Empty: February, 2009

This is the third time in a week I’ve started a February column. I hope this one takes.

I’ve struggled with what to write about—rules for dating and Facebook? Twitter dating tips and disasters?

One of the side effects of the new regime has been a total lack of motivation on my part to talk about/write about/ponder upon dating. The two columns I started were so lackluster that even I was bored within a couple of paragraphs, and that’s while I was still writing them. I have no funny dating stories. I have no romantic tales of epic coincidence that smack of destiny and true love. I don’t even have a good missed connection caper (I have a kind of funny one, but I’m only an ancillary player in that mini dustup).

Going this route has forced me into some tough decisions.

I’ve had a running “what if” virtual romance with Pet Shop Lady for a couple of years, now. She grew very close to Simone, but we never became involved with each other (every time we circled around exploring a relationship, she would take a giant step backward, and I finally gave up). Still, there was always possibility in the air between us. Even when I was fully committed to The Peach, I’d get inappropriate texts from Pet Shop Lady, and, though I didn’t encourage them, I didn’t actively discourage them, either. It was a point of contention for The Peach, and I can’t blame her for feeling threatened by our odd relationship.

So, in order to protect myself, I took a hard look at the challenges that would be inherent in a true relationship with the Pet Shop Lady, and built a snow fort of doubt and obstacles around my heart. For the most part, it kept me safe.

But when this very beautiful, sought-after, romantic and generous human being, heretofore emotionally unavailable, finally began making an honest effort toward connecting with me in the last couple of months, I couldn’t resist exploring the possibility that we could be wonderful together. So I packaged up my doubts, hoping they’d go away when we finally had a chance to dive in, and started spending time with her.

After a few real dates, though, the doubts resurfaced, as poignant and untenable as ever. I resisted them, not wanting to give up so quickly on something that had been brewing for so long. But when I remembered my promise to myself—that I wouldn’t string anyone along if I just wasn’t feeling it—I realized I had to end things. In her mind, I gave up too soon. But for me, I stopped before it was too late. I needed to know if my doubts could be supplanted by the reality of being with her. Now that I’ve finally spent some time with her, the spell has been broken.

And the purge continues. This week, the last of the unrequited, the backups, and the just-in-cases removed themselves (or were let go) from my roster of possibilities. The benches are completely empty.

It’s like that feeling right after your six month visit to the dentist—the residual pain of all that scraping and digging is offset by the sense that you’re shiny and fresh, unsullied, at least until your next meal.

I’m hollowed and hallowed, without that easy comfort of knowing that there’s someone I could woo if I really wanted company. My drunk text list is clear. I’m on my own.

It really is a hopeful place to be, because it means that my own doors and windows are open wide, that even the ghosts and wild spirits have left the edifice. The dust bunnies have been evicted and I’m in a place where I can welcome the right woman into my space, with no cobwebs or dirty underwear on the floor for her to come across. Spring cleaning has come early.

But it’s also daunting, and occasionally lonely to the point of near paralysis. I’ll find myself sprawled on the couch on a non-Simone weekend night, unable to rouse my sorry carcass even for a dirty martini across the street. Hell, some nights, I lack the motivation to order in Thai food; I console myself with spoon-sized shredded wheat for dinner, yogurt-covered pretzels for dessert, all washed down with whatever beer is left in the fridge.

This is very uncharacteristic of me; my tendency is to take good care of myself when I’m blue, cooking up robust concoctions of fresh fish and vegetables, with crazy sauces and a rich array of side dishes. I’ll do a full-on multi-course meal, for me alone, and live on the leftovers for a couple of days, transfiguring them into delicious brunches and late night snacks.

It’s okay. It is.

It’s good for me to feel this way. As divorce coach Jackie Walker wrote recently, in a beautiful reaction to my January column:

“The courage and self understanding which comes from knowing what makes you tick and not what makes you less lonely is the difference between choosing a relationship which will last and finding that you're back in the spin cycle again.”

I think I’m going to print that out and put it on my bathroom mirror. No more spin cycle for me. I’m holding out for that shiver and spark.

Comments

[Jackie Walker]

Thank you Eric for your lovely words. De-cluttering works a treat doesn't it - and not just for the garage or wardrobe!

Keep shining! Jackie

[Akrinarae]

I meant to comment after your last column, but distractions doing what they do took me away from my thoughts for you then. I can't recall them now, of course, but I did want to let you know that I'm proud of you for taking such difficult steps to find what will truly make you happy. You are an extraordinary person who deserves nothing less than amazing.

[Hollie]

Aw, Eric. Like my guru says, "You gotta know who's at home before you go visiting." There's a lot of growth that can happen during weekend nights on the couch.

[Chassy]

IMHO: This is by far the best column in a while! Keep updating us on your dating life (even when it's non-existing) your musings always makes it worthwhile!

[Anne Wiel]

Although it's somewhat interesting to know what you're doing via your daily twitter updates, I'd be much more interested in what you're feeling, thinking or observing at those times. You're a writer. That shouldn't be hard for you. I, for one, would love to hear less of your daily itinerary, which let's face it, doesn't change much from day to day (whose does?)and more of your unique perspective. You're brilliant. Share that.

[Eric]

Wow, thanks! You're right, and I have been thinking about the fact that my Facebook and Twitter updates have been a bit workmanlike. I'll endeavor to add some more heart to my tweets.

[Elaine at Lipstickdaily]

Great column and wonderful blog . . . I love the dentist analogy.

[CHASSY]

Ok, Mr. Elkins I think we're about ready for a March Column? (It's bad enough that you only blog once a month)...

C.

[Singlegal]

I feel like I'm in the same place, and while it's not "easy," it's turning into one of the best things I think I've done for myself in a while. "Clearing the bench" really gives me a feeling of starting over, and starting fresh. Like I can't make the same mistakes because I'm playing with a whole new roster (ooh - look at me! A sports analogy). It's hard to let go of my "comfort food" but at the same time, I'm really in the mind set of moving forward with relationships that matter - not the "in between" men.

Your blog is great, and thank you for sharing.
PS - I really like Thai food ... :-)