I've been wondering about my aversion to settling down lately. I'm non-committal at best, and super-flaky at worst. I'm flighty. Very, very flighty. Maybe I just equate commitment with lack of independence. But shouldn't it be that being with the right person sets you free? I don't know.
And the more I talk to people about their reasons for taking the plunge or for staying with the person they're staying with, the less convinced I am. About everything.
For some strange reason, I grew up thinking that I would end up alone. I don't know how this came about, and maybe a therapist will be able to help me pinpoint the exact moment in my overall happy childhood that led me to fear commitment like the plague. (I'm tempted to say that it's because I see a tremendous amount of dependence between my parents, but not necessarily love in its purest I-want-to-be-with-you-because-I-want-to-be-with-you-not-because-I-have-to form. More like respect and duty, but not necessarily love as I understand it.) I don't know.
I haven't ever been burned. Or scarred. I'd dare say that I'm incredibly lucky. Although all the boys I've dated before have ultimately been wrong for me, they were always nice guys who treated me as well as they knew how. I can't fault them. I'm a very, very lucky girl in that regard. So what's wrong?
I listened to the John Mayer song "Another Side of Green" recently. (I've heard it many times before, but this time I really listened to the words and they really struck me.) He sings about this girl who's willing to throw away their relationship for no apparent reason and it's obvious that she doesn't realize how good they've got it. There's nothing wrong with their relationship whatsoever. And he doesn't need to go out there to date all kinds of women to know that she's the one he wants to be with, even though she's imperfect. (I am her.)
I just can't wrap my mind around that. That sort of level of commitment is astounding to me, and something I actually really want to strive to achieve. One of the lines in the song: "You're not the perfect hand but I don't hit on nineteen." He uses blackjack (21) as a metaphor for their relationship; she's not perfect, but their love is most-likely a winner (19); why mess it up? I am definitely the type of person who would hit on 19. NOT because I expect perfection (perfection is so overrated and boring), but just because. Seriously sick and twisted. And illogical.
Even though I'm tired of the rat race, I feel like I'm not done running away from love quite yet. My running shoes are on and I feel like "if it doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel right." Right? My gut instinct is to run when it gets "too serious," and boy, it sure feels pretty serious nowadays, even though we're not "let's officially get committed" type of people. If he pushed me to get married, I'd be out of here so fast it would make your head spin!
It's scary. Very, very scary for me.
I honestly don't know what to do and all this pressure just makes everything else oh-so difficult.
As it stands right now, I feel like I have two options:
- Work through my fear of commitment with this super-awesome guy who totally sees me for who I am and loves me anyway, in spite of my inability to settle my butt down already. And be happy with the decision.
-
Run out again. I've done it before (to the same super-awesome guy, in fact), and it's in my sick and twisted nature to do it again.
Another catch: I've always made decisions by trusting my instincts. Sure, sometimes they lead me astray, but for the most part, it's brought me to where I am and I have no regrets for the life I've lived to date. So, to go back on my instincts now seems unnatural and counter-intuitive, which makes it all the more difficult.
I'm so sick of thinking about this, actually. And even more sick of talking about it. I feel like my life should be about more than just male-female relationships, but it often takes up the most time because I'm a drama queen and an attention whore. I want to wake up, open my eyes and have it all resolved for me. The sad part is, I'll eventually be fine with whatever the outcome is. I secretly wish that the super-awesome guy would finally give up on me and let me revel in my fears and let me go, but he's too super-awesome for that. If I want to destroy a perfectly fine thing we've got going here, the onus is on me to tear the house down.
Damn.
