I dipped my toe into the intimacy topic in February 2020 with a posting titled, “I’m Lonely Too.” Then came postings in March and April 2021, both on intimacy. I said how hard it was for me to talk about my feelings and my fear of being open and vulnerable. I also acknowledged that at this age you’ve got little to lose being vulnerable, “If not now, when?”
Now, 14 months later, I seem to be in the same place, though I feel a little more comfortable talking about it.
I lead a fulfilling and happy life. My children and grandchildren are doing well, I see them each regularly, and everything in my life is pretty much just what I want it to be. But I still miss an intimate relationship, and honestly don’t know whether I’m capable of it.
As the end of my life creeps closer I’m still alone. I interpret that as my ambivalence about being in a relationship. Does that make sense, or is it that I haven’t met the right person? Perhaps I’m still projecting my self-doubts and insecurities onto others and the world. More likely all the above.
As I’ve long known, why we do what we do is largely hidden, especially from ourselves.
Doubts
But it is hard to meet people at this age or at least people whom I feel would be compatible with me physically, mentally, and socially. Am I overthinking? I have a friend who 20 years ago entered an arranged marriage. They now have a delightful family with two children. Their happy life contradicts my assumptions about initial attractiveness (they first met at their wedding) and the accompanying checklist of compatibilities.
Since my wife died, I’ve been in several relationships, entering them with high hopes. With each, something happened, and we went our separate ways. I might be gun shy, though I feel if I met the right person, somebody I felt truly compatible with, that I could let go of the uncertainty.
But that can’t happen quickly. It takes time to get to know a person, and it’s a lot of work, especially if we both have a busy schedule. While I have many planned activities, I do have time to get to know new friends. Sometimes a potential new friend is way too busy, or just wants a friendship, nothing more. Then it’s goodbye and move on — with some disappointment and discouragement.
Acceptance
I understand how easy it is to give up and accept that what I have is as good as it gets. Letting go of hopes and dreams sure simplifies life. My widowed grandmother wore black, clearly defining her status until she died. She lived as the matriarch, in critical judgment of all who stepped outside of her Irish-Catholic rigid rules. That’s one way to go. Not for me.
Life promises only opportunity. That continues until we depart. But it’s very easy to define ourselves in ways that relieve us from making the most of opportunities. I’m the grieving widow, I’m the painful arthritic, I’m the badly done by, I’m passing time until it’s all over, . . . . . . . . .
Right now, I define myself as, “Death will come when it comes, meanwhile I’m doing what feels good. That includes pushing on the edges of things I’ve avoided looking at but should.” And as the topic of this posting suggests, “I want more intimacy — and I want it now! But maybe I’m afraid, and maybe I need help?”
My lurking fear is I’m giving up on high hopes and settling for what is. That’s a bummer.
So, I’m putting it out there, my unfulfilled longing to hold and be held, to touch and be touched. Perhaps some of you also feel this way, “If not now, when?”
I couldn’t have written this post a year ago. I’m a little braver now.
A page from Almost a Rainbow, Joan Walsh Anglund
Walk carefully
Among my dreams
For they are small
And easily crushed
Thank you for reading.
Barry
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