As always, it’s been awhile.
It’s very nearly Christmas and I realize I never even got around to posting what I wrote around Thanksgiving, mostly because it was much of the same drivel as
a year ago and I never got around to coming up with something new. I made a crack about it being the blogs and my second Thanksgiving together, meaning it had lasted longer than any of my previous relationships, and then went on to talk about being grateful for the platonic relationships in my life and having the opportunity to build and cultivate them.
I am still quite thankful to have spent the bulk of my post-college life as a single woman; it’s given me the opportunity to be selfish, career-minded … and able to buy multiple pairs of shoes without being judged upon returning home. I have wonderful friendships that are my whole world, but we’ve been through all that and you don’t need to hear about
this or
this again.
Instead, I am going to beat another subject to death and say I’m quite grateful for Sparks.
This is what I wrote about the topic a week ago (before getting distracted from actually posting, yet again):
It’s been nine months since he became a semi-permanent fixture in my life and even though we have yet to re-consummate the affair that started back then, it’s been one of the happier “relationships” I have had. The long-distance banter and conversation are better than anything I have been able to find locally and the belief our paths will cross again gives me enough hope to be satisfied with the situation.
I’m currently reading this book (shocking, I know) which will inevitable spin me into a complete meltdown upon completion, but is in the meantime, giving me much to daydream and think about.
The Lost Girls is a true story about three friends who are feeling the pressure of looming 30th birthdays (sound familiar?) and choose to quit their jobs, leave everything behind and travel the world for a year, covering roughly 60,000 miles and four continents.
I have one continent remaining and have no idea how it will end, but a chapter I read last night struck a chord. Jen, one of the women in the book, met a man in Thailand, another American who was a friend of a friend, and they hit it off over what was supposed to a single drink while passing through town.
She left after three days not knowing when she would see him again, but confident in the faith of being able to nearly instantaneously feel love (and be loved). I can speak from experience in saying that feeling, even veiled by clouds of uncertainty, can do wonders for the soul.
Jen’s recollection of seeing Matt for the first time and the ensuing chemistry made me think back to the moment I first met Sparks.
I have never told anyone this, not even him, but I remember like it was yesterday. It was almost exactly four years ago and I was still at my previous job and Sparks was in town for an event. I was walking down the hall and saw this guy looking over reading material on the table and I felt a flicker of something I had never felt before, and have not felt since. I would never, ever call it love at first sight, but it was an attraction based on the simple feeling this man was supposed to be a part of my life, even before speaking to him.
If one were to stick Sparks in a lineup of men and ask my closest friends to pick out the one I would most likely be attracted to, he would probably not be the winner. He might not even make the Top 3. Despite that, I could never shake the feeling he was supposed to be around, so we established a professional relationship that would continue by email and occasional face time when we would cross paths, until nine months ago when on one cold winter night, a few beers led us to venturing into territory I think we both knew was three-plus years in the making.
From there, you know the story. Or at least what’s out there for public consumption.
And that’s where it ended. Now, a week later, I have a slightly different perspective.
After explaining the previous partial entry to a friend, finally telling the story of Sparks’ and my meeting out loud, she said to me “So you really believe he is the one?” and I was taken aback. I was partially surprised to hear she thought I was that much of a romantic, but I also had to analyze what I really thought about the situation.
I can now unequivocally say I do not believe in “The One,” Sparks or otherwise. I think the most any of us can hope for is the right one at the right time and all too often we find ourselves meeting the right one at the wrong time (or more often the wrong one at the right time or the wrong one at the wrong time).
Even if it makes me a bit of a romantic, I have spent nine months not wanting to accept or believe in the notion Sparks may simply be the right guy at the wrong time. It’s a strange feeling to have been so accurate in our initial meeting, especially because the reality of the connection far outweighed any fantasy, but to know the chances of long-term success is near impossible.
Sometime over the summer I forgot I wasn’t Katherine Heigl in [insert really, really bad rom-com] and latched onto the idea anyone who could make me as happy as Sparks did (and does still, sometimes) was worth just about anything.
Truth is, I’m not willing or able to change my life for someone else right now, no matter how great he may be. I still need to make significant changes for myself – there is no way I can expect someone else to love a version of me I don’t even always like. There doesn’t seem to be a way to halfway commit to someone seven hours or a $400 plane ticket away, so I am accept it is not going to happen. Timing is, after all, about 90 percent of a successful relationship.
And so this Christmas, at a time which is supposed to be full of hope, I am instead of letting go of a piece of it. Outside of the occasional drunk text, I cannot hold onto the hope of Sparks and me as an us. Even though my selfishness is probably at the root of a lot of the “problems” I currently have, I think it’s important to hold onto it a little longer.
With 10 minutes until I board the plane to go see my family for Christmas, I bid that particular piece of hope adieu.
I will forever be grateful to Sparks for helping me realize my heart is capable of feeling something resembling love and I think the sooner I can accept that is probably the extent of his purpose in my life, the better. If you had told me four years ago this is where we would be after our awkward introduction in a crowded hallway, I never would have believed it. But I think it’s probably exactly where we’re supposed to be. For now.
