I saw it. I know I did, from across the table, he looked into me. I saw it. I know I did. I felt my eyes absorb his gaze. It rushed to the back of my neck and slid down my spine. It felt so good. I remembered what it felt like to be loved. The warmth of his smile, and the tilt in his posture made me want to curl up in his arms right there at the table. His face was kind, and his disposition tender. Spark. Spark. Spark. We began our dinner date by discussing psychology, research and where I planned on taking my career. He recently decided that he would like to pursue interests that differ from where he focused his education. A few years ago, he came to the realization that he was lost. He was not living an authentic life. He had never followed his own interests, and had been living his life according to what others had wanted for him. I completely understood. Our food came and sitting in front of him was practically the biggest burrito I had ever seen. He ate half of it and said he was pretty full and debated eating the other half. As we kept talking he polished off the whole thing. I said I was impressed. We talked for a couple of hours about the process of “coming into our own”.
Years ago I was on a date with a guy who spent a few hours telling me about his dreams, aspirations, and accomplishments. When it was my turn to share about myself, I had nothing to say. I felt embarrassed, awkward and empty. I knew that part of why that relationship floundered and died was because I was an empty shell of a person. I didn’t acquire enough self-esteem to do anything about it until years later. I needed to break away from the “support group” I mentioned last week. Upon doing so, I began to discover what I really liked. Once I was no longer spending every moment of my free time, reflexively and routinely attending group gatherings, I had a lot more space to pursue other interests. This was the beginning of the emergence of ‘me’. I became acquainted with a ‘self’ that I had never met before. I unveiled the potential that everyone kept alluding to. For the first time in my life, I felt I had the capability of reaching out and fulfilling that potential. Over time I realized the value of connecting physically to my spirituality and I began practicing yoga. I acknowledged that I was responsible for Lucy and my own financial well being and re-entered college. I found healthy ways of dealing with my anxiety and began running long distances. I manifested my visions of creativity. Instead of placing my ideas in the “someday I will create” space in the corner of my mind, I took action and literally painted the picture I saw in my head. Painting became a release for unrequited love. And if that wasn't enough to funnel my passional nature, I began performing contact improv with an incredible community of extremely talented dancers. Dancing heals me to depths I could never have imagined. And of course I write, which has become one of my greatest forms of expression. All of these callings have helped me feel more comfortable in my skin and have enabled me to open up to others.
Date#8 stated the dilemma perfectly. He really wanted to be loved for being his authentic self, but realized suddenly that even he didn’t know who that was. We shared our stories. We were real. We exposed our underbellies in a general way, and I felt we equally disclosed our fears concerning self acceptance, and deepening our connections. We shared the same perspectives on shame, vulnerability and surrender. I knew exactly where he was in the “coming to” process.
I was thrilled about our shared views when it came to personal growth and self-actualization. I began to contemplate a relationship with him. There is a part of me that wants to get lost in the fantasy of believing that he will be my next boyfriend, but this project is about honesty and self-discovery. I am not doing myself any favors by ignoring red flags. In addition, I also want to point out that I am not a mind reader, nor am I a psychic. I am not convinced that I am right about any of the observations I am about to describe concerning this date. Discussing this date with a close friend, helped me to muddle through some of my confusion and feelings of unrest that came up for me after the date ended.
As a culture we praise individuals for their displays of compassion and selflessness, but what happens when those efforts become compulsive? As human beings we exhibit some of the most bizarre perversions of behavior in order to achieve a emotional state of numbness. I am talking about addiction. Specifically codependency, perhaps the root of all other addictions. Different types of addiction have contrasting levels of social acceptability. In other words, not all compulsive behaviors produce the same external consequences. But the story from the perspective of the addict themselves is always the same; a swirling cycle of craving, satiation and overcompensation followed by some manifestation of shame and guilt. Let me put it this way, the cycle always follows this progression, the craving, the chase, the high, the chase, the crash. This repeats until the binge is over.
At dinner he admitted he was an overeater and has had struggles with codependency. He is not overweight now, but has been in years past. The truth is, I assumed he was in recovery, but looking back I don’t recall if he ever mentioned the state of his issue or if it was still a persistent problem. We spent along time at the restaurant and eventually we left and took a stroll down Pacific Ave. From his wallet, he pulled out a picture of himself from when he was overweight. He showed it to me. He said he carries it with him to remind himself of where he has come from. We were talking about his struggle and I explained I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself. When suddenly he stopped, and gave me a look I found difficult to interpret. He nodded his head toward The Cookie Company. I was still very full, but we walked over and he and I both ordered cookies. I ate about two bites and then put the rest back in the paper bag and put in in my pocket. We continued walking and we were approaching where he parked his bike. I asked if he wanted to continue to hang out. I said we could go to my house since it was just a few blocks away and it was absolutely freezing outside. He agreed.
It is possible that, what I am about to propose is not the explanation for what I began to feel, but given the circumstances I must look into it.
Up until we got back to my house, I felt some great chemistry with him. I sensed a mutual excitement about meeting each other. But upon coming inside I felt a shift. I felt like he was uncomfortable energetically. It seemed like he honestly still liked me, but he seemed distracted. Like the person I was talking to at the restaurant was no longer the person I saw sitting in my living room. I know the conversation was still open, but his body language was indifferent. Did he think I was being too forward? Was he suddenly not into me cause I told him about Lucy? (I had to since he would notice the toys) Things started to feel different. I felt like, the space where the mutual liking once was, now held a strange feeling of withdrawal and slight disinterest. It wasn’t in anything he said. He was sitting back comfortably in my rocking chair as I kept sending various subtle body signals that I was interested. That moment of physically moving closer never came. Finally he said it was getting late and got up. He walked straight toward the door and said “give me a hug”. I did but it felt sharp and empty. I kinda got the feeling that he didn’t want to see me again. It’s totally possible that upon getting to know me he just didn’t like me. I was confused.
Here is where I feel conflict. I really liked him. However, he evoked some pity in me. Red flag. I over-identify with his struggle. Red flag. I (on some level) believe I can help him. Red flag. If food addiction truly has the same template as alcoholism, I am certain what happened on our date was the equivalent of meeting for a couple of drinks (huge burrito), leaving the restaurant, discussing his alcoholism (food addiction) and then stopping at the bar (cookie company) for couple more “drinks” (cookies). I fulfilled my usual codependent role, and ordered a cookie (that I didn’t really want) so I would’t feel so awkward about his disclosures. (i.e the non-alcoholic ordering a drink but not actually drinking it, in efforts to avoid making the alcoholic feel uncomfortable). The shift in energy happened shortly after the food happenings, and I know that my experience with alcoholism has shown me that Dr. Jekyll / Mr.Hyde personality changes occur shortly after the hit of the addictive substance. The timing makes sense.
This date has a severe element of sadness for me. I’d like to think that my perceptions are wrong and that I’m making this all up, but If I’m really being honest with myself, I know that my instincts are correct. I was on a date with an active addict. The trouble is, in the beginning everything felt so promising. He was smart, very attractive, easy to talk to. I felt the feeling was mutual. We have a lot in common in terms of the quest for becoming ones authentic self and finally acknowledging who we are.
It seems like we are different places in our recovery. I think he is headed in the right direction, however I want to meet someone where they are, and not where I think they could potentially get to eventually. Because I know that where I expect someones recovery to take them, is not where it will actually go. No matter how capable I think he may be. I am torn as to whether I would go out with him again. If he even asked me out on another date. This one was very bittersweet.
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