I listened to the Hamilton soundtrack and the book about the making of the show on my long drive down from Ohio to Texas over the past two days.
Hamilton was a prodigious writer. This was both a good thing (got him to New York, got him a job with Washington, wooed his future wife, helped get people’s support for the constitution) and a bad thing (see The Reynolds Affair pamphlet).
My lack of action as of late in my dating life has me wondering what effect my writing has had, specifically the email I sent to L.
I know he was taken by surprise. In his longer reply, he/we left it open for later. We are still on speaking terms, though there has been no mention or attempt to resume anything. I don’t know that there will be.
Twenty hours in a car by yourself – even with music and talking from the stereo – gives you a lot of time to think.
I paint a nice picture in my head. I list out the things and qualities that got me smitten. Was I attracted more to P at the beginning? Yes. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t intrigued by L. Our first date could have gone a bit better. He wasn’t relaxed for quite some time on the date.
L challenged me. Not quite in a Benedict and Beatrice sort of way, though we could volley words back and forth quite well. Granted, sometimes he stung me (“calm down W”), but I also know I take things too personally.
L was smart. The smartest guy I’ve gone on a date with, at least academically if not intelligence-wise. He knew his shit to a certain extent.
L was sweet, to a certain extent. It wasn’t a saccharine sweetness. It wasn’t artificial or overwhelming.
L was mature. We could have honest conversations. I appreciated that.
… I realize I might just be putting a positive spin on things because it is the holidays and the holidays are always a time when I feel the pangs of loneliness the most. It is the time of the year when I think about not having a partner to share my life with.
I have been partnered around the holidays before; however, he spent Christmas on a work-site in another state rather than with his family or with me. That was rough.
I am just thinking a lot about L and the consequences of my writing. It is hard to say that I miss him exactly because it is hard to miss someone who didn’t communicate with you that often to begin with.
Perhaps what I miss is what it might have been.
My dating advisory council (one person) tells me that the reason I’m missing him is because he was intriguing to me, I’m bored, and I’m wondering “What if.” Yet if I go back to trying to get with him, I’ll likely end up back where I was, frustrated with wishy-washiness.
I am tempted to issue a mea culpa, although it could make me seem a little off-balance and untrustworthy. By that I mean I obviously could not be trusted to hold my ground when it came to my declaration of needs/wants.
I suppose part of my desire to issue a mea culpa is knowing that the dating field in Northeast Ohio is a shitshow. I know it basically is everywhere that is not a large metropolis, but especially in my immediate area. I need someone on my level (highly educated, single, employed, in their 30s) and those are few and far between. Even fewer are ones that I click with. That is not to say that I would choose L out of desperation. Internet dating and apps have created a plethora of choices, thus allowing people to be more selective. At what point does my high selectiveness narrow my options to non-existent?
Turning back to Hamilton, I am basically torn, wondering if I threw away “my shot.”
If, like Angelica, I was too quick to draw conclusions and will never be satisfied.
Rewind… rewind… rewind…
Edited to Add:
Holy shit. It has only been two fucking weeks since the email exchange transpired. It felt like it had at least been 6 weeks.
I started communicating with another guy, been flaked out on, and then ghosted on within this time frame – all referring to Murdock.
Holidays, man. The sense of longing is real.
My resolve is gone. That whole “he’s gonna have to earn me back” – ha.
I know I don’t want to be with someone who is not into me and who doesn’t demonstrate that in some way. I know I don’t want to live in the margins of someone else’s life. But it is really hard not to rationalize everything and make excuses as to why things could have gone a different way.