Timing Is Everything

When I met Dave, I was coming off of a year-long relationship sabbatical. I made a conscious effort to NOT get seriously involved with anyone until I could get to a point where I was ok being alone. I had ended a relationship in 2007 that left me emotionally shattered and unsure of myself. I needed to spend some quality time figuring out who I was and who I wanted to be, both in and out of a romantic relationship.

The catalyst for Romantic Rehab turned out to be my job at Clark. I wasn't looking for a new job exactly. I wasn't completely unhappy with my work at The Cock, but just had the vague, underlying feeling that I would be happier somewhere else. I half-heartedly sent them my resume but didn't expect anything to come of it.

After the shock of getting hired wore off, I had a realization: They hired me because they think I can do the job. As simplistic as this epiphany was, it gave me a much-needed jolt of confidence. Hey! I got a job that I applied for! If I can do that, maybe I can do other things too... Maybe I don't have to settle for dating emotionally unavailable men! Maybe I deserve to be with someone who adores me and makes me happy!*

A few months into my new life, I also realized that not being in a relationship was... fine. I woke up every day, went to a job I didn't hate, made a lot of new friends and just generally enjoyed myself. I got re-hooked on rock climbing and yoga which served to boost my confidence even higher. I can climb 5.11! (sometimes) I can hold chaturanga dandasana without falling on my face! (sometimes) I can be SINGLE AND HAPPY, DAMMIT! Only this time, it was actually true. I wasn't trying to convince myself that I was ok. I was ok! For the first time in years, I was truly content with my life.

I still wasn't actively looking for a boyfriend, however. I dated some, here and there, but nothing serious or lasting. I refused to be sucked into anything less than amazing just for the sake of being in a relationship. I no longer needed someone else's approval to feel good about myself, I had plenty of legitimate reasons to like me and no reason to settle for something that wasn't quite right.

When Dave and I (finally!) got together, the timing could not have been better. I was happy with my life as it was, and not looking for a boyfriend to complete me. The more time we spent together, the more I realized that this was a far, far cry from anything I had ever experienced. Not only was I happier than I had ever been, but I didn't have to change anything about myself to be in a relationship. We loved each other BECAUSE of the things that make us US (flaws, quirks, personality) rather than IN SPITE OF THEM. Dave commented once that he wished we could have met each other earlier. Not me. I'm glad he didn't know me in my Tumultuous Twenties when I was half-crazy and struggling with my sense of self. I'm glad we met when I was the Most Me I've Ever Been.

Returning from a recent trip to Niagara Falls, after spending the better part of two days in the car, we got to talking about what makes this relationship different from others that we have been in. Somewhere outside of Albany, Dave came up with what I think sums it up perfectly: Neither of us is giving anything up to be together.

*In the spirit of full disclosure, I also read "Better off wed?: Fling or Ring--How to Know Which Finger To Give Him" which is the only self-help book that didn't make me want to jab my eyes out.

Slow Loris

I've never really considered myself the marrying type. Strange then, perhaps, that my dating career has taken the form of serial monogamy. I've never really dated, as such. I guess I've always sort of been looking for someone I wanted to spend my life with - and jumping from relationship to relationship while doing it. But, whenever I'd think about the future, it just never seemed to include the person I was with at the time. I suppose I just gave up looking at some point and started thinking of relationships as convenient ways to pass the time.

I suppose, then, that this sort of explains the string of events that untied themselves when I met Jess. I'm a climber, Jess is a climber. We each needed a climbing partner to kick our respective butts into climbing. We enjoyed each other's company, we climbed and Jess even got me back into yoga. I thought a couple of times about whether we could be more than just friends, but I was in another relationship, albeit an un-fulfilling one, and just not ready to shake things up. And then... well, things got shaken up for me. In startlingly rapid sucession, I found myself disentangled and in Jess' arms. It was the most natural thing in the world. And I found myself wondering why it had taken me so long.

Changes in Policy

I was never really looking for a husband. Any ideas I had about marriage centered around retro housewife fantasies where I did not have to go to work during the day and instead would pop Valium and come up with elaborate meals to have ready for my hard working man when he got home. I would eagerly await his return from the office in pearls and heels with a perfectly mixed Manhattan at the ready. And maybe a drink for him too.

I was never one of those girls who "dreamed about her wedding day" and in all honesty never thought it was something that would happen to me. In fact, I was happily looking forward to a life full of cats and old issues of National Geographic piled clear to the ceiling, punctuated with visits from concerned acquaintances who would check in to make sure I was not pinned underneath a toppled stack of periodicals with my face half eaten away by hungry felines.

I was, however, looking for a climbing partner.

I've always had a very strict policy against dating people I climb with. I'd seen many unhappy couples fighting at the crags and I just couldn't imagine mixing relationship drama with one of the things that usually made me happy. At this point in my dating life, I couldn't imagine a relationship that wasn't fraught with drama and hysteria, so I made a conscious effort to keep them separate.

So, Dave and I started off climbing and then progressed to yoga and bourbon. We were friends. Good friends. Friends who had whole conversations about being friends. And that's a pretty sure sign that we both wanted to be more than friends. Of course it was more complicated than that. He had a girlfriend and I had a non-climber-dating policy and no desire to start filling out the required paperwork in triplicate in order to make a change.

I mean, obviously I thought he was about the cutest boy I'd ever met and enjoyed spending time with him and marveling about how well we got along, but climbing! I was convinced that dating and climbing could not coexist. Oh, and when someone tells me that they are off the market, that's pretty much all I need to scratch them off the "Potential Boyfriend List."

Therefore, I didn't think anything about it when my "Non-boyfriend potential climbing partner" asked if I wanted to go out for a beer one Saturday night. And there we were, things rolling along like normal, contented conversation over beer (IPA for me, Stout for him) until, in a natural break in the conversation, I noticed that my BFF was giving me a decidedly BF look.

That, as they say, is history. Once we established that neither of us had anything holding us back, girlfriends or outdated policies, we stayed up all night talking and smiling and rewriting the rules. I have since realized that something I love, whether bourbon or climbing, is that much better when shared with someone who loves it as much as I do. Especially if he's the man I'm going to marry.