Pursued

I have been reading a young adult book the last few days. The story was predictable, and I knew as I was reading it that I would probably cry before the book was over based on the direction the book was heading, particularly because of some recent life circumstances.

The book was basically about a teenage love triangle with some family and friend drama thrown in. The girl eventually ends up with her dream guy only to realize that he isn't the right guy. She knows that the right guy is the right guy but feels conflicted because he's not what she wants. The right guy has changed in lots of ways from the beginning of the story, and you can tell how she and the right guy have made one another better. How they fit together. And he sees her with dream guy, and instead of doing all the things he would have done at the beginning of the book. He chases after her. He pursues her. He waits for her.

And I cried. I cried reading how he pursued her, and the words, "I just someone who will pursue me" came out of my mouth.

I can't help but just ache. Ache for what isn't. Ache for what may not ever be. I can't help but think about the fact that when my mom was my age, she had been married for five years and was less than a month away from having her first child.

I know I can't compare myself. Or shouldn't compare myself. I know that a relationship will not complete me.

But many days I come home or want to go out and I just wish that I had someone to share my life with. It feels lonelier than I am able to admit and more painful than I am often able or willing to acknowledge.

After an especially difficult day at work on Monday, I came home and all I really wanted was a big long hug. And there isn't a single person within 100 miles of me who I feel comfortable asking for that.

And I just ache.

When things end before they begin

About a month ago, I started talking to this guy. We have lots in common, share some similar interests, have similar beliefs and views about things, and just all around seemed pretty compatible. We went on a date a few weeks ago that was probably my most successful online date thus far. I was out of town for work the week right after our date, and then he was out of town for half of last week, so plans to go out again just hadn't happened, and I didn't think too much about it given the fact that we were collectively in town at the same time for about six days out of the last fifteen, and several of those he had people visiting.

This morning, I made a comment about getting drinks, and I know he saw it because he has those read receipts turned on on his phone. He hasn't talked to me all day.

All I really want to say is, "What the fuck?"

Buddy, if you weren't interested in me, you could have let me know after we went on our date. There was no need to waste both of our time talking for the next two weeks. I told one of my friends at one point that I wasn't sure where you were at in regards to me because you aren't particularly flirty or one to put your feelings out in the open, and I couldn't totally tell if it was you being you or if it was because you weren't interested. I told myself that he wouldn't still be talking to me if he wasn't at least a little bit interested. Hell, he was the one who made a comment about preferring meeting people rather than just talking to them online because you get to know people better that way (obviously). 

I know I can't blame myself. I mean, yes, something I said was what started this, but I'd rather find out now that he's dragging his feet and isn't really that interested than a month from now. I'm not interested in waiting around. I think if this has gone as south as I think it has, I'm going to take a break from all this for a while. 

The problem is that I start wondering what is wrong with me. The answer is nothing. I am not what he's looking for, which is fine. But it's hard not to take it personally. And then I get into this whole spiral about how I won't ever find anyone and I'll be 45 and still single and never have any children, and that breaks my heart. Sharing my life with someone doesn't seem like that big of an ask. And then things happen that make me feel like it's the biggest ask in the world. 

It hurts. It's hard. I just don't want to do it anymore.