She's nobody's baby now.
Nov. 29th, 2001 12:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpI don't have a girlfriend. I'm not anyone's girlfriend. There is an odd sort of comfort in this, especially given certain circumstances, especially considering where I am, and where I've been, and where I still need to go.
It's not that she's not girlfriend material. Hardly so. It may not even be that /I/ am not girlfriend material, though I'm not so sure on that one. Maybe someday. But not now. Too many issues. Too much baggage. Too many factors. Too high a stress level. Too intense a need to individuate.
For five and a half years I've been 'Jude and Someone' with the same person. Part of a duo. An amalgam of two persons, two sets of needs, two distinct agendas that were supposed to, somehow, also work as one agenda. One agenda turned out to be me casting my agenda aside for another person. /Our/ agenda, in actuality, was his agenda. No one's fault but my own.
The time has come where the focus is me. MY agenda, MY needs, MY wants. I'm finishing school. I'm writing again, albeit in small amounts and tough going. I'm going to find a job that I want and move to a place that I want without consideration of where the partner wants to live, to where the partner thinks is safe or desirable or nice. 2002 is coming, and it's All About Me. Selfish? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely.
I was telling someone today that this whole experience, the whole 'dissolving a marriage/partnership and finding the individual self again' is a lot like coming out all over again. It's been so long since I wrestled with those issues, or at least it seems like it, that the whole concept of going through it again is mind boggling. But that's the closest comparison, easily. I want to /do/ everything, /try/ everything. I'm hesitant to rule something out, or to delve too deeply into something for fear that it will negate or exclude a possible opportunity. How many times have I said, "If I'm ever single, I'll..."? Now I am. And I feel that I need to do all of the things I've said I wish I could for 5.5 years. Or more.
When A. and I got together, I did it on the pretense that the relationship wouldn't get serious. "Oh, we'll date, but it won't get /serious/." This is how I justified "dating one more boy." And then that became, "I'll still have time to date women before I commit for life." And then A. was asking me to commit for life, and I accepted. Because I was in love. Because I wanted to honor him. Because I would have done anything for that boy. And all of a sudden, all of my promises to myself, all of the experiences I missed (because, let's face it, smooching chicks in bars and clubs is /not/ the same as trying to, you know, form relationships with them), I'd tossed them all out the door. Were they important? Absolutely. Were they part of "our agenda?" Hardly. Out they went.
Mikey says, in The Goonies, "The next time you see sky, it'll be over some other town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want what's best for us. And it's their time... up there. Down here it's our time, it's /our/ time down here. That'll all change the minute we take a ride up Troy's bucket."
It's MY time. Down here. Troy, or whoever is above ground at the top of the wishing well, is offering me a bucket called "relationship." But I still need time to explore the booty twaps, copper bones triple stones, escape the octopus, and be saved by my Pinchers of Peril. The Fratellis are down there, sure, and there's a chance I could end up like Chester Copperpot, but I need to try. This second chance I have could very well be my last Goonie weekend, and I need to try to save the Goondocks before the "richest people in Astoria" turn my house into a sand trap ("and never get their balls out!").
Wow. I must be tired, and I must have written two terrible papers, if I'm analyzing my life using The Goonies. Feck. Somebody stop me.
Anyway, I've lost the point of this, except that I need to go this one alone. And in the process, unfortunately, I could be passing up some wonderful opportunities. And there may be someone who "got away." But I think that the bigger casualty would be if the one that "got away" was me. Again.
It's not that she's not girlfriend material. Hardly so. It may not even be that /I/ am not girlfriend material, though I'm not so sure on that one. Maybe someday. But not now. Too many issues. Too much baggage. Too many factors. Too high a stress level. Too intense a need to individuate.
For five and a half years I've been 'Jude and Someone' with the same person. Part of a duo. An amalgam of two persons, two sets of needs, two distinct agendas that were supposed to, somehow, also work as one agenda. One agenda turned out to be me casting my agenda aside for another person. /Our/ agenda, in actuality, was his agenda. No one's fault but my own.
The time has come where the focus is me. MY agenda, MY needs, MY wants. I'm finishing school. I'm writing again, albeit in small amounts and tough going. I'm going to find a job that I want and move to a place that I want without consideration of where the partner wants to live, to where the partner thinks is safe or desirable or nice. 2002 is coming, and it's All About Me. Selfish? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely.
I was telling someone today that this whole experience, the whole 'dissolving a marriage/partnership and finding the individual self again' is a lot like coming out all over again. It's been so long since I wrestled with those issues, or at least it seems like it, that the whole concept of going through it again is mind boggling. But that's the closest comparison, easily. I want to /do/ everything, /try/ everything. I'm hesitant to rule something out, or to delve too deeply into something for fear that it will negate or exclude a possible opportunity. How many times have I said, "If I'm ever single, I'll..."? Now I am. And I feel that I need to do all of the things I've said I wish I could for 5.5 years. Or more.
When A. and I got together, I did it on the pretense that the relationship wouldn't get serious. "Oh, we'll date, but it won't get /serious/." This is how I justified "dating one more boy." And then that became, "I'll still have time to date women before I commit for life." And then A. was asking me to commit for life, and I accepted. Because I was in love. Because I wanted to honor him. Because I would have done anything for that boy. And all of a sudden, all of my promises to myself, all of the experiences I missed (because, let's face it, smooching chicks in bars and clubs is /not/ the same as trying to, you know, form relationships with them), I'd tossed them all out the door. Were they important? Absolutely. Were they part of "our agenda?" Hardly. Out they went.
Mikey says, in The Goonies, "The next time you see sky, it'll be over some other town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want what's best for us. And it's their time... up there. Down here it's our time, it's /our/ time down here. That'll all change the minute we take a ride up Troy's bucket."
It's MY time. Down here. Troy, or whoever is above ground at the top of the wishing well, is offering me a bucket called "relationship." But I still need time to explore the booty twaps, copper bones triple stones, escape the octopus, and be saved by my Pinchers of Peril. The Fratellis are down there, sure, and there's a chance I could end up like Chester Copperpot, but I need to try. This second chance I have could very well be my last Goonie weekend, and I need to try to save the Goondocks before the "richest people in Astoria" turn my house into a sand trap ("and never get their balls out!").
Wow. I must be tired, and I must have written two terrible papers, if I'm analyzing my life using The Goonies. Feck. Somebody stop me.
Anyway, I've lost the point of this, except that I need to go this one alone. And in the process, unfortunately, I could be passing up some wonderful opportunities. And there may be someone who "got away." But I think that the bigger casualty would be if the one that "got away" was me. Again.
