An open letter to my future ex boyfriends.
I live a loud, full and adventurous life. I lean in and I take care of my people. I work hard and I never stop moving. My Patronus is a humming bird- and that is extremely appropriate. I am not scared. Not of failure or love or strangers or large crowds. I am not perfect, and I do not claim to be. I am afraid of spiders and the questionable structural integrity of decks and tall buildings. I do not make half measures. I am not a good liar, but I am a great bluff at poker. I am honest, always… except when I play Monopoly. I have lots of friends that mean the word to me, and I like to be social. I am generous with my time and energy. I work hard, play harder and love fiercely.
Therefore, it is a highly probable truth that I will become too much for you. That my busy calendar, long list of friends and four thousand jobs will be overwhelming for you. The unending schedule of projects, work events and social engagements, which was originally enticing to you, will be the reason this ends. I will move at the speed of light and you will not keep up. And when you realize the rate at which I operate is not a phase, I am fairly certain that will make you feel like you’re not on the top of my ‘list’.
You will probably not understand that my ‘list’ does not have a top and bottom, my list is a whirling dervish of people, places, projects and purposes. You will not know how to stay afloat in that whirl.
I’m sure you will tell me at some point that the zest with which I live my life is attractive. That my independence is refreshing or invigorating or some other frilly word that people tell each other when they barely know a thing about one another. Eventually, though, you will not know how to keep up, and you will tell me I am selfish.
I will tell you that you are the most important thing, but that will not always, truly, be the case. My priorities will shift and move, they will evolve and devolve and the flexibility that comes with that will not always suit you.
I will love you fiercely, I will give so much of myself to you. I will bend until I break to appease you or please you- but I will still, somehow, be superfluous. I will offer dedicated, unconditional, fierce and fastidious love. I will respect you for your intelligence and humor and success, I will expect the same- and if you do not give it, I will make up excuses for you as to why not.
In the end, it will be ‘my fault.’ Because there will be some primal need I didn’t freely give, or maybe I emasculate you with my power. The sheer force with which I operate will knock you back and when you begin to feel unstable, you will resent me. Blame me. You will think it is me who hasn’t done enough, it was me who wasn’t enough. And I will wager a bet that it is because you never bent for me. You never gave of yourself freely to allow all of the things I offer to be enough, so to you I will become ‘de trop.’
But the truth is I am not “too much”… perhaps you are not enough. Maybe no one will ever be. Perhaps one day I will find someone who is extraordinarily dynamic and passionate like me, maybe I’ll get a few cats and a tattoo of a chip on my shoulder… but one thing is certain.
Life is too short to love someone who isn’t enough for you, or transversely believes you are not enough for them. It is a theory of mine that there is no such thing as someone who is not enough, there are just varying levels of compatibility.
I will not resent you for not keeping pace, I will understand why I wasn’t worthy of a lifetime of patience. I will not be angry with myself if you go, because I will know I tried everything for it to work. I will try not to be jealous of your future happiness or the woman you chose over me to suit your (probably) delicate ego.
I will not be sorry I spent time with you, and I hope you won’t be sorry about our time together either. I will not be resentful, or apologetic, we both probably just did thebesswecould.
And in the end it will be me...
with another someone who filled in the blank.
Wishing you the best,
I used to be cool and smoke.