to find.

So, what is love, anyway?

Webster suggests it’s easily defined:

1. A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. A warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child or friend.
3. Sexual passion or desire, sexual intercourse; copulation.
4. Affectionate concern for the well-being of others.
5. Strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything.

Webster is silent, however, on how love is supposed to make one feel.

This is my dilemma: While I have, by Webster’s definition, loved, I’ve never felt the way I think I’m supposed to feel.

I don’t think a textbook definition of love is what we seek in life; I think it’s the feeling we hope to have when we find love that drive us to relationships.  These feelings are indescribable for most of us and likely different for everyone. I doubt that any two people can come to a mutual understanding of how romantic love makes them feel, which is why it’s so hard for some of us to find love in the first place.

I’ve always believed I will have this constant tingling-feeling every time I look at or I’m with the object of my affection in order to be in love.  My expectations of love are that it will cause some sort of inexplicable chemical combustion that keeps a fire in my heart and desire in my loins virtually every waking moment, whether we’re together or not.  Sadly, this is something I’ve never experienced.

I suppose this makes me shallow because a good part of this feeling has to do with physical attraction. This base desire and physical touch is so important to me in keeping the connection alive. The physical doesn’t always have to be about sex, though. Whether I touch her leg, massage her shoulders, push her hair from her face, rub her feet, or simply sit and cuddle. I want to be overcome by the feeling that I cannot keep my hands off of her and I need her to desire my touch.

Of course, I realize that love is greater than a physical connection and the constant tingling I desire. I know we show love through the little things we do and the care we give for the loved ones in our lives. I do these things now, but my need to take care of these small actions to show love must be driven by desire, not a sense of obligation.

If we don’t experience something greater than simply caring for each other, what’s to differentiate the platonic love for a friend, a parent or a child, from the romantic love we all desire?

I sometimes question whether my expectations of what I think love should be are set too high for me to attain, or for any woman to live up to. But, should I settle for something less than my ideal on the chance that I might possibly have unrealistic expectations of what love will mean for me?  I don’t think it’s the smart thing to do the next time around.  Even if it means I spend the rest of my life searching for something I may never find.

Happy Valentine’s Day. May your unrealistic expectations be realized.