Ridin' Solo

"Jack" and I are officially broken up, and I am now back on the market (though that seems sort of self-deprecatory to say...I'm not merchandise, after all).  It was perhaps the calmest, shortest, and most mutual break up that I have ever experienced.  Though looking back, I'm thinking that it might have also been the most subtly passive aggressive.  But I'll explain that later.

There are numerous good things about this break up.

First, I do not have to shave as often.  This is a major plus because as much as I hate hairy legs, I also hate shaving.  Additionally, I am remarkably bad at it, considering the fact that I've been practicing for the last 17 years.  (It's the knees.  Always the knees.)

Second, I no longer have to devote one night per week to the same person.  I don't mean that in a selfish way; I simply mean that it is difficult to constantly explain to people that (a) I cannot come because it's the night I see "Jack" or (b) "Jack" is not coming because he works a lot and I only see him once a week.  Having a fixed "date night" means I'm forced to sacrifice fun things and/or alone time with the person I'm dating.  I prefer a little more flexibility.

Third, I do not have to stay up late or sleep in just because my significant other does so.  I don't particularly like being awake at 3am, nor do I enjoy wasting away the morning in bed.  I recognize that others have different opinions on this, and I respect them.  But they are not mine.

Fourth, I do not have to spend all of my therapy session every other week talking about one person.  Because I have other things in my life, thank you very much, and those are important, too.

Fifth, I do not have to feel guilty for wanting to play volleyball or hang out with my friends as frequently as I do.

It is pondering on this fifth point that I began to realize that perhaps the break up was not as mutual or as lacking in blame as I originally thought.  There was a point in our very brief conversation, where "Jack" said that he felt that we were nearing a point where we might begin to accuse the other of being selfish.  At the time, I thought nothing of this, but paired with another comment of his ("You have too many hobbies, and I work too much"), I'm beginning to think he was actually a little pissed at me, that he was gently accusing me of playing too much volleyball.  Which is probably true, but I happen to love it, as well as the people I've met playing it.  I suppose the solution is to date a volleyball player.  Or at least someone who doesn't mind that I spent at least 6 hours a week on the game.


There are a few costs to being single.  Not many in this particular case, but a few.

First, my intake of physical affection will be sorely limited with the passing of this relationship.  At least for now.

Second, I can no longer frequent the bar that "Jack" manages.  A shame because it's actually a cool place.  But I don't want spit in my drink.

Third, and most importantly, I will still have to see his mother at work, and I don't know how she'll react to the news.

Of course, the fact that it ended up being a calm and mutual break up will probably make the latter easier to manage.  We realized that we were too different, and as such, we allowed ourselves to take our own separate paths from here on out.  She can't fault me for that.  Right?  (Fingers crossed on this one.)


With my grandfather's passing this past week--and all of the self-reflection that it kicked up--I knew that I couldn't stay in a relationship that, to be blunt, bored me.  I no longer looked forward to seeing him.  I no longer waited for him to call.  We no longer had anything to say.  While there were plenty of great things about dating "Jack," one of the most important was being able to recognize the difference between dating likes, preferences, and needs.

I need someone caring and thoughtful (no jerks).
I need someone who is independent and confident in himself.
I need someone who doesn't mind my volleyball addiction.
I prefer someone who listens to the same music I do and/or reads similar books to those I read and/or watches similar movies/tv shows to me, etc.  We need some sort of art-related commonality.
I prefer someone who eats meat (If he cooks, even better!).
I prefer someone who has similar religious beliefs.
I prefer someone who has a similar sense of humor.
I prefer someone who has a similar level of education.
I prefer someone who is in good physical shape.
I prefer someone who makes me laugh, and in turn, will laugh at my jokes.
I prefer someone who likes kids and wants to have kids.
I'm looking for someone who is good and strong and ambitious and upright and generous.
I'm looking for integrity and honesty and purpose.


And with these thoughts in mind, I reembark on my journey as a single almost-30-something.  I hope that there will be plenty of fun stories to share with you, but hopefully also someone out there that's worth more than a laugh.  Time will tell.