Failed Expectations

I can't say that I have this for everything in my life.
There are quite a few things that I'm quite realistic about.
Career, friendship, my abilities as a man. As a person.

But there is one aspect of my life that I can't get a grasp on -- Relationships.

You've never met a more romantic, giving man.
And I think a lot of who I am as a lover, is because of what I've learned through film.
Damn films.

I've read articles before about the detriment to society romantic comedies are.
Well, I am the living embodiment of this exact issue.
I am all at once a cliche and a flawed creature.

I dream of love constantly. It's a part of me.
Dream of hours of sharing.
Of long stares and laughter. Of arguments and annoyance.
Of knowing glances and inside jokes. Of soft, passionate love making and downright, dirty fucking.

I find myself becoming one of those people who sits at a coffee shop and when I see someone walk by holding hands,
looking very much in love, I'm a combination of jealous and envious.

I'm flawed. And I know it. I've known it for awhile and I'm not exactly sure how to trace it back.

When I look at myself, I find this:

I fall hard. And way too fast. If I meet someone I have a "connection" with, the connection stays. Lingers. Even if it doesn't work. Which it apparently never has. I meet a woman and destroy that initial impulse in her that told her to give me her number. After she's done it, of course. I'm jumping, no no, diving in the "Honeymoon phase" before we're even dating. She's thinking "Hmm, he's kinda cute. And funny." And I'm thinking "We'd have cute kids."

I'm the chick. When the FUCK did this happen?

I'm at an age when all of my closest friends are married. And they have been for awhile. My besties, who I would literally die for. Dan. Bruce. They all got lucky. SO lucky. They found the perfect mate for themselves. And vice versa. Their wives, "The Stephanies" are so happy.

Now, there's a part of me that wishes that I was the guy on Friday night who rallied with his "boyz" and went out to rage. All the while screaming, "YEEEAAAGH, LET'S GET SOME PUSSY, BRO! FUCK YEAH! LET'S GET LAID! AND WASTED!" Sometimes I wish I was that guy because the bullshit that I'd be dealing with would probably be less than now.

I drag myself through the mud constantly. Simultaneously being the recruit and drill instructor. Running myself through my own little confidence course and when I slip off the rope and hit the water, I'm pissed. Hurt almost. Then I come to the edge of the water and starting yelling at my love-soaked self. "Get the fuck up, you! You get the hell outta that water and get back on my course! You hear me?" "Yessir." So I run back around and begin the course again, but I'm still wet. Still soaked. So, yes. I'm running the course, going through the motions, but when I get to that rope again, and look down -- I'm thinking, "I'm still fucking wet from the last time I ran through this."


Does this mean I need time? Time alone? I don't think so. The whole "You have to love yourself before you can love someone else"-thing isn't really a problem for me. I have love for myself. I sometimes have issues about feeling adequate. Fiscally speaking. My last relationship didn't help that one in the least. Dan tells me that when I get my first paycheck for directing that will all change. That it's not unique that I'm feeling that. A lot of people feel that.

There's a part of me that wants to skip forward. I'm trying to live in the moment. Enjoy the process. But I find that's it always a combination of enjoying "the moment" and wanting to move past it to "the good stuff".

For example: Right now is a very exciting time for me with my career. I've been pushing hard to achieve this goal for many years and approaching the precipice. One film is getting signed, one is getting financed, and my new project with Dan and Elwood is so exciting. Creatively inspiring. Fun. It's a wonderful time. But there's a part of me that is saying "Enough already, gimme a fucking premiere party!"

Similarly, I don't date well. I enjoy the little moments. The getting-to-know, the little laughs. The adoration. But inside, I'm going "Enough already, gimme the fucking wedding party!" I hate dating. I don't think I always did, but I do now. I love the excitement of first dates and all that, but there's a part of me that wants to skip all that. I was having a conversation the other night with a friend and we're were discussing how it's hard for men to prove that they're "men" nowadays. Everything has changed. Is that why I wish I had lived in the Old West? On the Frontier? Is that why I crave the mountains? Adventure? Because that's something that I have control over? More than nought?

Is the only way to prove that you're a man, to make money? I feel like that's wrong. I actually feel pretty strongly about that. I think being a man has to do with taking responsibilities for your actions. Being honest with others and yourself. Loving with your whole heart. Protecting the honor of the people you love with your everything, even death sometimes. None of these traits require you to have money.

I've gone off path onto a tangent. Back to it --

There is nothing more important to me than love. Love for my friends. Love for my family. It dwarfs my new car. My nice apartment fails in comparison. All of my belongings are but a mere breeze compared to the tornado that is love. And I feel like that tornado has been touching down around me for years. I'm prepped and ready. The windows and doors are boarded up. The cans of food are labelled and inventoried. I'm ready for love to touch down one last time. Touch down and sweep me up in it's funnel. Pulling me higher. And higher.

Into the clouds.