Writing and talking are great therapy. This morning I led a music therapy session,and my chosen topic was decision making. A friend who has worked in the psychiatric field for many years is of the opinion that most of us who choose as a career some sort of therapy are trying to heal ourselves. There is some truth to that. Today, when I shared about an impulsive decision concerning a relationship that ended badly, I guess I was sort of healing myself. This is the first time I have written about that little adventure. So here goes:
I returned to school in 1998 to pursue a career in music therapy. My first day of class I met a guy. He was quite a bit younger than me (not a problem, I assure you!), and pretty cute. He seemed smart, funny, and quite smitten with me. I found myself smitten right back. I couldn't remember the last time I had a date, and hadn't been interested in anyone eons. So Mr. X and I got together. Our first date was a music festival. We had a good time. Looking back, I think I was flattered by all the attention. Yes, that had to be it! A couple of months went by, and it began to dawn on me that this guy had imtimacy issues (emotional and physical). Ever had to always ask your boyfriend for a kiss? Shouldn't be happening! I slowly began to realize that he was, well, goofy. There is just no other word to describe him. Still, I thought I was in love. But in my gut I knew he was all wrong for me. My family couldn't stand him. And they are a pretty tolerant bunch. I should stop here and state that he isn't a bad person. Just goofy. He got on everyone's nerves but mine. Spring rolled around, and I was miserable. I didn't even get a Valentine present! We had a big fight when he stood me up for a movie date, and when my temper had cooled down, we had the "Talk". I told him I wanted to know where I stood with him, and it was time to either fish or cut bait. He chose the latter, saying he wasn't ready to give me what I needed. He said he loved me, that he wanted to marry me, but he needed "time". So I gave it to him. He said he hoped I found someone that was worthy of me. I said I hoped so, too. Good-bye and good riddance.
I still had to see him most school days, and he acted just like nothing happened. He would sit down and try to make conversation with me, and say stuff like, "hi. how are things going?" "are you going to the play tonight?" "want to sit together?" I was civil, but cool. So he goes to one of my friends and asks, "is she mad at me?" I wasn't mad. I just wanted to get along with my life. I wanted to finish school and find a good job. I wanted to meet someone I could talk with intellegently; who appreciated music in the same way I do; who is kind and compassionate and at least a little socially adept.
Mr. X was a learning experience. I learned a little more about what I want and don't want in a man. I can be thankful for one thing: we never had sex. I didn't give him that part of me. He didn't deserve it. I don't hate him. And I wish him well. May we both find what we are looking for.