The Transit Life

Posted on by howisthatview

I was the luckiest girl in the world. I couldn’t wipe the smile of my face as I glanced in the mirror and assessed my made up face. I giggled as I tried to recall the last evening I spent in my own abode. I came up with a blank. The tingle on my lips and toes prompted my memory from the previous evening; dinner, followed by live music and wine, and an inability to keep our clothes on as soon as we closed his apartment door. I sighed as I rummaged through my toiletries bag. The feeling of trepidation built in the pit of my stomach. I yanked each item out of the toiletries bag. Somehow I knew my hairbrush was not there. I glared at the production line of makeup and moisturisers on the vanity. “Damn it!” I said to myself. Suddenly I recall my last encounter with the said hairbrush. I clearly pictured the exact spot my hairbrush laid dormant on my dresser like an Icelandic volcano. I glanced in the mirror at my once shiny straight style of last night now flailed around my ears and frizzed around the top of my head in a vigorous attempt at a human’s birds nest. My colleagues would take one look at me and know what I had been up to last night. I forced my fingers through the stressed deadlocks to form a topknot at the top of my head as I giggled once again.

Living in transit had its perks; toe curling kisses and those precious moments when he guided my head into his chest and made my cheek snuggle into his chest, like we were made for each other. There were also those times I yearned for my own bed and shower. And yet, I feel so blessed to know we were on the same page about our future. The expiration date of this transit life was in 6 months.

I Have Never Felt This Way Before

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He looks at me like I am his goddess. 3 months and 6 days ago I met him. Golden brown eyes glowed amber as his gaze met mine over coffee. My mouth ached from the constant smile on my face, as our laughter thundered through the cafe. Genuine caring and kindness flooded my conscious with warmth, as acceptance, encouragement and intellectual conversation flowed during our river walks, breakfast and dinner dates.  Our early morning chatter was encumbered by giggling fits and passionate embraces. We held each other so tight we would never let each other go.

So much has happened since our first date. His transparency in thought, such as how he thought I was the most beautiful being on earth and I was the most special person to him in the world seemed surreal, like I was floating on cloud nine. Such candid conversation encouraged me to open the gate to the years of heartbreak and disappointment that barricaded my heart. I felt his breath on my neck as I moaned in anticipation of what was to come, as he continued to greet me with a warm, tight embrace. I melted into his touch whenever his lips or hands met mine. Being away from him felt alien and unnatural, like I had lost a limb or the capacity to breathe deeply. I was caught off guard by the knowledge that I had started to surrender to the way I felt. The brief moment of anxiety made me catch my breath, followed by a wave of reassurance as I recalled his words and actions of affection and assurance. I know this is not like anything I had felt before.

WHEN HE DIDN’T CALL OR TEXT.. AGAIN!

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The Stages of Grief in Modern Dating Life

I just wanted this, with HIM, to be over. I stared straight ahead, my hand on the keys dangling from the ignition. It was if I was being choked by paralytic emotion; not being able to speak or do anything. The uncertainty of not knowing if, or when, he will show up made my stomach drop. It seemed inevitable he would enter my life again. I felt powerless. I still did not know what I would do when he did show up. Multiple possible scenarios flicked before my eyes much like a wheel at a casino. Firstly, I pictured myself embracing him with affection and then almost felt myself slam the door in his face.

The idiosyncrasies of human emotion are like the weather here in Brisbane. We know there are four seasons that come and go like clockwork every year. Sometimes the depth and duration of a winter’s cold breath was longer and deeper than expected. At other times, a summer would spread across the other seasons, making Autumn and Spring feel like a mere whisper of what they could have been. We can always rely on the seasons to progress year after year, much like human emotions in the stages of grief.

The stages of grief are pretty straight forward when you think about it; anger, denial, bargaining, depression and acceptance (Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, 1969). Knowing such things in life about grief does not mean you are able to apply such knowledge when you are personally involved. Take myself for instance. Just because I am a well-educated professional with significant life experience, it does not mean I am fully able to apply such knowledge or stop my own paralytic grief. However, it does help me experience and understand emotion more than the average person. My uncanny ability to navigate these stages quickly and efficiently has increased due to the amount of times I have had to  experience grief and loss in my intimate relationships. It took me less than 4 weeks to do this with HIM again.

The denial appeared when I ignored his first text. The anger came when he didn’t respond, ghosted me and gaslighted me through his portrayal of familiarity and a possible future relationship. The narcissistic tendencies emerged further in the form of calling me crazy when I questioned his actions and statements.  The bargaining surfaced when I expressed my lack of desire to be with him if he continued to treat me terribly.

