A Different Kind of Feeling

Nine days ago I headed off to Boston for a bachelorette party, merely a (psychotically fun) stopping ground on the way to New Hampshire. I needed several days to work on a project there, and of course it didn't hurt to spend some time with the new boy of interest. I was a bit concerned during my travels that I was not excited enough about this prospect. I thought surely that was a bad sign, that said lucky boy might be fading into the past quite soon.

I was wrong.

Over the course of several evenings spent with the new guy I was able to confirm something I had noticed from the start: this one was different. I feel different with this guy. Yes, I realize I just used the same vague adjective twice in a row there, but I'm at a bit of a loss for words here. I've never felt anything quite like this before.

Some believe love happens when you meet the right person; others say the right person is the first one who comes along when you're ready. I guess there's a bit of truth to both. I feel like I've met the right person at the right time. I know the timing is significant because of the emotional growth we've both experienced in recent years- so maybe if it weren't the right timing it wouldn't feel this way, but if I felt this way but wasn't "ready" I sure as hell would GET ready pretty damn quick. (yes, bad grammer. intentional.)

What is "ready", anyway? I'm not sure how to define this emotional status, but we all know it when we're there and recognize it in those who are close to us. I have a good friend half-way across the country who knew this was coming. I could see it in the things he chose to talk to me about in recent months, and I could feel the anticipation in his voice when I called him last week. One thing this friend had told me has been lingering in the back of my mind for several months: he said when I meet the right person the physical stuff would take on a completely different context - less erotic and a lot more intimate. Well, this not being a porn site, I wouldn't want to heat you up with the details, suffice to say that he was right. To illustrate I will tell you that in the past, lingerie has always made me feel naughty and a bit contrived, and I've never been wholly confortable with it. With him it feels so natural. It's flirty and sensual and makes me feel beautiful rather than self-conscious... and there I will cut myself off. I think that's quite enough information, don't you?

The most amazing thing to me about this relationship is the ease of communication. I never wonder how to say something to this man; I never worry about how he will react. No moment is awkward between us, and believe me there have been opportunities. I don't know if my friends and family will wonder what I see in this man, and frankly I don't care. It is not just what I see in him, but what I see in myself when I'm with him that makes me a better person. People have always told me that when you meet the right person, you'll just know. I'm pretty cautious about big decisions, almost to a fault. Commitment scares the hell out of me until I really make up my mind, and I generally I just don't until I'm really sure about something- and would certainly not write about it like this! I don't care if you people think I'm jumping the gun; I could marry this man tomorrow and never look back.

Tread Softly

Remember when I talked about going on Match and telling you, my dear readers, all those sordid stories about the crazy dates I go on? Yeah, well, it looks like that might not be happening anytime soon. I guess I've gone and scewed up that plan by starting to see someone. My apologies if you were really looking forward to it, but I didn't exactly see a clamoring cheer section when I asked for input a few weeks ago.

Anyway, you know how it is when you first start dating someone. It's exciting, and you can't get said lucky-boy off your mind, and it's easy to get carried away with that, except when you're old like me and seen too many new loves to believe it. You start imagining what kind of future you might have with said lucky-boy; you don't want to get too far ahead of yourself, but when you're old like me you can't just live in the moment... there is no time to waste on a relationship with no future. And so you walk a fine line, dizzy and distracted and grinning wildly as you go, hoping for the best, but banking on the worst, and all the while trying to remember to enjoy the moment.

Said lucky-boy and I were attracted to each other when we first met six years ago, but we were both in relationships at the time. Plus there is a pretty large age gap, which I'm assuming would have been a much bigger deal back then... at least I know what I tell my 35-year-old guy friends when they start talking about 25-year-old girls: stay away - she's too young - she doesn't know what she wants - she'll break your heart. (Do they listen? No. But at least I try.) Interesting that we should meet up again, both single, now that I'm OLD (at this point you must know I'm fishing for you people to tell me that I'm still quite young... please?)

Said lucky-boy lives in NH. I know, I know. If things were to work out with him, I would not want to be a fly trapped in the room where my ex finds out I'm moving back to town and WHY. I hear he's doing pretty well on his quest to get over me lately, but still I would feel terrible. Good thing I shouldn't get ahead of myself. But yeah, I would definitely go up there. Not only does said lucky-boy have a business there that he established oh, right about the time I entered high school, but re-establishing my business there would be a snap. Also, I don't think I've ever mentioned this here before, but even though I now live in the town where I grew up, seacoast NH feels much more like home. Every time I go up there I feel so sad that I don't live there anymore. So really, I shouldn't feel bad if I ever move back there for another boy, especially when you consider that the boy I moved away from doesn't consider it home, at least not deep down in his heart.

