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In Hot Pursuit of Happiness

Truth Time

Actress demonstrating initial reactions of fea...

Actress demonstrating initial reactions of fear and panic. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have a crush. I lie, I don’t have a crush, I’ve had a CRUSHING CRASH. Some months ago, I met, online, what I thought was a good prospect. He fulfills alll of my criteria, for a start, and I can’t imagine a better start, since I almost never meet such prospects… as you’ve seen. So, we started writing. Every day. We exchanged views on most things, dropped jokes, and I began to feel like my day was incomplete without some sign from him. That’s when I realised I was in trouble.

X is TOTALLY my type, which, like the types of most girls whose friends think she should know better, ISN’T the kind, smart, generous, soft-spoken guy that sends mothers into rapture (fortunately or unfortunateky, this guy  almost doesn’t exist any more, anyway). No. It’s the broody, opinionated, stubborn, impossible type. With a soft centre. This guy makes my world… well, not stop, but certainly slow down. And this sends me into a small panic because, though I’m not trawling the Internet for nothing, I am very aware of the things that made me chose singlehood, the biggest thing being that I wasn’t ready to be one half of a whole.

To be anyone’s other half, you have to make that midline where you are meld ed a veritable cauldron of liquid metal. That line is where the individual blurs into the mix of coupledom, through a combination of putting oneself second, willingness to compromise, staunch friendship and loyalty, all glazed with the feelings of love, affectiion and respect. Without any of these, the line solidifies, and the couple separates into two individuals.But first and foremost, in order to be able to get to that line, you have to have all of those feelings you bring to coupledom for yourself. Having spent a good few years growing up, I know that I am ready for coupledom; but there is another hurdle in my own way. Raging, tangible, constant Fear, in the form of that disgusting, frequently successful devil’s tool: What If?. What If I’m not a good girlfriend? What If I make a terrible wife? What If I’m the worst mother? What if I‘m not ready after all? What If I freak out because I feel too much is being asked of me? What if I’m not able to give as much as I want to, because I’m so scared of disappearing into the relationship that I loose all sense of myself?

In the past, I’ve entered good relationships confidently, almost without thinking, because –you know what relationships do, they make you feel WONDERFUL. Then, the guy starts Saying Things. Things about next weekend, and the Future. Things about meeting family and getting closer, and acting totally comfortable about  us staying in all cuddled up, kissing for hours, and putting his hand on my neck in public. I begin to FREAK OUT, and when I begin, it’s basically over, because I can’t stop. I want to scream at him that I have flaws that he couldn’t possibly be able to deal with, and that it’s no good planning next weekend, because sometimes I need to be alone. I want to scream that I freak out frequently (in my head) and that when I’m stressed, nothing except an act of God can restore me to my normal self. I want to ask him whether he hasn’t noticed that HUGE pimple right in between my  nose, that is showing no signs at all of moving on to grow somewhere more discreet. I want to point out that sometimes my butt looks flat, and sometimes it looks pregnant, and that there is no telling what it’s going to look like from day to day, until I get up and have to deal with one or the other. I want to tell him that my hair is out of bounds, and that he has no right to touch my face when I don’t know it’s coming, becuase it makes me feel emotional. But basically, I’m a coward. I disappeared. I wasn’t terrible to guys I had abolutely no romantic feeling for. Only to those I did. And for X, I DO, I DO, I DO. And I want to scream at him to go slowly, because of my tendency to self-sabotage. I also want him not to go slowly, because I’m dying to meet him in the flesh.

This hurdle HAS to be pushed through, and Right Now, because it’s already reared it’s ugly head, and if I don’t get a handle on it, X and I will never live to see the children we’ve already named. Just before last Christmas, X and I had a huge fight about absolutely nothing, still, since it was a debate, and both of us ae stubborn, we took it too far, and stopped writing. I felt absolutely awful, because I knew that I could have let him have it without any skin off my nose, and sometimes women have to do that, and allow their man save face. Loosing face is one thing a man cannot forgive. But he was getting too close, I liked him too much  and I needed a reason to break it off.  We recently began writing again, and I was comfortable in the thought that I was over him… but I’m not. In fact, it’s worse. And what’s worse than that is that, upon realising this, I had a series of freak outs –AT HIM, them sat and waited for the message telling me never to write him again. He wrote to tell me how I’d made his day, i’m so hilarious. WTF AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT? You know, except fall even deeper for him? I sat and decided to pull my hair out, but when I had a few strands nicely lined up, I realised I don’t want to be half-bald when we meet, and stopped. Which means I WANT  to meet him. Which means I’m internally getting READY to meet him. Which means I should also get ready for a fresh Freak Out. Which I don’t WANT to happen.

Men! Can’t live with them… or painfully with them. Trawling the Internet now for some sort of anti-freakout pill. Any suggestions?

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About Ciggie Cramond

Ciggie Cramond is an author, writer, editor and translator currently living in Nairobi, where she is actively writing her next book, supporting Arsenal, and looking for The One... Online, naturally!

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