2003-09-26 - 5:57 p.m.
May 13, 2003
I have no sense of boundaries. You get all or none of me. I make myself vulnerable before you and if not received well, then I retreat and remain inside. If I knew how to give pieces of myself, I could be-friend more of you.
Something I found in my encounters—dates and conversations—with men over the past year is that people are not accustomed to frankness. I guess that was especially true in Washington DC, and more true the older the man was. This is just one of the reasons why I can not date someone I do not already know, with whom there is not already trust established. It is painful to talk honestly and seriously about myself knowing that they are trying to filter my words for the truth that is already there. It is exhausting when a certain person compels me to show a few facets of myself and only those facets because to show the rest of myself would be uncomfortable for both people. It would be like asking a diamond to catch the light with only some of its facets, but retain the light it captures on the others. It cannot be done, the light must reflect or else be another substance. I must be myself.
One night my parents decided we would go out to dinner, a rare occasion and yet nothing special. We were sitting there talking over glasses of water and I watched the waitresses seat customers. Couples came in and I imagined myself one of the women. My mind immediately leapt to the rare date: comfortable with each other, fascinated with a new personality, sharing interesting stories from our lives, no expectations afterwards. That may never happen now, but I can hardly have regrets.
