Windows

I received an email from a from a friend who after 15 years of living single is engaged to be married. Alone she’s done all the hard work– raised two fabulous children, got her master’s degree, worked up the academic ladder, perfected her skills as a gourmet cook, wine connoisseur, well-read in literature and politics, physically fit and spunky - she is an amazing woman. And now on the cusp of married life she finds herself in a quandary. She told me that her window of tolerance with cohabiting has grown remarkably small. She is speaking a language that I am beginning to understand.

When I was younger, and maybe a little bit more tolerable I could stand the stray sock two inches from the hamper, the wet towel thrown on the ground, a glass and it’s ring left on the coffee table, the slightly inebriated phone call at 11 to tell me he’d be late. Sure, some of these things grew more weary to tolerate but I was married and used to his idiosyncrasies. Now as I contemplate the idea of a relationship all those old memories come rushing back. After four years on my own, how small is my tolerance window?

No one asks me why I’m doing something or where I’m going. No one complains if I decide to vacuum the house at 10PM or 3AM or never. My closet, bedroom, bathroom, refrigerator all look like I want them to look. The only person who’s lost or misplaced something is me. If the garage is a mess I blame me. No gas in the car . . . me. All the yummy ice cream gone . . . me. If I want cereal for dinner the only person who can question that is me. And this Me is a pretty good roommate.

Now having said all that, Me is not always a good companion – sure she likes all the same TV programs I like, she goes to bed when I want her to, she never takes issue if I want to go to the gym, on a ride or to the store. She likes pretty much everything I buy – hardly complains if I spend too much. I don’t have to explain a lot to her and we never fight. But I know everything she is going to say even before she opens up her mouth. She never surprises me and hardly ever challenges or embarrasses me but too often she is opinionated and selfish. Most importantly, she’s an especially bad romantic partner.

Me can be a bit of a problem sometimes, especially as I explore the idea of being in relationship. For the most part I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be in relationship and I find that I don’t miss it nearly as much as I used to and sometimes that worries me. My window is narrowing.

What I do know is that by taking risks I grow emotionally, spiritually and physically. By engaging in relationship I would be taking a giant risk. As I entertain the thought of all of this I’m trying to explore what am I afraid of? Is my heart still full of armor? What am I frightened of giving up or in to?

And so I continue to fight to be open to the experience. So far there has been a lot of coffee dates, one more this afternoon (not good- too touchy feely). At the risk of sounding way too dramatic, I want to be on my death bed (hopefully a long, long time from now) with a thoroughly worn out body, a mind full of memories and an adventure to tell. The only way I can do that is to say YES to the unknown, the uncomfortable, the mysterious, the uncertain, and live in faith that it will all turn out.