I think it's time to just cop to it: there's something wrong with me, and I can't figure out what it is.  I meet so many people each week who seem to deal with issues and neuroses that are far beyond the scope of anything I've personally experienced...and yet so many of them seem to find their ways into meaningful, rewarding relationships.

For so long--most of my adult life--I have given reason after reason for my perpetual single-hood.  And many of those reasons were legit.  It is absolutely true that I am picky.  Perhaps to the point of being unrealistic.  It's also true that I won't stick around in a relationship the second I'm certain that it's doomed.  That may sound obvious, but what I'm saying is that I won't hang around for a year waiting for something better to come along simply because I'm scared of being bored and lonely if I break up.  But the fact remains that I more often than not try to give the impression that my singleness is a matter of choice.

Yeah...

Fresh out of college, I could see so many good reasons to be single.  I had less restrictions on my schedule, I could focus on jobs and possible grad school without having to take anyone else into consideration, and (most of all) I just wasn't interested in anyone to the point of wanting this "relationship" that all my friends seemed to be falling all over themselves to attain.  And then Cindy happened (I'm not going into the Cindy thing here...those of you who know me well know the story...those of you who don't can ask me if you want to know), and that simultaneously A.) made me understand what all my friends were running after and B.) scared me away from serious relationships for a couple of years.  But as I started to make new friends and meet new people, I likewise started to entertain new possibilities in my life.

And since then, it's been a non-stop succession of wrong turns.

I seriously believe I might be the worst person in the world at gauging who is/isn't right for me.  Usually, one of the following scenarios plays out shortly after meeting someone promising...

--She is incredibly fun and interesting when we first meet, and then becomes inexplicably reclusive, to the point of being contemptuous.  So I oblige and back off.

-- She fits every single aspect of what I'm looking for in someone...except that whole part about being even slightly interested in me.  Seriously.  The only ones who ever completely ignore me are the ones who seem perfect.

-- She is immediately interested in me, and we have a great time together...and then I discover that she is an obsessive-psycho-stalker who doesn't want me to invest a second in anyone but her.  Honestly, the avoidance of these situations alone can make even the worst lonliness bearable.

-- She is super cool...and I come on way, WAY too strong.  I know I do it.  I wish I could make myself stop...but I never realize I've done it until she's already bailed.

And I'm sure there are other scenarios.  I don't have an overly high opinion of myself...but I'm sure not wallowing in self-loathing either.  I know that I have a lot to offer; I just find myself perpetually frustrated by the fact that my offering is consistently not commensurate with anyone;s desires.

So before we all drown in my personal pathos, let me say why I decided to write about this tonight.  All of these things have been on my mind lately, and just by random chance I happen to go to my old blog site tonight to see if it was still up.  It was, and so I perused some of the things I wrote 3 and 4 years ago.  I laughed some, I cringed some when I saw that some of the same hang-ups from then are the same ones I struggle with now.  But overall, I was encouraged by some of my own words stemming from a time when these same thoughts were rattling around in my overworked psyche.  The blog entry in question was written after an especially good concert, and I have reposted it below.  I'm going to scrap the old blog, but I thought this was worth revisiting, if not saving.

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 I spent last Friday night with a good friend.

Tom Conlon, possibly the most under-appreciated singer/songwriter on the planet, was in town and I was able to scrape together the time and money to see him. Over the last couple of years, Tom has gone from being just another musician to being somewhat of a friend. I had the freak luck to become roommates with one of his old friends from back in the day, and stuff just sort of happened from there. It's so cool to be able to have drinks with him after the show and actually talk about the events that inspired some of my favorite songs. I also think I just enjoy hearing Tom say things like, "Dude, that bitch broke my heart." :)

Anyhoo, in between songs Tom typically drops a little knowledge on you by offering insight into broken hearts, the thoughts of God, the virtues of dog ownership, etc. Friday night, he was finishing up a song that completed a string of 3 or 4 really, really sad songs. This isn't surprising as "bitter love songs" (as Tom calls them) have been his bag for a while. Tom jokingly said that he needed to lighten things up and play some "party tunes"...he then paused and stated that he really didn't have any party tunes, but he did have more bitter love songs that were at least a faster tempo. So he played "Birds Fly." But before he did, he sort of backtracked and reflected on how he had indeed recorded an album comprised almost exclusively of bitter laments on his latest album. While there's not anything necessarily wrong with these songs, said Tom, there is something to be said for only hearing one side of a broken heart story. Yes, it's true that some relationships leave us beaten up and broken...

...and here's where Tom dropped the aforementioned knowledge on our sorry asses. He said he'd realized that all of us--yes, all of us--come into every relationship (lover, spouse, sibling, child, parent) a broken mess of a person. You could think you've found the most perfect person ever, and before you even go up and introduce yourself, you need to realize that this vision of perfection is carrying around just as much emotional wreckage as you and I. They've been hurt, betrayed, lied to. And it's probable that they've hurt, betrayed, and lied to others. And when you "fall" for someone, you're falling for all the (pardon me) bullshit as well. Yes you're embracing their zest for life, but you're also embracing their wounds from an abusive parent. Yes you're embracing their compassion for the needy, but you're also embracing their neuroses. Yes you can't even begin to describe their beauty, but you'll have an equal task in trying to wrap your mind around their inability to trust. And on and on and on...

And I suppose most of us don't really need to be told these things. To any emotionally healthy individual, they seem somewhat obvious. But I can't help but notice that many (if not most) of my peers get blindsided at some point in a new relationship. Everything's fine and then--BAM!--you find out her last boyfriend used to hit her. Or you find out she carves on herself when she feels guilty or embarassed. Or you find out all that money she's borrowed wasn't for rent. And then where are you? It's like Kierkegaard said all those years ago, most men don't want to fall in love with a woman, they want the idea of a woman. Even though they know they themselves could never live up to half the idealistic standards they've set for others, they live as though this perfect prototype of a mate exists.

And I do it too. I don't want to sound all self-righteous here. But I'd like to think I've made some progress. And I'd like to think that if tommorow I find "her" (though "her" existence is seeming less and less likely)* that I wouldn't say "I love you, despite your flaws," but simply "I love you."

Yeah, it's schmaltzy. Sue me.

*shameless self-pity