Not that I’m complaining. I’m really grateful that I fell right into the social swing of things and found good friends pretty quickly; they are super “in the know” and hanging with them has allowed me to meet a lot of other great people. Some of them, shockingly, are of the male persuasion.
So despite the busy schedule alluded to previously, I’ve managed to make time for the ever-important dating. But included in this whole shebang is the soul searching I’ve been doing. You see, throughout my years of dating, I have steadfastly maintained that when relationships/associations went awry, it was at least 85% the dude’s fault, and conversely, barely my own fault. (Fault may not be the best word to use, but there you go.) Sure, I knew I wasn’t perfect (yes, I know you are shocked, breathe deep), but I really and truly felt that the insane conditions of dating in this day and age were to blame, and caused a large percentage of men to fall victim to some sort of emotional impediment that prevented them from entering into a satisfying and glorious relationship with Wonderful Moi. (Side note: Good heavens, “associations” sounds like I’m talking about an organization such as a Moose Lodge rather than a connection between two people!)
On the other hand, my dear mother has always claimed that while dating is difficult, I was definitely also contributing to whatever was going on, and that I needed to figure out what (Louis Vuitton) baggage I was carrying and work on getting over it. My reaction was always some variation of “Pshaw!” “Perish the thought!” and/or “Begone!” I never once considered that she was right and always proceeded to tell/harangue her that she was incredibly naïve, having dated in the 60’s and met and married my father at the ripe old age of 22.
However, I’ve really vowed to be serious about dating, now that I’ve embarked on a new life here in this crazy country full of potential dates (or “candystore” as I sometimes call it). And when I recently was involved with someone, and things didn’t work out even though I really wanted them to, I finally listened to my mom and analyzed what had happened.
And I discovered that – GASP! – it was at least 45.7% my own doing! (Don’t quote me on the exact percentage; the decision was to round down rather than round up.) I suddenly realized in a “Eureka!”-type flash that I have a tendency to be quite sensitive, and at the same time, get very riled up at any sort of emotional breach. This means that often, I have not been reacting to the guy in question’s behavior, but rather to a negative association (there I go with that word again) with a past relationship.
I was lying in bed when I had said revelation and I was so startled that I actually sat up and looked around the room. Was I, Zahava, really and truly ready to admit that I needed to change? And that dear old Mom was (at least partially) right? And that going forward, I would need to calmly assess a situation instead of going postal on a dude?
Yes! I can be mature! I can DO this!