What’s In A Number?

4/17

The date once again smacked me in the face with a harsh reminder of exactly where I am in my life. It’s a number that’s held significance for me for about the past 15 years. Damn that’s a long time.

It was college. I was dating someone, as usual. Attracted to someone else, as usual. I always wondered what would have happened if I’d followed my heart and pursued her. Ended the relationship I was in that was doomed for failure anyway.

It was a largely meaningless number, but I associated it with that girl I’d never pursued. I couldn’t stop thinking about the what-if. It came to represent that longing for what I knew I wanted. That unfulfilled potential. I started to see it everywhere – house numbers, price tags, part numbers at work. It always reminded me of that desire that hadn’t been fulfilled. I knew when it stopped holding significance, I’d found my person.

Once upon a time – April (the fourth month) of 2017, to be exact – I met someone who satisfied that longing. It seemed meant to be for too many reasons to count – the most beautiful aligning of paths I ever could have asked for. But it didn’t last. Maybe it was too much too fast. Maybe we were too different at our cores. Maybe I’d never really know.

Eventually, that number just came to represent my seemingly futile struggle to find my partner. A reminder that I was essentially no further along than I was at the beginning.

It seems telling that I look at it that way. “No further along”. Like that’s the only thing that matters. I mean, it has always seemed like the most important thing. Like I need to accomplish that task first before I can really move on to anything else.

When we were growing up, Mom had one of those framed inspirational lists hung on our wall. This one proffered the keys to a happy life, conveniently ordered 1-10.

Number 1 – Marry the right person

That always stuck with me. I’d seen my parents go through a divorce, and my mom go through the struggles of dating while raising three (probably not the most well behaved) boys until she finally found what she was looking for – something she knew was what she wanted. The difference in her happiness was palpable, and I knew that list was on to something.

I think back on that period of my life, some 20+ years ago, and wonder how it came to be that I’m 36 years old and spending my Friday night left swiping dozens of people I decide at a glance aren’t compatible with me. I have so many questions about how I got to this point in my life.

For years, I was a serial monogamist. From one relationship right into the next, I could see the good in anyone. I stayed in relationships I knew deep down I shouldn’t. Out of guilt, uncertainty, complacency. I was even engaged at one point. I sometimes wonder whether I made the right decision calling it off. Whether I could have gotten over my doubts and the shortcomings of our connection, and be living in a happy fulfilled partnership right now. Regardless, I know I wasn’t ready for it.

Eventually I decided enough was enough. I knew what I wanted, and wouldn’t settle till I found it. I wouldn’t waste any more years (mine or anyone else’s) on relationships built on the cheap foundation of convenience or comfort. If there’s one thing I’m proud of when it comes to my dating life over the past few years, it’s that I haven’t wasted anyone’s time. Haven’t led anyone (or myself) down a path that I knew – if I’d just bothered to read those big yellow signs – was a dead end.

No, the only relationship I’ve truly pursued in the past four years was one I was fully committed to. And it ended up hurting me more than I’d ever known before. I kind of felt like I deserved it though, having put at least a few people through that myself. It took me a year and a half to truly get over. But it was good for me in the long run, I think.

Eventually I forgave her for what I knew was only the best she could do, and let it go. Then a funny thing happened a few months ago – she came back into my life. We spent a lot of time analyzing what had happened; how it had gone from pure bliss to an utter train wreck in nearly the blink of an eye. There was a lot of healing, and we even gave it the old college try at making it work again.

But in the end it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe we let something unsaid slip into the tiniest void, and grow into a chasm of separation never again to be bridged. Or maybe despite all our shared interests and desires, we were just too different. Whatever the case, it ended amicably and we both agreed it had been good for us.

So I once again find myself at ground zero. Things that once held so much promise, reduced to ashes.

I look at the date and wonder how I’ve been focused on this objective for so long to no avail. It feels like one of those things that’s getting to the point where it becomes a defining theme of your life. Like you place so much importance on it that it starts to affect you in ways that are counterproductive to actually achieving your goal.

Maybe all this isolation is getting to me. Sure, I spent a week with friends – I haven’t been totally isolated. But this is the first extended period in a while I haven’t had some romantic interest. Because if I’m honest, that serial monogamist still lives inside me. I still have this fundamental desire to feel like I’m working toward something. Toward having a partner to share life with.

And if I’m honest, I haven’t really spent much time alone. Truly single. Only me. Even in the past few years as I’ve traveled solo in the van and devoted plenty of time to ‘finding myself’ and ‘soul searching’, I’ve often had someone to share it with. Someone who comes into my life for a brief period, or maybe an extended one. Someone I can always see a future with… until I can’t.

Being truly single and alone is something I haven’t done much of. There’s a part of me that wonders if I need to go through it before I can find my person. Like maybe there’s something inside me that I need to address that’s preventing me from really being happy or fulfilled with the people I meet.

But at the same time, I’ve had that, albeit not for extended periods. I feel like by this point, I know what I’m looking for, and time alone is just time that could be spent trying to find my person. I’m not getting any younger, after all.

I don’t know what the right answer is. I’m not sure anyone does. It’s the paradox of choice. The more options you have – the more you experience and know what’s out there and what’s possible – the more unhappy you are with whatever choice you make.

Perhaps, if I were to speculate on one silver lining of this surreal pandemic we’ve somehow been plunged into, it’s that maybe we’ll (I’ll) come out of this a with a little more appreciation for the commonalities we all share. Maybe the need for a partner to tick all the boxes will be less important than the connection we share with each other.

I suppose there’s really no option but to hope that’s the case. To remain optimistic in the face of uncertainty. What good would it do otherwise?

So I’m sitting here looking out my van window at the sporadic lightning on the distant desert horizon. There’s not any great reason I ended up at this particular spot, and I don’t really know how long I’ll stay or where I’ll go next. But I’m confident my path will eventually lead to what I’m looking for. I just hope there’s someone out there looking back.