I lead an extraordinarily privileged life, almost entirely filled with activities I enjoy. But one thing was missing, an intimate relationship. I may have found that. Here’s how this short journey has been so far.
I met my new friend over coffee several weeks ago. I was charmed by the quality of our conversation. We did not talk much about our past lives and what we have done or achieved. It’s hard to remember most of what we discussed because it was so perfectly ordinary and simple it wasn’t memorable, except for the experience itself. I don’t recall (ever) feeling so casually and quickly open and connected.
For me, a first meeting is often the last because:
♦ The other person talks too much, sometimes almost entirely.
♦ It’s not a conversation, it’s serial monologues, not a dialogue.
♦ The conversation is mostly about events out there or in the past, not concrete feelings or experiences.
♦ It’s just generally strained – me hoping it’s over soon.
This coffee conversation was not like that. We agreed to meet again at my house and walk down Tennessee Valley in Marin to the beach. That day we spent about nine hours together and both of us felt we could just keep talking. We planned to get together a few days later for dinner at her house, sharing the cooking.
A Message from Down Under
Two days after our walk, my subconscious sent a message. For several years I’ve been a member of Age Song, a group of seniors that meets weekly to discuss this stage of life. The parent organization is collecting member stories and their experience in Age Song groups. It was my turn to be interviewed, by the facilitator of my weekly group. The interview protocol covered the usual suspects — background, parents, career path, education, experience with Age Song, and so on. However, one question stopped me in my tracks, “Is there anything missing from your life?” I choked up and temporarily couldn’t talk.
When I calmed down, I said, “No,” then explained. “I’ve been looking for somebody who could complete the one thing I miss, an intimate relationship. I think I may have found that person.” My interviewer-facilitator friend said, “I’m so happy for you Barry.”
Driving home I thought about why her question had hit me so emotionally. I’ve been looking for the right partner for a long time. In several longish-term relationships, I always felt there was something missing, mostly around a comfortableness to easily say what I’m thinking or feeling. With most pieces of my life pretty much in place, I felt that an intimate relationship would complete the arch of this final stage of my life.
All the Pieces
That’s a structural metaphor because at some level a close companion is like the other pieces that make my current life so fulfilling: family, writing, volunteering, exercising, friends, and so on. These are the basic pieces for my happy life, and I know it’s what you do with these pieces — with what walks in your door — that makes all the difference.
The pieces are the structure for my actions and experiences. If it’s true that my structure is now complete, then it’s now up to me to actively make the most of it. My unconscious seems to be quite worked up about this, for example, I was one hour early for the interview. That’s simply not like me. And it’s been hard to focus on what to write for this middle-of-the-month posting – until I recognized, once again, that the purpose of this blog is describing my experience at this time of life, and this is certainly where I am right now.
I’m generally a happy camper, with a smile on my face most of the day. Now that smile is a little wider as I’m planning with my new friend how we will slowly move forward, learning about each other, building our developing relationship gently and caringly into our lives. We are just beginning.
Being so deliberate and conscious about this is new for me. I’m thrilled. Can you tell?
Thank you for reading.
Barry
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