However, just photos of places that are not particularly exotic (Chicago, Wisconsin) are perhaps not incredibly compelling to most. So I thought I would share the story of how my beau and I started going out. It's not really a way to "see Italy," but it does fall under the category of amore, which is molto italiano.
We actually met about 20 years ago, more or less. We're not sure exactly when, but it was not long after I moved back to Chicago in 1993. A lot of my friends were musicians, and the indie-rock scene in Chicago was (still is) pretty tight. There were maybe three or four bars this crowd tended to congregate in--the much-missed Lounge Ax, the Empty Bottle (which had just opened at the time), and the Rainbo Club were the main ones. The beau, S., ran in the same crowd, so we met early on. I think my friend K. probably introduced us. He was hard to miss because of his height, his good looks, and at that time he had long dreadlocks (not a good look on a white guy, but we will chalk it up to his youth--he says he had them because he was "lazy").
So years, we'd run into each other, say hi, maybe have a short conversation. I never really was interested in him. I think this is because he was so tall, oddly enough. I liked tall guys (who doesn't?) but I'd had some bad experiences with other tall guys, so I was unconsciously steering myself away from guys with serious height. That, plus the fact that he had this very confident aura made me assume he would never be interested in me. I was having confidence issues at this time--the people I met were so cool and interesting and doing neat things, and I just thought I was so boring in comparison. I remember people talking to me and me thinking they must be bored, and gently trying to let them know they could go talk to someone else. I must have come off as incredibly standoffish.
During this time, for about five years I went out with someone else, who I hoped (rather than believed) I would marry. Our breakup was the second most traumatic event of my life, and as I discovered through the therapy I started to get over it, this was partly (mostly, really) because the breakup brought up all these feelings of loss and loneliness from my mother's death some 15-16 years before. It was really one of the worst times of my life. Maybe even worse than when my mother died, because I was an adult and I knew I had to rely on myself.
Therapy was a looooong process, but also an interesting one. (Where else do you get to talk about yourself nonstop for an hour?) I discovered lots of destructive patterns of thinking, especially when it came to my relationships. I probably didn't choose the right guys, but then I also had some insane expectations as well. Identifying these patterns was the easy part, it turns out. Changing them is much, much harder.
While I was doing this, I went out with someone else, E., that I knew I definitely didn't want to marry. In three and a half years, we never said "I love you." He is a wonderful person and deserves the best, but I was very clear that I was not in love with him. Was he in love with me? I'm not sure, but I doubt it. Why spend nearly four years circling the runway? All I can say is that it's what I needed at the time.
Because of E. we hung out with even more musicians and people in related professions, so I saw and hung out with S. a little more. I remember always being somewhat surprised when he made a point of talking with me (still having some confidence issues!), and I still didn't think about him romantically at all. This changed a little one night, when we were sitting next to each other at a big table at the Rainbo. E. was on the other side, but he couldn't hear us. We were flirting a little bit, and I said something daring like, "I like tall guys." (I was probably a little tipsy.) He looked at me and said, "And I like short girls." And there was a beat as we smiled at each other. I then changed the subject, but there was a little part of me inside that went, "Aha."
Later S. announced he was moving to Colorado, and that was the last I heard of him for a few years. I actually kind of forgot about him.
***
There is a lot of backlash against the idea that good thoughts bring good energy and the things that you want in life. But when "I want" comes from fear--when it actually means "I don't want"-- it's negative energy. I was saying, "I want a boyfriend/husband," but actually saying "I don't want to be alone forever." Paradoxically, I had to get OK with being alone forever before I could be with someone else.
And I did get OK with it. I had a revelation one day that my life wasn't so bad. I had friends around me and family that loved me, and a new nephew too. I could deal with that. I was grateful.
And that meant that I was ready to say "I want," not "I don't want." So I said it, very clearly and deliberately, at the beginning of 2011. I said I wanted a man who was
- kind to me
- funny
- wanted to be in a monogamous relationship
- wasn't completely broke (he didn't have to be rich, but I wanted someone who could match my lifestyle)
- and if he was tall that wouldn't hurt.
It didn't happen right away. I started going out with someone else. Actually I think this interim step was kind of important. He met the criteria, and I had hopes. But after about six months, when I asked him what we were doing, exactly (you know that conversation), it turned out we weren't in the same place. He was only up for something casual. I wasn't, so I bid him adieu. And I waited to be upset.
I cried a little, but--crucially--I did not feel desperate, like I would be alone for the rest of my life. It had been fun, but the guy wasn't into it, so it wasn't meant to be. Fine. I got back on my horse pretty much right away and started contacting more people on the dating site.
About a month or two after that, a friend invited me to an opening party for some of her photos, which were on display at a boutique. I remember feeling lazy, but I reminded myself that a lot of my friends would be there and socializing was important. So I hopped on my bike and went.
I chatted with some of my friends, admired the photos, ate some food. After a few hours, I was getting ready to go. I remember I was standing in front of a table with all of these perfumes, my back to the room. I wanted to try the perfumes before I left. Finally I turned around to leave and I saw S. standing at the food table. I don't know if he had seen me or not. Even then, I almost left without saying hello. I was kind of tired and had had enough. But--and this is such a cliche, but I swear it happened--a little voice in my head said, "Just go talk to him."
So I did. I wasn't even sure he would even really remember me. I wasn't even sure he knew my name, frankly. But he was very warm and glad to see me, and started telling me about the European trip he had just returned from. I remember that some other woman came over to say hello to him, and I thought about just saying "bye" and slipping out, but again, something made me stay put. The other woman eventually moved on, and after we chatted a little bit, S. said, "Actually I was hoping I'd see you here tonight."
It's not an exaggeration to say I was flabbergasted. I actually opened my eyes wide and blinked at him a couple times. I think my reaction surprised him, because then he got the deer-in-the-headlights look and changed the subject. So finally I said, "Well, we should go for a drink sometime." And he looked relieved and happy, and said, "Yes, I would like that."
Frankly I had to chase him a little bit after that--I think he was a little gun-shy of having a girlfriend after having had some, shall we say, overly emotional ones, from what he's told me. Finally I invited him to a party I was having and decided that if he didn't come, then at least I would know he wasn't really interested. But he did come, by himself--and as a friend of mine said later, that showed a lot of gumption. Suffice it to say he was the last one to leave that party, and we've been dating ever since.
Of course things aren't perfect, but I have discovered that I have become a lot more realistic about relationships. I used to expect so much from men I was in a relationship with, no one human could have satisfied me. I really gave them complete power over my happiness. I also somehow thought they they didn't have problems of their own, that they knew something I didn't about life or had things all figured out. I really put them up on a pedestal. Now I am much more accepting of their flaws and failures (and, probably not coincidentally, with my own).
By letting those things go, I have paved the way for a relationship that makes me deeply happy. I hope it will continue to do so for many--well, all--of the years to come.
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