Peopling

(Written in chunks for about a week now)

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But no. At thirteen, you’re just going, " ‘Ello, Sue! I’ve got legs! Do you like ... bread?"
-Eddie Izzard, from “Dressed to Kill”

To say I’m distracted this week would be the understatement of the century. In my defense, I’m still recovering (and reacting) from an absolutely amazing weekend. I just hit my one-year mark in Wausau, and I’m trying to get things done at my current apartment so I can start moving in two weeks. It’s not a great week for focus.

Given the recent presence of Valentine’s Day, I’ve also been thinking about relationships.

Not just romantic ones, mind you. I don’t have one of those to contemplate at this point in time. But I spent five days with a lot of people who happen to know me really, really well -- and then returned to Wausau, where there are people who only know me sort of well ... which made me wonder what exactly happened.

Humans are social mammals. We have more than just a desire to be around each other -- it is actually a need, required for the health, safety and perpetuation of the species. College fosters relationships, give them a jumpstart that you can’t get just anywhere; you’re thrown into an unfamiliar situation, luckily surrounded by people who are in the exact same position as you. You have something in common, something to break the ice, right from the beginning. You spend every waking moment around each other, learning things about humanity that you never found when you were in elementary and high school.

And when you abruptly find yourself thrown from this society, you have to adjust.

I haven’t done a great job of that. I live alone in a rather anonymous apartment building, removed from the friends I do have. While I am happy that I don’t need other people around to do the things I normally do (I mean, I used to hate even just going grocery shopping by myself, but I’ve gotten past that), there’s still something missing. A large part of this is that, without this constant exposure thing, I have very little drive or desire to let people really get to know me. It’s far easier to pull back and keep everyone at arm’s length -- and far less risky.

It will be interesting to see how things shift when I move to a house where I know my upstairs neighbor and have far too much space to keep it all to myself all the time. I've missed cooking for crowds ... Maybe it's time that changed.

When it comes to romantic relationships ... Well then. I have a hard time even going near the failure I've had there. I fall for the wrong guys, date the wrong guys, end things poorly, and my personal favorite, frighten guys that I would normally be attracted to ... When I decided to take a break from dating, I didn't really realize how hard it would be to get started again.

I took a break largely because, at the time, I didn't know where I would be six months down the road. I had been in some form of serious relationship for about 90% of college, and since I've never been much good at casual dating, I figured hey, now's a time for a break. And then I moved and ... yeah.

It's interesting. Following a great conversation with Katie sometime around 3AM last Sunday, I've been wondering what exactly happened. There are a couple possibilities, not the least of which is that I haven't been terribly open with the people I have met (which is particularly awkward because then they think I'm odder than I actually am, or at least more stuck-up than I actually am).

But aside from the fact that I haven't met a lot of single men around here that are also anywhere near my age (there are a few at work, but let's face it, that's just a bad idea), I've come to see that I'm comparing all of them to a couple of men from school. These men are great friends of mine, spectacular people, but ... they're not giving much hope to anyone else.

Not that there's been an outcry of disappointment (again, note where I live).

All the same, I'd rather have standards that are a bit on the high side than a bit on the low side. And they're not unreachable by any means. I mean, not every guy I've dated has been a disaster. And there are those two in particular that set the standard. (Yeah, no future there, for some very specific reasons.)

The funny thing? All of this, all these thoughts, can be summed up in one statement: I need to be myself. I'm getting out more than I was before, I'm finally being social -- I'm just not necessarily being me.

Oh, this will be fun.