Captain’s Log, 9/15/14: Storm’s A-Brewin’

Tags: dating, emotional intimacy, juggling

Oh boy, I’ve gotten myself into a situation. Or rather, I should say: Oh men, I’ve gotten myself into three.

These past two weeks have been a whirlwind of emotion, confusion, and frustration. I’ve been reeling from one guy to the next, never certain where my heart lie or if it was even involved. Dear Ángel fell to the wayside as I reconnected with Speakeasy from the past, and then in stormed the Meteorologist from my even more distant past. They’re coming out of the woodwork! – an idiom that has been all too prevalent the past few days. 

As Ángel arrogantly said about the women in his life: “When it rains, it pours.” Though I’m pretty sure it’s still sprinkling for him… a drop on his proverbial windowpane while I’m over here getting drenched.

But I’m not here to brag. In fact, my heart is precariously balanced, strained in multiple directions as I continue to meet wonderful people that fulfill certain needs, but never all needs at once. If only I could mash these three into the perfect man, I could get on with my life!

So here’s the backstory:

Ángel and I were getting along quite well actually, though his insecurities and overall immature qualities surfaced rather quickly (just you wait – I have a great “date” story to post). He was often fishing for compliments and needed reassurance; he needed constant reminders that I was thinking of him throughout the day. I also realized I was still swooning over a man I had met two months previous: enter Speakeasy.

It only took one date with Speakeasy and I fell pretty hard (future post: how I scored this date). Speakeasy has his shit together: he’s confident, is very clear about his needs, and goes for what he wants. Finally, I’ve moved beyond the boys, skipped right over guys, and crashed hard into the realm of men. MEN. No more games, no more riddles; everything is real. I’ve had two dates with Speakeasy since we reconnected and he’s been on my mind constantly – that is, until Friday night.

That fateful evening, September 12, 2014, I had planned an innocent night of indulging in television and cleaning my apartment before leaving for Portland the following morning. Instead, however, I received the Snapchat that would change my life forever.

It read, “Art is hard.”

And based on this simple misunderstanding of an earlier snap, my mind reeled into a state of irresolution. It wasn’t that text, per say, so I won’t explain what prompted it, but what followed was an explosion of four years of very intense feelings I had been suppressing. Both he and I were perpetually engaged in our own separate versions of serial monogamy, so I never dreamed I would pursue the Meteorologist. Our discussion that evening resulted in a shocking realization as some very real emotions floating in the hazy peripheral suddenly shot into focus. It hit me harder than expected; struck by lightening, if you will.

Instantly my mind leapt from Speakeasy and was fully occupied by the Meteorologist. The guy I met in the most intimate circumstances, the guy to which I credit my deeper understanding of music theory, the guy whom I’ve held in my heart since the moment I approached him on the lawn in Lincoln, Nebraska in 2010.

The dynamics of our conversation Friday night were so different from anything else I have experienced recently. Having already established a strong friendship and having had communicated somewhat regularly over the years, we were able to immediately explore issues relevant to our current situation. We were able to sort out this new understanding of what our friendship means to us and to discuss how we saw ourselves moving forward post-revelation. Though he lives 500 miles away, I haven’t felt such strong intimacy with a person in years.

So where does that leave Speakeasy? Both men hold qualities that are deeply important to me, but there are a few snafus:

  1. I know the Metorologist intimately, Speakeasy has yet to be explored
  2. There lie several miles between the Meteorologist and I, while I can bike to the Speakeasy

Therefore, nothing is resolved. Is it ever? Things just shift and morph, twist and turn, destroy and create, leaving the old unrecognizable. I think it’s important my current focus remain on Speakeasy, exploring this fascinating person and giving him a fair chance in the hurricane of my dating life. But before we get too serious, I do plan to spend a few days with the Meteorologist to see what sort of weather we can predict…

Over and out — Capt.Crème

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