A Reminder

Now I remember why I don't do "relationships". The wondering, the "what ifs", the emotional wall starting to slightly crumble, the sliver of vulnerability creeping back in, the rush of excitement, heart beating faster, stomach flip flopping mess of it all.

I used to be the poster child for relationships. I was that "Relationship Girl" whom after breaking it off with someone (or vice versa) was almost immediately in another one. I jumped from relationship to relationship without giving myself the chance to get over the previous one, or process what just happened, what I learned from the experience, what I liked. No, no. I always shoved it all aside and flung the whole tangled mess to the dark recesses of my mind, where the relationship leftovers lay dormant, until my heart and mind decided to regurgitate the shreds into my life again. I nurse my heart aches eons after they are over.

After my relationship with The Athlete ended, something inside me changed. I stopped being Relationship Girl. Instead I felt like a feral cat who just couldn't be tamed. Someone who would lash out at the mere idea of being emotionally close to someone again. Back me into a corner and I'd shut down.

Sure, I tried to give guys a chance. The Dreamer and The Manchild took place post-Athlete. But as fun as they were, they just confused me and made me unsure as to what it was I really wanted. What did I want? What did I need? Who was the real "Relationship Me"? I only recently realized that I had no idea.

A year ago, I was a fresh-faced college grad working a new job. I wanted to feel grown up. I wanted to change myself, my ways, my lifestyle. I wanted a complete emotional makeover. I met someone who fascinated me, was mature, funny, and smart. With this crush I was like a moth to light despite being utterly terrified and in awe of him. I'm talking clammy palms, I-think-I-swallowed-a-bowling-ball kind of feeling. Which had never happened to me before. The fascination? He had something that I didn't, and I desperately wanted to have it.

And then I met other people, male and female who through our friendship made me see things in myself that I didn't like; things that I wanted to change. These people really inspired me to close the gap from where I was to where I wanted to be. I'm not totally there yet, but I'm damned close. And I'm trying so hard.

There was a period last year from late January through mid March where I rarely saw my friends or interacted socially with others. I became a recluse, hiding in my parent's basement, unhappy and mentally tormented, needing to figure out who I was. What did I stand for? How did I want to portray myself? Who am I?

Since then I've been a work in progress. I'm only 24, I know it won't happen overnight. But I can honestly look back on the person I was a year ago and think of the person I am today, and really recognize how much I've grown. How much I've changed, and how much better my attitude and life really is. I've learned to accept that I have flaws, that I can be annoying, that I sometimes make poor decisions. Life isn't black and white to me. There can be a gray area. And I am coming to terms with that.

Which leads me back to square one. I've been really comfortable being single, not answering to anyone, learning how (for the first time) to be COMPLETELY independent. I haven't dated anyone seriously since The Manchild, and that ended in August 2006. And that is ok with me. Ever since moving back to Chicago, I have never been in any sort of dating drought. I've gone gone out with at least four different guys since last September. But it never works out.

Why? Because I am SO PICKY. I instantly try to find something wrong with them. I constantly look for reasons why he and I just wouldn't work.

"I don't like his hair", or "he kind of dresses like a slob" or "he wouldn't get along with my family" or "he has such crappy taste in beer."

Imagine my absolute shock when someone managed to wrestle all of these worries and judging ways out of my head. Someone began to figuratively tame me as I dragged my heels through my emotional mire trying to slow it down.

I will refer to him as The Enigma. Reasons for this will possibly be explored at a later date but I don't feel like getting into it right now. He and I talked on the phone and/or texted each other every day for a month before going on our first date. For someone who is super skittish, this is a very good thing. I don't relinquish my trust with men very easily. You really have to earn it.

Flash forward to March 8th, our first date. We went to The Signature Room Lounge on the 96th floor of the John Hancock. Second date? Sushi and a movie. Third? Dinner at Brazzaz, an amazing Brazilian Steakhouse. Fourth date was at my apartment, where I, Kayleigh MADE DINNER (Ed. note: I don't cook for others. Ever. So this was a big deal to me) and he came over. I'm talking marinated pork tenderloin, cheesy potatoes, Paula Dean's asparagus, wine, and dessert. I'm talking big time.

He is cultured and smart and inquisitive and thoughtful. Every single date has been the best I've ever had. And once we met for the first time we never let more than 5 or 6 days go by without seeing each other again.

We talk every day. He calls me on his way home from work, lets his two cats meow symphonies into my ear before bed, texts me "sweet dreams" and "I can't wait to see you again". He emails me while I'm at work, and we swap office stories and chit chat. We never ever run out of things to talk about. Each date lasted at least 6.5 hours. When he pulls his car up in front of my apartment building we always end up talking for an additional 2 hours or so. He opens my car door, pulls out my chair for me, and to be quite honest acts like he's my boyfriend. After the dinner night, he stayed until 2:30 in the morning, just sitting on my couch talking to me. He was rubbing his eyes in exhaustion but still didn't try to leave, despite it being a work night. We just have so much to say.

My friends that have heard me answer the phone when he calls notice that my demeanor and tone of voice totally changes when I talk to him. I hang up the phone and get incredulous stares and comments of "you totally have a boyfriend, don't you?". And truth be told? I'm not sure, but the idea is starting to grow on me.

He and I are moving at the speed of a tortoise, which is crucial for a person such as me who shies away from all things coupley. In turn I savor what is happening between us, and relish spending time with him and hearing his voice.

But suddenly I grow fearful. Over the course of this last weekend it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks: that I LIKE him. That over the course of two months I haven't really just merely enjoyed his company and daily phone calls from a safe emotional distance- no. This weekend it struck me that I've started to somewhat rely on them. To look forward to his calls, to hope that he asks me to go out on a date with him this coming week. And once I realized I felt this way I felt terrified. It's finally happening again. I want him to call me. I want to hear his voice. The wall is starting to crumble again and in my head I'm like "omfg ahhhhh what the hell is going on hereeeee!!!" kind of stuff.

And this past weekend he barely talked to me (hello, busy with family stuff) and in turn here I am Monday sitting at work feeling like an animal licking her wounds. I suddenly feel very insecure emotionally since I discovered that my foolproof plan failed me somehow. That somehow this man finagled his way past the barricade and stormed the gates. The dynamic suddenly feels like it has drifted off course, a sinking feeling in me growing stronger by the day. That something, somehow, just isn't right. A sneaking suspicion, a faint idea, a gut-wrenching feeling.

I really hope that things keep coasting the way they were. I hope that this doesn't turn out to be something sad. It's just all so very delicate. I'm left feeling like I'm gasping for air, swimming to the surface before my lungs burst.

I just have to remember that everything happens for a reason.