“You’re Not The One”
A Series of Conversations About an Indefinable Relationship
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The Brief Backstory
Mike* and I have been seeing each other on a casual, semi-regular basis since April. There’s something about him I’m inexplicably drawn to. We have great chemistry even though we’ve had some difficulty in the communication department. Lately, we’ve had several conversations trying to define the boundaries of our relationship…
[ If you’re interested in the events leading up to this series of conversations, you may want to read about our first and second dates and about how we’ve been hanging out. ]
The July Conversation
I begin with, “So, if you’re not seeing anyone else and I’m not seeing anyone else…”
and then I look at Mike and see him looking at me with a look of anticipation and fear like he knows whatever I say next is going to be difficult for him to craft a response to. I finish my thought,
“…then we should be having sex more than once a week.”
Mike’s eyes widen.
There’s silence for a moment.
He glances away for a second and then looks at me again, expecting me to say more.
I don’t say anything more.
A smile slowly forms across his face and he says, “Wait. THAT’S where you’re going with this?!”
“Yeah… I mean, I’m not saying like every day, or that it’s like a contractual obligation, but how are we not having sex more often if neither one of us is getting it from someone else?”
He chuckles a little. Flabbergasted. That’s how he looks — flabbergasted.
“Is it lame if I say I’m just really busy?” he asks.
“Yes, kind of lame.”
A look of relief washes over him, “Ya know, when a girl says ‘If you’re not seeing anyone else and I’m not seeing anyone else’ that sentence doesn’t ever end with ‘we should be fucking more often’. Except with you, apparently.”
“Well…” I start to elaborate, but he cuts me off.
“It usually ends with the girl wanting something more and the guy saying he likes the girl but doesn’t want it to be an exclusive boyfriend-girlfriend thing. And then the girl ends it. And then they STOP having sex. It’s never MORE sex.”
Yeah.
Mike scored the jackpot.
If I can say so myself — which I am — definite jackpot.
I thought about this a lot before having this conversation. Things seem to be escalating with Mike. We’ve been spending more time together, and I’ve met some of his friends. I think that’s a big deal. So I’ve been thinking about what exactly we are — if we’re even a “we” — and where this is going.
What I decide, before diving into this conversation, is that I want no-strings-attached sex with a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ (DADT) policy — and Mike is more than willing to go down this path. I could be okay with an exclusive boyfriend-girlfriend thing with Mike. Could be. But it’s completely impractical. He travels for work. A lot. I travel sometimes. We’re setting ourselves up for failure if we assume we will both remain 100% monogamous when in another country and having not fucked for several weeks. The meaningless hookup is inevitable. Not that I can’t do monogamy. I can and I have. But those circumstances were different.
Plus, Mike is young. Younger than me anyway. He tries to use that against me, and he even said something to me about how my biological clock is ticking, and I told him never to say that again… but the point is we are at slightly different points in our lives. I can’t ask him to commit to me exclusively right now and I’m not sure I’d even want to. It’d be a burden on both of us.
So. DADT.
It worked for Clinton, right?
Right??
Well, maybe not really.
But, we’ll see how it goes.
The August Text
Mike’s away the entire month of August. Out of the country on work. Toward the end of his trip, he texts me one night while he’s out drinking: “I’m really excited to see you again, as corny as that might sound.”
“How wasted are you?” I joke.
“Wasted enough that it bothers me that I think of you when I’m drunk,” he writes, followed by some other confusing sentences I don’t understand.
“I’m not sure I follow you…”
“Oy. How to sum up this feeling? Simply put, I miss you.”
“You must be wasted” I reply because that is the first time “I miss you” was said or written between us.
“Fuck off…” he writes.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you too. You’re kind of growing on me :-p” I strategically use that little emoticon hoping it breaks the awkwardness of the truth staring us both in the face: we do miss each other.
