I should have been an FBI interrogator

I was planning on writing something alarmingly witty, obnoxiously charming and with just a hint of my incontestable pith. However, I've chosen to regale you with my new found discovery. I may or may not be, but definitely am NOT ready to be seriously dating.

For those of you who have had the [mis]fortune of socializing with me the past few years (alright, decade) know I was in a serious, committed, marriage-bound relationship. All the bells and whistles. Everything I knew and everything I thought I wanted. I called the wedding off because I am absolutely confounded by everything that marriage entails and no one could give me a cogent answer to any of my questions. What makes a marriage last? How did you know they were the one you could spend the rest of your life with? What actually changes after you put on those matching rings? Why do some marriages fall by the wayside and end bitterly in divorce, custody battles and lawyers deciding who gets the ugly china? If anyone has any answers to these questions, I beg of you, speak up! I haven't had the best examples of wedded bliss in my lifetime so I was not so easily drawn (or dragged) to the aisle. Calling off my wedding was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, because my feelings for my fiance hadn't changed, but my fear of the future won out. We spent the following year attempting to right our wrongs, alleviate our apprehensions, and find some common expectations. As I am single now, you can see how much we accomplished. I'm still not sure whether we were in fact not the right match or it simply wasn't the right time, either way I'm writing this blog about dating (or rather not dating) new people. Eh, such is life.

Now that we've got some of the background issues out of the way, let me expound upon my theory that I'm not ready to date. Okay, I'm ready to date, but not date. Glad I cleared that up. As previously mentioned, I had a lot of down time from the point my wedding was cancelled, to the point we decided to go our separate ways, to the point I felt I was ready to finally let go and move on. Let's call this the Trial & Error period. I'd like to say I spent the past couple years really soul searching, discovering the real Rachel. What does Rachel really enjoy or detest? What really defines Rachel or gives her strength? Why does Rachel refer to herself in the 3rd person when asking pivotal questions? At the very least, I was hoping to provide validation for the poignant aphorism - Know thyself. You may be wondering what was I actually doing? Having a riotous pity party for myself while hugging my new boyfriend, Mr. Merlot. I suppose I just needed time. Retrospectively, I probably should have been a little more productive. Maybe I could have learned to play the Australian didgeridoo, perhaps developed a conversational level of Farsi, or even mastered Mohobelo African dance. Alas, I did none of these - nor did I really think of them until now. These will be added to my Bucket List. Where Was I?

At the cessation of Rachel's (okay, I'm seriously done with creepy omniscient blogging) Trial & Error period, I decided it was time to embark upon the new chapter...dating. Slightly out of the loop on every social and global refinement of this stupid verb I threw down the proverbial gauntlet. Never one to shy away from a challenge (this is a bold face lie but I like how it sounds) I let some people set me up and began what would prove to be a tiresome, ghastly, nauseating chore. For starters, those of you who arranged dates for me with men who are questionably: sane, heterosexual and done nursing, I wish ceaseless incontinence upon you with a hint of restless leg syndrome. Anyway, amidst these mutants I did happen to stumble upon a pretty great guy all on my own. No thank you to any of my abusive friends whom I suspect are harboring some deep grudges against me. Of course since he's my type - not psychotic, has a job, no felonies, literate - I immediately assault him with "Fantasy Future," the absurd game I've erroneously disclosed in another post. So instead of enjoying his company I immediately try to fit him into my future plan. Granted, I only knew the poor guy a couple weeks and no one could possibly fit into this restrictive plan, I persisted nonetheless. Fast forward a few weeks, everything seems to be going great (almost too perfectly) and then I decide I'm terrified of this new found happy relationship status. The second it started feeling comfortable and familiar I completely shut down. This was alarming for two reasons: 1) Can I really not maintain lasting emotions or interest in someone because they don't fit perfectly into my mold; and 2) Is he yet another wrong guy? Either I'm destined to a life of loneliness or I have terrible judgment and need to be more cautious. Great. *cue Mr. Merlot*

I think everything just happened too quickly. I'm so used to jumping to exclusivity and the abhorrent "where is this going?" conversation. I can never just enjoy the moment, go with the flow, let the chips fall where they may and all that jazz. Truth is, I really like this guy and do enjoy our moments together. I'm just not sure I'm ready to face my compulsory need to have everything fit perfectly into place. I need time to figure out not only what's out there in terms of men (as it's painfully obvious I have no clue), but what I actually need and what I may want with someone else. I'm gaining a better understanding of what doesn't exactly work for me, but am far from nailing down what does. Until I learn how to engage in normal unobtrusive conversation as opposed to my barrage of typical first date questions - how many kids do you want? sexual partners you've had? mental illness? will you convert to my religion? who'd you vote for? do you live in your mom's basement and does she iron your jeans? where do you see yourself in 5 years...literally, what location, in what condition, at what point of spiritual comfort? - see, this is why I should not be allowed in public. Truthfully, I will probably never abandon my overly aggressive interrogations of potential suitors, but here's hoping that I may learn to space out some of these preemptive investigative techniques. *removes ninja death grip on Mr. Merlot to cross fingers*