This current stage I found myself in, depression, was the hardest stage to work through. I was over feeling like this because of HIM. A car drove by and jolted me out of my misery. I sighed as I started the ignition and made a right hand turn towards home. I knew I had to let myself feel these human emotions so I could move forward to accept what is, and have faith in what will be. Somehow I was aware once I entered that final state of acceptance, I would be able to let go of these emotions, once and for all, and find my future life partner. Little did I know that once I did that, I was able to see what was around the corner; and by around the corner, I mean that absolutely literally!

Swipe Right for Life..Right!?!

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I click the upload button. I watch as my pitch for the love of my life, encompassed by a couple of fun, Gen Y emojis and selfies, launched my first cyber dating experience. I recall the reassurances of my fellow tinderellas as I stare at the screen; “..this is how people meet these days…”, and “ .. what have you got to lose?”

Oh my god, what am I doing!?! Never would I have imagined that at 31 years of age, I would rely on technology to find myself the one. The chaotic rush of overwhelming emotions flooded my senses as I clutched my head and dialled the person.  I hear the click of the voicemail; “Hi you’ve reached Sarah, I can’t come to phone right now…”. I hang up the phone with a heartfelt sigh. The white noise relentlessly returned with a vengeance and consumed my thoughts. Everyone is doing it, remember? It’s all about technology. You’re too old to meet a friend of a friend anymore; been there, done that and where did that get you? Everyone is shackled up married with kids and you have nothing! You wake up alone, every holiday season with that dull ache of emptiness inside you. I jump up and carelessly toss my mobile on the bed. I breathed in deeply as I paced the hallway and recalled the reason why I subjected myself to the Tinder. My pulse calms along with my thoughts. What was the harm? I had nothing to lose. I changed into my training gear and glance back to the phone on my bed. I opened the door and left my apartment without a further thought.

I remember how we first met like the effortless performance of a polished monologue. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had made me laugh, let alone my lips tingle from their first kiss. I wanted to feel like that again. I needed to feel like that again; to know that there was hope. I enter my apartment, skin glistening from soccer training. Before I knew it, my phone was in my hands and I began my first Tinder experience. My thumb ached as the rhythm of constant swiping made my eyes blur. Then, I pause. He caught my eye, and to this day I do not why. I explore his profile, noting the boy toys in the form of a sports car and jet ski. His profile screamed ‘player’. The last photograph intrigued me as I took in the pressed long sleeved business shirt. That smile. The office setting. Those hazel eyes! I felt like I was staring straight into his soul. Such a genuine shot made me wonder what made him feel the need to portray himself like a player in the previous photos. I hope he is taller than me or at least my height! Am I just finding an excuse to swipe right on someone who appears to be a player? Maybe, most definitely, who knows? Regardless, I knew I needed some fun before my mid-life crisis trip in 6 months. My life, consumed by my hectic schedule tired me and screamed responsibility. I was over being the good one. The responsible one. I felt like a robot. I swiped right. My pulse roared in my ears as I saw the words “it’s a match” appear on my screen. I gasp in hopeful anticipation of what was to come. As much as I hoped I swiped right for life, I prepared myself for the possibility of the party boy player. Little did I know such a thought was a prelude for what was to happen next.

Dear Mr Right

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To the Love of my Life,

You are out there. I may already know you. I give you permission to love me. I am ready.

Please come at me and give me the best hug in the world; make me feel safe cared for and protected. Be the calm to my storm. Be my escape. Be the one. With that smile. That touch. Sense of humour and kind heart. Settled.

Make it known and obvious. Put me first or almost always first. I will love you with all I am and all I have to give . It’s our time. You know where I will be.

Love,

Suzette

The Love Roller Coaster

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Dating in my thirties is like a roller coaster. I approach the scheduled date with glee, ensuring I have the right attire for the ride, along with kick ass underwear, minty breath and statement lipstick. The stages of excitement, boredom and apprehension cycle and build, as I wait in line to claim my first experience on the brand new thriller. I fantasise about how I’m going to feel the push and vibration of the ride as it steadily takes off, inch by inch, up the first slope, ensuring I am adequately protected with the supplied safety gear, and all valuables are stored away safely. My heart accelerates along with the pounding in my ears, as I scream in anticipation as we reach the top of the slope and begin to hit top speed, taking the first of many dives twists and loops down. We circle again and again, until finally we come to a stand still. Breathless, I glance beside me and determine whether I remain seated, or make a swift exit; sometimes I am interrupted by outside factors which can force my hand.

It seems that all it takes is one casual message, asking how I am, with a frigging smiley emoji, for me to anticipate another ride on the roller coaster. I suddenly have this burst of energy in a smile and bouncy steps as I hastily ready myself for trivia that evening. It has been many roller coaster rides, over 2 years, since I met him and I still feel this way. My mind is bombarded by internal white noise as I leave my apartment. Should I be considering another roller coaster ride? Why is he messaging me? What am I going to say in response?