Time and Time Again

I just got off of the phone with a woman that I've seen a few times recently. She went with the "It's not you, it's me." delivery. I can see her point, though, because she's been through a lot, and needs time and space to find and center herself again. I honestly just hope that she finds happiness and peace for herself. I had worried over how depressed she had become, and couldn't do much to help, as I'm in a precarious place myself. Neither of us needs to be in a relationship right now.

I am, children aside, alone. Alone, and terrified, of being alone, of being unloved, of being unworthy. I can't count the number of women that I sent hopeful messages to on various dating sites in the recent past. I can count on one hand the number of responses that I received. The equivalent, to my mind, of approaching a stranger and introducing yourself, having them look at you, and then walk away without acknowledging that there was ever an attempt at interaction. I've decided that dating sites are evil.

I had resolved to engage in things that would, theoretically, put me in contact with other people who shared my interests, thus increasing the odds of meeting a woman that would be compatible with me. I decided shortly after that I wasn't ready. I need to work on myself more. Lose more weight, tone up, bolster my self confidence and esteem. My lady friend this evening brought up an interesting point, though. I shouldn't need to try to make myself perfect in order to believe that I can be loved. I should be loved for who I am. Evidently, I have things to offer.

I've found myself thinking, over the last day or two, about my previously failed relationships. My marriage. Jen. Dawn. They all failed, and they all had one thing in common. Me. In the parenting class that I had to take before my divorce decree could be issued, the instructor gave us an interesting set of statistics. Over half of all marriages end in divorce. The percentage of failed marriages increased dramatically for those remarrying, with increases in failure rate per successive marriage. The theory is that, as you become accustomed to leaving bad relationships, it becomes easier. Serial spouses become accustomed to rationalizing why the relationships failed and walk away without holding themselves accountable. I don't know how true this is, or how it jives with the concept that we should be able to be loved as we are, without changing ourselves to meet the needs of others.

I just know that I keep failing. Failing at responsibility, accountability, maturity, patience. And that it doesn't get any easier. I'm an incredibly fortunate man. I recognize that, whether or not I have someone by my side through my journey, I'm still on this journey. I could focus on not having someone with me, or I could focus on the wealth of beauty and wonder that surrounds me, in a world that does not focus itself on me. I need to be more appreciative, and attentive, giving my all to my children, while I still have this time with them in their youth, time to make memories.

These things are easy to conceptualize, easy to understand, easy to vocalize. Much, much harder to do.