The Early September Conversation
One night after he gets back, Mike and I are lounging at his place, making a dent in a bottle of wine, which is how we typically have our most enlightening conversations and lately those conversations drift toward the “What are we?” question. I’m not sure how this conversation started, but I know where it went.
“Stella,” Mike starts — when he uses my name, it means he’s serious — “one day, you’re gonna meet a guy who makes you really happy and who meets all your needs and you’ll fall in love and you’re gonna tell me you need to stop seeing me. And one day, I’ll meet a girl who I know is the one and I’m gonna fully commit to her… but you’re just not the one.”
I cringe a little at those words. He might as well have taken my heart out and stomped on it.
I smile and nod slowly, taking it in, trying not to let on I’m hurt.
“It’s funny that you still think there’s The One,” I say.
And it is. The One is a funny concept. I don’t for one second believe in The One. I think there are many possible The Ones. And I didn’t have it in my head that Mike was one of my Ones, but I did think we had potential. I thought he and I were doing this fun, casual thing and we’d keep doing it for a while and see where things go.
He obviously thinks differently. He has it in his head that there is no potential. I’m not The One. So why am I even wasting my time?
The Late September Conversation
A few weeks go by where I have the whole “You’re not The One” message in my head, and I begin to contemplate ending things with Mike. But we have a vacation planned for early October, so I decide to wait it out. I’ll see how vacation goes — maybe that will help me decide one way or the other.
Mike must sense I’m feeling a little off and we again have the “What Are We?” conversation.
“I sometimes can’t tell if you’re really an asshole or if you’re just emotionally immature,” I say to him.
“You think I’m an asshole?” He’s surprised I said that. “How?”
“Well, honestly, I can’t tell if you ever even think about me when we’re not together. And you made it clear that I’m not The One, I get that, but it’d be nice to know if you even cared at all about me.”
“Stella…” again with the name, “I didn’t mean to come off that way…”
He sounds sincere, but I interrupt so I can finish explaining my point of view, “So… I think there’s a whole wide spectrum from ‘You don’t give a single fuck’ on one end to ‘You’re in love and want to marry me’ on the other end. It’s not one or the other, there’s a whole range in between,” I’m waving my hands back and forth to demonstrate the spectrum. “I thought we were somewhere in between, like just figuring things out and seeing where they go, but after that last conversation I got the idea you were definitely on the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ end.”
“Look at me,” he says firmly. So I look him in the eyes, “You are NOT nothing to me. You do mean something to me. I shouldn’t have said it so harshly, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
I’m still looking at him as he continues, “I like you. And I like what we have. Remember what I sent you that night when I was drunk? I probably bottle up my emotions and only let them out when I’m drinking. But I know I can’t give you everything you need and deserve right now. And I don’t want you waiting around expecting more from me. If you meet some other guy who can be everything you need, you should go after him!”
Whoa.
I know I can’t give you everything you need and deserve. That’s the most mature thing Mike has ever said to me! I pause for a moment while it sinks in.
Maybe he’s not an asshole. And maybe he isn’t emotionally immature. Maybe he’s simply terrible at communicating anything related to emotions.
“I get it. Thanks,” I say, “And I like you, too.”
“Slow down, Stella. Don’t be so articulate.”
It’s a running joke. Too much talk about feelings crosses the invisible line between us.
We both need the line. The line allows us each to cowardly keep ourselves in check, because we’re both afraid to take the leap, both afraid of getting hurt. And so we keep dancing this dance, flirting along the edges of the invisible line: taking two steps forward and one step back.
* Names have been changed, of course, to protect the innocent.
If you like what you just read, please recommend it and then check out more of my ramblings at https://medium.com/@writingsolo or tweet me @writingsolo.
For other pieces in this Publication, check out
https://medium.com/navigating-the-sea-of-singledom
Written with thanks to The Writing Cooperative, specifically: Tracey Pharoah, Justin Cox, Mike, and Sand Farnia.
