Heartbreak II

There are a couple of things in my life that I wish were very different. Heartbreak number one is a very tender place for me that I'm not sure I could ever write about in a public way. (Maybe. We'll see.)

But Heartbreak number two is so darn predictable! It is about finding a person here in Flint that I could love. (I know some of you will stop reading here. Why is this guy so stuck on finding someone?)

The men I've been attracted to here in Flint have included a few "types." This first is the heterosexual and married colleague. Oh, there are a couple of these in the Heartland District. I'm able to have a laugh at my own expense about this absurdity, even as I ponder the statistical virtual impossiblility of the very low nmbers of gay men in the UU ministry in this part of the country.

A second type is the man who starts coming to church in hopes of snatching a husband. This has happened a couple of times in
Flint, and I have to say that I'm able to keep my "pastor" hat on pretty tightly, and so I am easily able not to let myself go down a path that will lead to shared disappointment.

And then in the community outside the church, where I might go looking, there is that third group of untouchables, the already taken. A couple of the capital-F-finest men in Flint are already married (in one case I can think of, to each other!) and I can just sigh. Along with everyone else.

I have made a couple of forays into the world of dating, and hope I've learned something about myself. I really adore my friend Jack. He's smart and well read. He's funny and thoughtful. He's a little gossipy--but I guess I fall in there, too. Of course he is older and rounder than any sweetheart I've ever had, but I'm older and rounder, too. But when it comes to relationships, Jack's come to the place where he thinks he's just going to live his life alone. And so he's just not open to having a sweetheart.

I resolved myself to our being friends, and that's working out just fine.

There is another person that I've pursued as a potential mate. It has been quite frustrating. Lots of mixed messages about what I might expect, assurances that I'm really important and then lots of indicators that I'm not. And on Sunday night, as we sat on the back porch (wait a minute, I'm supposed to call it a deck now that I'm all middle class), I realized that I was not in this place for the first time.

Years ago, after the end of the first relationship that otherwise would have been called a marriage (seven years!), I was told by my partner that he thought our life together would have been something else, more "Cole Porter, more elegant parties and witticisms." What? It seemed that we had not been living a gay life together, he had been attempting to live the Idea of a gay life with me. And as he was committed to that Idea, I was persistent with him (and supportive and loyal) in trying to be his partner, in giving him space to grow into himself, in allowing him plenty of space (in which to disappoint me) to grow into affection and warmth and gentle happiness. And I'd listen to him sing (he's a baritone) but we'd seldom make music together.

Here I was, on Sunday night, sitting with a man that I find generally attractive and with whom I enjoy a movie or a dinner chat, and who I've been happy to hear sing (but with whom I've never . . . made music). And i realized that I was having the Idea of a date, the Idea of a relationship, but not just a fond a friendly relationship with a (real) gay men.

This guy has never responded warmly to my touch. Never happily snuggled on a couch (well, maybe once on a cold night in front of a warm fire--but that didn't lead to anything closer, and maybe it's all in my head anyway). Never gently put his arm around me at a movie, barely allowed out lips to touch when seeing each other in a safe place.

It was easy for me to ask, "What's wrong with him?", but more important to ask, "What's wrong with me?", that I put myself in a position to be so sorely disappointed. Am I just living, once again, in a relationship that has no where to go, and am I expecting that it will sustain me in my life.

I was happy that I got a chance to share some of this heartbreak the other night. He changed the subject when it got too close. I understand that. But I think in facing Heartbreak number two, I need to face more clearly the terrific anxiety I have about being alone and even to examine the spiritual strength that I've exhibited in being painfully alone these past four years. And get real about when the dating is leading nowhere, and more honestly either move on or find satisfaction in being alone (for now).

And be happy to make more friends.

The little rain we got last night leaves the back yard verdant this morning. And I'm awake! I'm awake!

Good morning.