Said lucky-boy doesn't know about my blogging habits. Not that I'm ashamed, mind you. Still it's nice to keep something like this on the DL for now... what if I want to write about him? I mean look, I'm writing about him right now and I don't have to worry about him reading and what he might think because he would never know to look for it. What if it doesn't last and there's a messy story to tell at the end? WHAT IF HE THINKS I'M A NERD? Yeah, we'll just keep this our little secret for now, shall we?

Do I Say Too Much?

"I understand the benefit to writing about your feelings, Rebecca. But why," asked RaRa (my grandmother) two weeks ago, "do you need to make it so public?" She seemed quite distressed about it. My cousin and I both tried to explain... but it's hard to know what to say when neither of us really understand why it upsets her so much. I consider the British concept of "airing your dirty laundry" and wonder if she feels it immodest to allow others to see one's true feelings. I wonder if she's simply concerned about the feelings of one or two people who might find offense with some of the things I've written. Still I fail to see the problem.

One of the ways I benefit from writing about my feelings on this blog is not having to bloody go into my personal life in detail every time I talk to friends or family members. Certain things can be difficult to explain, and rather than gloss things off or avoid the conversation entirely, I can always tell people to go read it on my blog if they really want to know. Not to be cold, but some things you just get sick of talking about if you know what I mean. Also many things (particularly matters of the heart) seem one-dimensional or, on the other side of the coin, too complex to relate in conversation, and take on a more vivid and cohesive understanding in written form. I used to pour out myt heart in exquisite detail in e-mails, only to have to cut & paste or start all over again or forget to tell the next friend. Certainly Ra herself never would have known/understood what went wrong in my last relationship or how I finally quit smoking without reading it on my blog... not that I wouldn't have wanted to tell her, but we can't always take the time. Is she saying I gave her too much information?

I have, in over a year of sporadic blogging, modified the amount of detailed information I include in my writing. I have learned to be more private in certain areas, and attempt to respect the privacy of others by using varying degrees of vagueness when discussing them. Still, I try to maintain a level of openess in reflection of a concept my cuz and I attempted to explain to our grandmother that day: who cares? Yes, my blog can be accessed by anyone in the world over the internet, but I can hardly consider that a global audience. Most people are not wondering about my life.

I am not so egotistical to think that my feelings and life experiences are that unique. This, in fact, is the true heart of the reason I feel the need to make them SO PUBLIC, as my grandmother has described. There are people who read this blog who have never met me, and yet they know me - to some extent - by the honesty expressed here in cyberspace. There are strangers who might land here via google or a comment thread, a link somewhere, or even the "next blog" button. These strangers might be logging in from California or Venezuela, North Dakota or Saudi Arabia, or even the next street over - neither of us would ever know. They might read or they might just pass me by for something in their language or with more pictures. Some might be bored with what I have to say, but every once in awhile, whether the person comments or not, someone relates to my written thoughts. Maybe it gives them insight to a struggle they have gone though or are trying to sort out now... or maybe it just assures them that they are not alone. Maybe it gets banked in the memory for a later date. Not that I think I'm actually helping people with my blog, mind you, or that most things I write about are that significant... but it's funny how much the same we all are, and how much we can learn from each others' experiences.

A great deal of fuss has been made lately about blogging in the professional world. It seems that blogs can hurt people in the job application process, and (in more rare cases) also help them. While I don't need to worry about being fired, I suppose I should consider whether blogging hurts my chances of being hired by clients... which is why I recently moved this blog. Still I don't feel the need to blog about things that ought to hurt such chances, like a bad client experience or something like that. I'm not sure what a potential client would glean from this blog aside from an understanding of who I am as a person... and if they don't like who I am enough not to hire me, I suppose l'd rather not work for them. Beyond this professional realm, I'm still struggling to understand what my dangers are.

I'm sorry if I offend with my open-ness... but I am not sorry about being open. If you wish to be more private with your own thoughts and feelings, no one is objecting... I only ask: why should I be more closed? Is there something objectionable to my honesty? I hereby challenge anyone who thinks I am too open and honest in my blog to follow my lead on that in the comment thread and tell me so - and WHY I SHOULD NOT BE.