It's Starting to Rain

I’m pretty sure that people, for the most part, are everything they say they are not. I do not think I am necessarily an exception to the rule.

The more people I meet in this city, the more I find that everyone is composed of many brilliant thoughts, ideas and experiences. Somewhere in there everything gets cloudy and there is something in New York that has a tendency to suck people’s hearts away. I know this because there are times where I feel it in myself.

As a child I remember thinking and saying that I only ever wanted to have sex with one person my entire life. I think that this is a common thought process, more so when you grow up in the Midwest with a strong Christian background. At this point in my life, many years later, it would be impossible for me to live up to these expectations. At this point I’m able to draw a line between sex and emotion, so that they don’t necessarily have to exist within the same person. With that said, I’m not even saying that I want an open relationship, but more so that when I actually find both sides in one person, I am blindsided. I think that I have been more or less single for four years, and at this point, the thought of even having to take someone else’s emotions into consideration scares the fuck out of me. I have no idea what I want in a person, what I consider to make someone a good match. I run on emotions and this gets me into trouble. I find myself chasing after “everlasting butterflies”, and ideas of fantasy romance that don’t exist. Perhaps half of my problem is found in dating people that are either actors/models/dancers/ or unbelievably attractive. Granted, not everyone I date is a ten.

Sometimes at night I lie in bed and imagine myself in a fantasy relationship, one that works. I’ve been the type of guy in the past that has made blueberry pancakes for people in the morning, taken them their favorite candy to work, a simple flower, or taken then out of town simply to eat at their favorite restaurant. I imagine myself on a deck watching the sun fall, night enter. I imagine candle lit dinners, taxi rides at wee hours in the am. Something of comfort, safety and security. Maybe at some point in the future, a house in suburbia, a couple kids, and a white picket fence. I want to have a dog and a place that feels like home when I come to it at night. I am obsessed with the idea of falling in love.

I am so obsessed with the idea of falling in love that every time something doesn’t work out it feels as thought my heart is being ripped from my body. At least what’s left of my heart at this point. “And I could fall in love a million times before I die.” Alanis Morissette wrote a song called The Death of Cinderella, and sometimes I find it resting in my back pocket. I don’t know if I’ve never been in love, or if I fall in love all the time. Either way it feels empty, so what’s the difference?

I have people in my life telling me to slow down, to breathe, to enjoy the day, don’t get locked in tomorrow. I have a tattoo reminding me to always live in the moment. And it sounds much easier then it is. I try so hard sometimes to live in the moment, that I get locked in the moment. I forget to see everything that is going on around me, and I ignore what’s staring at me directly in the face. I constantly ignore all the signs that I am all too used to seeing. I think every time will be different then the last. I think that maybe today the other person will try harder, or be there more, or care, or need me. Along with being obsessed with being in love, I am obsessed with feeling like I am of need.

Is it possible that all of my relationship issues root from my parents? I refuse to think that things are that simple. But I know that I don’t want to be married to someone for sixteen years, wake up one day, and have it all explode in my face. I remember the first time that my father slept on the couch downstairs. It was Christmas time and he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as my mother, my sisters and I as we decorated the tree. We always had huge Christmas tress, they would explode and expand all over the living room, engulf our gifts and this year, things were different. I don’t even remember if my parents were still living together for that Christmas. I believe that was the last year my mother had a real tree in our house though. Every year after that the tree came in a box, until eventually we just had none. One year I decorated a houseplant with Christmas lights. And it felt empty. Every year after that felt empty until eventually both of my parents were remarried. I don’t ever want to feel that way again. I don’t ever want to have anyone ever feel that way because of something I’ve done.

Because of many experiences like that, I try to see the future, and I jump the gun. I panic and I freak out before I have anything to worry about. I don’t give people chances to show me who they are, and I guard myself. Every now and then I put up a fight and I let my walls down. Trying to be open and free and let experiences happen is much harder then you might think. It makes it even harder when you so desperately want something to be “more”.

Everyone I know says that relationships are harder then you would think and take a lot of work. I feel like things should at least be easy in the beginning. Maybe not all the way through, but aren’t there usually enough smiles to get you through the days when they are sometimes tough? Do you have to work to create memories, or do they just happen? When do you know when the effort is worth putting out there? When are you supposed to know anything is forever, or even for the next week. And why does everything feel so empty when it’s gone?

When times are tough, I find myself outside. Trying some how to connect to nature, to find the peace and inner strength that I hear the world offers. Some times I feel the breeze on my face and that’s all I need to know that everything will be ok. Have you ever laid outside, under a tree and looked up between the leaves to see the sky? There is some sort of peace and comfort in knowing and feeling that you are part of something more. I don’t know if I know what that “more” is anymore, but I feel that it has to be there. When it’s not in the sky, it’s in art, all the paintings and poetry, books and music. I think that is the answer to life’s many questions, emotions.

As I close this, I am finding myself tied back to Round Here by the Counting Crows. Possibly one of the most brilliantly written songs in the entire world through time. If you’ve no idea what I am talking to, I urge you to hear the song. There is a live version on Across a Wire that has an entire verse which always brings me to tears. I’ll try to find and post it below.

Chin up young one, chin up.


“She says, this is only in my head
She say, oh shut up, shut up, this is only in my head
She said did you think that you were dreamning
I said no I didn’t think that I was dreaming
So I said no, I just want it to come true,
All I need is you
She said well did you think that you were dreaming
I said no, I didn’t think that I was dreaming
So I said, so I just want it to come true
All I need is you
She said don’t you think that you are dreaming
And I said no
But she says, but don’t you think you might be dreaming
And I say no, no, no, no
And she says don’t you think you are dreaming
And I said, sometimes I don’t know…”
-Counting Crows