The Love Spiral

Trying to open myself up to dating after 3 years of dateless, blissful, peaceful single-hood

My dog Indy sat beside me in the passenger seat on our drive home from the mountains, as he usually does. The evidence of his permanent residence there woven into the worn fabric. I crack the window so we can both enjoy him sticking his head out into the breeze but he’s too tired from our hike so he collapses against the door of the car, looking like a blob with a head, resting his chin so gently on the windowsill to take in the wind without the effort required by standing.

I steal glances at him every few minutes and smile, bursting with love. I can’t imagine anyone else sitting there. What would it be like? If there was a person I loved taking that place more often than Indy? Why can’t I remember what it was like before? Three years ago, five years ago? Why can’t remember anyone else ever being by my side? What would it be like if I fell in love again, if I brought someone new into our peaceful, stable, fulfilling lives?

If I think about it, I love when (on occasion) Indy rides in the backseat too. When I have a friend in the car or a pile of unorganized chaos thrown in the passenger seat, he settles easily into the back and rests his little chin on my shoulder or his snoot by my elbow on the center console.

But the passenger seat is his spot. It’s how I picture myself in the car if I close my eyes. It’s how I feel comfortable even if I’m trying so, so hard to imagine a different future for myself. One with someone holding my hand beside me or at least waiting for us at home.

I’ve spent the entirety of my life closed off to the idea that anyone would want to date me. Despite spending near a decade of life between 3 back to back long term relationships, I’ve never been attuned to flirting, never believed someone could have a crush on me and in some ways, clutching onto that mindset gave me the permission to not let myself yearn for anyone. If I don’t have wants then there’s no disappointment, no rejection, no miscommunication. If I don’t want anyone then I can’t be hurt when they don’t want me. If I tell myself I’m undesirable and unattractive then it doesn’t hurt when I hear it from someone else.

(cue: Phoebe by Audrey Hobert)

I’ve spent years grieving the fact that I’ll never know romantic love, that I’ll most likely spend the rest of my life alone. Many a mental breakdown behind the wheel of my car after leaving a large function when I’m the only single person in the room melted me into a place of acceptance in my solitude. Of love even, I truly love being alone. I love the peace, the fun, the introspection, the lack of judgement, the freedom to do whatever I please without a second thought. I love how beautifully I fill my own time, the love I can find in my own arms. After three years of singlehood, nothing really feels like it’s lacking in my life. In some ways, I feel like I have the better deal than some of the partnered people around me. My body shutters at the idea of being trapped in a partnership. But there’s a whisper in my head and I can’t help but be curious.

Two months ago the whispers won and I started toying with the idea of dating. What if I want it? What if I want to be in love? What if I want to hold someone’s hand? What if I want someone waiting for me at the end of the hike or even on the hike with me? What would it feel like to be in a healthy relationship?

My therapist says healthy love should feel like freedom, not a cage. My brain says run the hell away. My brain says they seem great now but give them a month. My brain says we’re fine on our own.

In the three years I’ve been single, I’ve only been asked out on a date one time (by a kind of weird man at the climbing gym). The lack of interest when I wasn’t looking made me itch with anxiety about my new found curiosity. What if I want to date and no one wants me?

But if the universe has showed me anything lately, it’s that is not true. There are plenty of people who have told me that they’d be happy to have the opportunity to date me. I’ve stumbled uncomfortably over a handful of rejections and “I’m just not really in the right place to date right now”s. I’ve looked into kind eyes and berated myself for not being able to say yes for no reason except that it just didn’t feel right. I’ve felt like a middle schooler endlessly spiraling with my friends about if I should give someone a try just because they’re nice and cute even if I don’t feel any chemistry. Even if my gut doesn’t scream yes. Even if my mind doesn’t reel with curiosity about them.

Because how can I trust this mind? how can I trust this gut who screamed yes for so many people who did me harm? How can I be sure I actually like someone?

I said “I think I want to date” and the universe said “here’s some options” and I stood frozen after I said no after no because that just leaves me with sad, humbling reality that there’s no excuse to hide behind why I haven’t dated since my last relationship.

All that’s left is me.

That I can’t do it, that I’m incapable of making space in my life, that I’m so closed off I can’t open my heart, that I’ve spent so long teaching myself not to yearn that I can’t tell when I’m attracted to someone anymore, that I’m too scared to even try. What if the problem isn’t that no one has wanted to date me for 29 years but that I haven’t let them for a second even think I could be an option? What if I’ve spent years with my head in the storm clouds berating myself for all the reasons I’m unlovable while lovely people stood by trying to get me to see their offers for an umbrella?

Logically I know no amount of hands held out would have gotten me to this place any sooner. I needed to be alone and come to a place on my own where I can believe I’m lovable, desirable, worthy. I needed to come to a place where I stopped waiting to get chosen and realize I get to choose too. I needed to come to a place where I’m so content on my own I’m no longer willing to go with the first person who offers me a crumb. Or the second. I needed to become so familiar with myself I forget how I be anything but pure me.

If the past two months has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes you have to stop thinking and start feeling. That I have to start believing I know what right feels like, I know what good feels like, and I can bring in rational and logical thinking after establishing that to refine my decisions. It’s that a date is just a date and it doesn’t need to be the “right person” to say yes to one shared experience together. It’s that it’s okay to trust your gut to say no to a perfectly lovely and nice human while still being open for the right person to come along. It’s okay to have crushes and to feel juvenile spending a little bit of your mental energy debating whether or not there was a vibe. In some ways, I feel like I’m learning to date for the first time in my life at 29. I’m learning to yearn and be open to connection without giving it too much mental weight. I’m learning to not take it personally when someone doesn’t ask for my number. I’m learning to enjoy a connection and to let it blow away easily when logic says it would be best to in the long run.

I’m learning that I want someone in the passenger seat next to me (at least some of the time.) The age old cliche rings true, there is no love without loss, and if I want to find out what healthy love feels like, I need to let the walls down and be willing to get hurt.

Two months into my spiral and I can breathe again. I’m not second guessing the no’s I’ve given. I’m not trying to figure out why I felt so connected to someone I’ll never see again. I’m not trying to decipher what attraction feels like, I can recognize it now. I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little scared to say I feel open to it truly and finally now. I’d be lying even more if I didn’t say I really debated deleting the previous sentence because it makes me cringe rereading it. But more than that, I feel a little excited. Maybe nothing ever happens. Maybe I never say yes. Maybe I never hear a yes after I ask. Maybe the gut and the logic never align but maybe at one point it will. I’m potentially opening myself up for bad first dates and awkward town sightings and heart break but I’m also opening myself up to something I’ve never experienced before and there’s nothing I love more than new experiences. I’ve spent three years in therapy to make sure I don’t repeat the mistakes of the past so don’t I owe it to myself to have the opportunity to do better?

This time around, I don’t need romantic love, I don’t miss it or crave it deep in my soul the way I did when I was younger, but I want to know what it can feel like and it’s time to be open to try.