the summer of the spinster is nigh

Saturday morning, somewhere between the farmers market and the friends of the library book sale, Mr. Risky Business and I parted ways.

It had nothing to do with zucchini. Or 50 cent paper backs.

The thing is, I'd been waffling around the idea that maybe this whole thing, romantic as it all was, wasn't going to work out, for a little while. But RB was headed out for a long road trip, and I thought the time apart might be the perfect opportunity to figure out if that idea had any traction. And while he was gone, I missed him. And when he came back, I was more than excited to see him. Thought about nothing else the entire day at work but seeing him. And it was a fabulous feeling.

Unfortunately, though, it didn't take but a few days for that little thought to float right back up to the surface. Only it wasn't so little any more. And it was near about all I could do to keep shoving it under because its powers of flotation were gnarly and unprecedented.

And it had to be pretty obvious that something was bothering me, because I'm pretty much garbage at hiding things like that, and so when Mr. RB asked on Saturday morning, "Is anything bothering you?" I answered in the affirmative. And not five minutes later, it was over.

The thing is, we just weren't as compatible as I'd initially thought. These are the things you find out when you date someone. This is, arguably, the point of dating. To get to know someone, and to get to know how they might fit in to your life and whether or not you're compatible. It seems that being wildly attracted to someone is not actually, all on its own, the key to happiness, though I would argue that in combination with a few other things it is still of supreme importance.

Ultimately the biggest issue was that we just couldn't talk the way I need to talk. The way I talk to my closest friends, the talking about nothing but not running out of things to talk about kind of talking. Observing and analyzing and generally just chitter chattering until you literally fall asleep mid-sentence because you can't even shut up when it's way past your bedtime. Our conversations often felt forced and I often filled in every available blank space of air with my own words. Which, while admittedly entertaining for at least the first little bit, does wear on one after a time. Even me, and God knows never was a hobby invented that I was more suited for than talking about myself.

So the split was about as friendly as something like that really can be. We hugged, and parted ways, and then he stopped by Sunday night to get the birthday present that had been absconded from my front porch (and later replaced, hassle-free, by the fine people at Amazon who have now earned my ringing endorsement for LIFE). Despite the fact that I, my very own self, have written on this very blog several times in the past that I do not believe that men and women can have platonic friendships, I did tell him that I want us to remain friends, because I genuinely do. And hopefully we can prove me wrong on this. I'd very much like it.

As for the next mister? I'm hoping he's very far off. This may be the Single Summer of 2010. I've got a boat load of live music to see (including a gig at a midtown house tonight that promises to be EPIC), happy hours to attend, pools to lounge by and fruity beverages to sip.

And we can't forget all those patios! They're calling my name.


cheers,
elizabeth