Fear has been talked about as a key factor in how things were handled the past five years. Fear still waits over the hill, waiting to attack. One thing is figured out, discovered, admitted to, and dealt with. Then, the next shows up.
You are left having to figure out what next is. Starting over and over. You are the warrior at the end of the book. In your final moments, victorious. The villain defeated. Now you rest. Reap the rewards of your victory.
Walking down the hill, victory in hand, someone screams and points. There is another villain coming over the hill.
I struggled as boyfriend. Let us put that out there. It does not mean I was bad, but not always good. I like romance, buying gifts, making someone feel good. It is nice having someone to share moments with. Part of the issues may have been a slight addiction to falling in love (the other part a childhood full of baggage).
One of the fears of leaving the situation I was in had to do with my age. Was romantic love still possible? The sweet, fun, mushy, late-night talks, not being able to get off the phone, missing and anxiously waiting for the next time you are together kind of love. Even a bad situation still has a person there. Even if you do not really want them there.
The villain was cresting over the hill. Fear that love was no longer possible. Would it be more practical and straight forward? The carefree love you enjoyed in your twenties, replaced by boring adult love? This is not being hyperbolic. It was a driving fear. A concern of entering a new world.
A couple of nights ago, I met up with someone for a drink and conversation. Two divorced adults meeting on an app. Wondering if there was a connection in person.
She is very pretty. Independent. Smart. etc. Immediately, I felt my heart beating faster. A nervousness of not wanting to mess this up. The pressure to perform. Focused on the other person. Talk. Share. Be entertaining.
We gave ourselves an out before meeting. One drink. Hang out for an hour. We were there for 3 ½ hours. We only stopped because she wanted to get home to her daughter, and she worked early in the morning.
As we walked to her car, we passed mine. I had bought this flower for her. A little potted flower. Nothing extravagant. Just enough to put a smile on someone’s face. I was nervous and felt silly about giving it to her. I did. She lite up and said, “thank you”.
What happens next? Who knows? Maybe nothing. It could have just been a nice night for two people to get out of their routines. Two people that related to one another and shared a night. Two people that met online. Then in person. And that was that.
The result of that meetup, we will see. What did happen is an understanding that fear was again the villain coming over the hill. I the defender. A 3 ½ hour lesson that age has little to do with romance or feeling the feels.
It is hard not to feel, or think, or say I lost a decade being around a… less than desirable person. A lost decade to a… not great partner. That is my reality and truth for those years.
No matter what happened with that lost decade; no matter the reality and truth of it; no matter how you try and see or categorize it, that decade is not today day. That decade is the past. It was viewed differently as it was happening. Just as it was viewed differently during the divorce. Just as it was viewed differently after the divorce. It is viewed differently moment to moment, minute by minute, day by day. Determined by whatever is being thought about in that moment. Determined by whatever is going well or not well in life then.
Two nights ago had nothing to do with the past. It was the present. It was that moment. The moment when tired, scared, beaten down, worn out, walking down the hill, it was learned there is still fight in me. No, not fight. Nope.
It was learned there is more than a single fear influencing my thoughts. More fears lurking. Waiting to come over the hill. Those fears are the past.
The past is just that.
Posted. Not Perfect.
A Vegan Father… in the present.
A Better Father 