Dinner Revelations

Last nite my friend Michele and I met for dinner. We treated ourselves to a gourmet feast at a local fine dining restaurant and it was just what the doctor ordered -- even if I really couldn't afford it this week.

Ah well, that's what bill payment grace periods are for, right? Besides, it was cheaper than therapy.

"You know, I always used to wonder what was wrong with me that I wasn't married," she said. "I used to think it must be something about me, that's prevented me from finding someone."

"Nooooo," I said. "I don't think that's it at all. I think its just that we're both independent, self-sufficient women and some men are intimidated by that and others can't live up to our standards. And we're picky."

"But maybe, then, that's what's wrong with US," she suggested.

There have been times over the last 15 years when I've longed to be married and settled and out of the single rat race.

There have been other times when I've embraced my singlehood and thought I wouldn't want to live any other way.

Truth is, I do want to find my soul mate; I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone, or taking care of two dozen cats. But I also refuse to settle or compromise my standards. I'd rather be alone, than coupled up with someone just to be coupled up. Or worse, coupled up and miserable.

Michele no longer believes she is single because of some fatal flaw, but rather, because right now, she's on a different path, and when the time is right, and the right person comes along, it will happen.

I agree with that philosophy. I believe certain things in our lives happen for a reason, some of which are out of our control, and that in the end, things will work out for the best.

And maybe I'm still single, because on many levels, I am quite content and happy that way, and when I truly need someone else in my life, I will find someone and become not single.

But what really was surprising about our dinner conversation, was that while it started with a discussion on men, relationships and our current status, it ended with me finding out that we had way more in common than we'd known.

We've known each other about 8 years now. She is loud, raucous, giggly, sweet, totally selfless and literally a ball of energy. I too am loud, raucous, sweet/nice, and while not giggly, usually walking around in a good enough mood and with a smile on my face.

The differences, Michele had always struck me as a person very in touch with her feelings and not afraid to show them; someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, a hugger, someone who was, quite literally an open book.

I on the other hand, am always very conscious of my emotions, not very toouchy-feely, and very reserved when it came to expressing anger, hurt, joy or any other feelings in front of others. I would literally sit in a movie theater with a lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball, rather than let anyone see me cry during a particularly heart-wrenching scene, and while very passionate when alone with an SO, refrained from public displays of affection the way one would avoid a rattlesnake.

While most who know me know I'm a good person and would describe me as very nice, I've also been referred to as tough, cold, hard, unemotional. This is because I refuse to show hurt feelings or let people know when they've gotten to me. I can watch a man walk out the door and drive away with a stiff upper lip, holding off on the tears until his car is no longer in sight. I can hold my own in any argument. I open my own doors and carry my own luggage. When someone says something to try to hurt me, I respond blandly or with an equally hurtful remark and a defiant look on my face -- one that doesn't reveal the pain the remark inflicted. And a part of me is proud of that.

I cried twice in front of my last serious boyfriend, and one of those times was the night we broke up. I had tried so hard not to, but it was a precarious balance and as I stooped down to pick up my purse off the floor, tears spilled out onto the top of my handbag. I couldn't stop them and once they fell, it was like the floodgates had been pulled back.

I'm guessing he probably still remembers that nite too, since I didn't just cry, I outright bawled. Loud, shaking sobs and my uttering my disbelief that the breakup was happening because I thought he had been The One. The first and only time I had admitted that to him.

It happened a long time ago, but the memories of it still open up the wound and make it throb with a pain so hurtful I still wonder how I got through that period. My ability to compartmentalize saved me. I got through my days acting as though everything were fine, and saving the tears and sadness for when I was home alone.

And last nite, in a conversation that started out kvetching about work, then moved onto boys and a philosophical discussion about why we wern't married yet, I learned that in the area of not showing emotion or vulnerability, Michele and I are two peas in a pod. She confessed to being the same way. I was shocked.

She traces it back to childhood, I hypothesize its life experiences. After discussing over a fabulous shrimp dijon appetizer, we came to the conclusion it was both. Both of us got this way because of how we were raised -- if you did something and it didn't turn out right, then it was your fault. You were expected to get good grades and always behave, and when something upset you, you were told not to act like a baby and stop crying and complaining.

She really hit the nail on the head when she said, basically, I think the reason we're like that is that we're afraid to be vulnerable -- because we were taught not to be, or not to let anyone see you cry or act afraid or fail.

She's right. I am afraid to be vulnerable; I'm afraid to show weakness and I'm afraid to fail, because in my past, failure brought on criticism -- personal, professional or romantic.

In hashing this topic, we hypothesized that maybe THAT's why we're still single. Because we always try to be perfect ourselves, we're looking for an SO that can live up to the perfectionist standards we hold ourselves too. And of course, that person (man) doesn't exist.

We also want someone who will be the opposite of us -- who will be loving, not be afraid to express emotion, who can get us to let our hair down sometimes, and who will somehow magically be able to understand why, and not mind, that we don't reciprocate.

"We're our own worst enemies," she said, and again, she was right. I obviously am good at my job. I hold an executive position, have gotten good yearly reviews, and oodles of compliments from my higher ups. And yet, most days, I leave my office, thinking "I should've, could've, have to do .....better."

Even though everyone else around me is thrilled with the results.

I'm hardest on myself. Michele says she is too.

Our conversation made me think -- and I realized that it gave me a better understanding of myself and why I might be the way I am and how my mindset could actually be hindering me. I sometimes have less fun than those around me because I'm afraid to let go, I can be judgemental, by strictly adhering to my standards, I'm not being open to some possibly great experiences.

Over the past few years, I've been working on some things. I now not only voice my appreciation for gifts, but show it too. I've gotten more huggy with friends, tried to be a bit more open and emotional with family members. I let people help me with things even if I don't really need the help because I know it makes them feel good and takes me out of my Super Woman mode. And I let myself cry at sad movies -- right there in the movie theater for anyone to see. That is a HUGE step.

And I've become more open. And that is a very good thing. See, a few years back, I never would have admitted my fear of vulnerability to Michele. Never would have commiserated with her about our shared hard cores and emotional toughness. That means I've grown -- in a good way. It also means, some of the layers are coming off, and I'm letting more people in.

Hopefully, by the time I meet my soul mate, the door will be wide open. And I won't be afraid to cry, hug, laugh, kiss, sing, dance or any multitude of things with abandon. In the meantime, I'll keep working on that hard core -- try to show my human side more often -- and in the process, live life more fully and with more feeling.