Kryptonite

I have an addiction to emotionally distant men. I won't go into the childhood conditioning that created this conundrum, but the symptoms are extreme highs and angry lows with bouts of insanity.  At first emotional withdrawal makes me try harder, fall faster.

Then when the bids for attention and effort go unreciprocated, excessive anger and resentment surface. I try to control it but the harder I try the more insane I feel. Eventually, I find myself, the most loathsome of creatures and end things because the self-hatred I come to feel is unendurable.

Relationships are supposed to be happy things, make life better. For me though that only happens when there is a perfect balance of emotional distancing and intimacy. Too much intimacy and I pull away.

Inside I have a switch that turns off my emotions when my partner is too intense, clingy, or emotional. I also have an insane button that gets pressed when my partner is too distant or unemotional.

The perfect balance has on rare occasions occurred, but not lately. Whenever I've started getting close to the precipice of possibility with a compatible person fear takes over.

Despite that, I did have one incredible relationship since the separation, but it was with a guy much too young for anything serious. He was twenty-two.  Kind, emotionally stable, gorgeous.

Yes, it was wonderful till he freaked about how great things were going and went MIA, which makes me laugh a bit because with my divorce dragging on into infinity, it wasn't like there was any possibility for him to get tied down. Still, it was a wonderful moment in my life with him.

Because of him, I thought I was ready to date. Because of him I took a chance and got into another relationship that left a hundred tiny scars on my heart.

I tried dating a man who I dated when we were seventeen. His emotional distancing and social anxiety hit every insane button so many times he could have worked at Spacely Sprockets doing George Jetson's job and made billions.

My actions, my response, was over the top. It makes me sick to think about. He was kind and I was loony toons. Part of it was because I could see what a great partner he could be, but I wasn't enough for him to put in the effort.

For others he was the go-to problem-solving guy, with his daughter he was a see her every day and call her every night do whatever she needed kind of dad.

But with me? He couldn't even call once a month, let alone once or twice a week which is my bare minimum of contact for a relationship to feel halfway real.

Also, I have a silly rule, if I call you, I talk first, if you call me back, I talk first. If you call me, you talk first. If I call you back, you talk first.

He thought I was selfish, but when I store up gazillions of things to say and get overly analytical when there is a lack of communication it's hard to be the soft listener I am when my communication needs are met.

I wish I could have been me with him. That's what I regret the most. I was an insane insecure Diva, a farce created by open wounds his distancing poured salt into.

Despite all that, I have to be gentle with myself. Divorce is wonderful but it also strips off every protective barrier and leaves you bare and vulnerable. I loved going through John Gray's book Mars and Venus: Starting Over. It gave clear insight into what was going on with me. I didn't feel so crazy because I understood my freakouts, even if he couldn't.