Young Sport

I WAS CLEANING MY DRAFT E-MAILS AND I FOUND THIS UNFINISHED MESSAGE


Young sport

You'll always have someone that thrills you more than me. More than the distant sense of invulnerability that you project on my faithfulness and adoration.

We live on the Horizon, how fitting — where the surface of the earth and sky appear to meet, but never touch.

There will always be another —
for there has always been another.

Tectonic plates shift beneath the surface of your desire. but I have made  peace with that now.
For you were born to fall in love.

I was an earthquake in your California.

Groom Candidate, not boyfriend.

Over the last couple of years I have found myself in the most awful position when it comes to dating. I get the feeling that women, who I’ve known and liked — excluding new people I’ve met, have come to regard me as this awkward crutch for their future: A sort of Plan B/escape route/fall guy.

It seems like I’m only seen as a  great resume and less as someone to foster a romance with. I’m everything they think they want for the future, but nothing they want yet — or ever worse, everything they want now.

To be fair, on paper, I’m not terrible:

• ·      Single, no commitments
• ·      College graduate
• ·      Career/ steady job
• ·      No kids
• ·      No debt
• ·      Never been married
• ·      Non-smoker, social drinker
• ·      No drug habits
• ·      Great relationship with my parents
• ·      Great relationship with brother
• ·      Family-oriented
• ·      Loves dogs, tolerates cats
• ·      Likes children, overall
• ·      Lives in New York

Truth be told, I pack a punch when it comes to the crazy. It’s not a surprise. It’s my instant disclaimer. I’m volatile, sardonic, blasé, arrogant and dogmatic.

Some may even say: je pète plus haut que mon cul.

But these women seldom care about discovery. Learning these quirks and mannerisms. What for, the CV is solid, no?

They establish a desire and magnetism, but then just as quickly place me (and other men, I mean it’s totally plausible) into either of the following categories: Cryogenic boyfriend or Instant husband.

In the Cryogenic Boyfriend type, women put me on some sort of layaway. Establishing how in the future…they would like to end up with a guy like me, probably me. Once they sort “themselves out” and become a better person, and all that bullshit. Not now — but in the future, yes. And forever? Definitely.

In the Instant Husband type, the rest of the women I know want to jump ship and abandon their current situation altogether — elope. Just run away with me to start a new and happy life.  Forget everything that makes them unhappy, and figure somehow things will work out beautifully as they do in Disney classics.

These situations stress me out. I’m not ready to commit to a future without learning the best way to avoid collapse. I want to be a boyfriend. Who gets into fights, and learns, adjusts, and re-learns.  I want that weekend trip. I want to describe the potential to my friends while inebriated on a Thursday afternoon. I want to tell my mom I’m happy, not — suddenly engaged.

I just want to embrace imperfection.

And dedicate my free time to kindling a trusted companionship.

I just want to be with someone that wants to be with me now, regardless of what the future may bring. And be here to go through the mechanics of dating and courtship. C’est impossible?