expectations

I want to be that person for him. The girl who can’t wait to see him, to wake up next to him every morning, to spend as much time as possible together. But I’m not.

Do you think there’s something wrong with me?

That I don’t know how to love?

If I were in love, really in love, I’d be happy to see him every day. Morning, noon and night.

That’s normal, right?

But there is no normal, is there? We do what we can with who we are.

I want to be that person for him. The girl who can’t wait to see him, to wake up next to him every morning, to spend as much time as possible together.

But I’m not.

It makes me feel calculated and cold. When really, I am charming and warm, as long he doesn’t expect too much from me.

Expectations.

It’s a loaded word, literally.

Esther Perel says we expect too much from relationships.

“Why is love so difficult? People come with a history of attachment, around trust, respect, gender, and their bodies.

People come either having experienced too much attention or too little attention. Each person comes with their relational dowry to their relationships. Then they have expectations that with you, I am never going to feel that way anymore. I'm never going to feel alone. I'm never going to have to worry about being abandoned. I'm never going to be suffocated. I'm going to be loved as is.

I mean, there is an enormous mythology over this person that's going to rid me of all my internal turmoils.”

He comes from a place of wanting validation that he is loved, important, and needed just as he is.

I come from a place of wanting tangible examples that I am safe, secure, and supported just as I am.

Neither one of us can give each other what we want. I don’t have the endless emotional tenderness to pour into him. I get bored, constantly having to reassure him, be focused on him, and make him central in my life. There are many things that I value equally and more so than our romance. He does not have the grounded stability or resources to provide me with a pragmatic sturdy container that I can femininely float in. He devoted his life to the spiritual path a decade ago and with it gave up many of the comforts and advantages of modern life.

I respect and admire his choices.

And I also know what I want in a partner.

It’s not that I don’t love him. I do.

It’s just that, l have learned that love is not enough. In the long term, if we want to think that far ahead, we have to consider the impact of our different wants and expectations and whether we can work through them.

So now we find ourselves in that silent cycle of unintentional tug of war.

Where I, the avoidant one, keep looking for more space, creating distance in the relationship. And he, the anxious one, keeps trying to pull me closer to soothe himself that the love he wants in the way he wants it is there.

Do I have commitment issues?

It has been said by men before. Hurt men. Sad men. Men that were disappointed that I didn’t choose them.

I am committed to many things. My health, my life, my creativity, my cat, my friendships.

But committing to a man takes more than a couple of months of dating and some sweet words. It is hard for me to trust someone enough to fully surrender my life to one person.

Sitting with my expectations, to offer myself an opportunity for growth and self-revelation, I consider this desire I have. To live a life that is filled with uncertainty and momentum, but to be met by another with a life that offers security and certainty.

I want a man with a big house I can share with him who loves me and has his own pursuits that take up his time so I do not feel the weight of his expectations on me.

I want a busy man.

I want a man who can provide so that I can bring fun, joy and nurturing.

If I had that, then would I want a spiritual man, an emotional man, a man who understands me?

I feel restless in that existential kind of way.

Like I’ve been in a supernatural transformation for too long where the old ways don’t fit and the new ones haven’t yet arrived.

My mind wants so desperately to figure it out.

What am I supposed to be doing?

Who am I now?

I’m asking questions that my mind can’t answer.

This internal innovation happens outside of the mind. Something new wants to emerge. I can sometimes taste the tendrils of what’s coming. An expanded, softer version of the world. More peace. More love. More kindness. More beauty.

Maybe I don’t know what I want.

I certainly don’t know who I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposed to be doing right now.