Fear and Self-Loathing in Southern California, or Only Love Can Break Your Heart

He hides his head inside a dream
Someone should call him and see if he can come out.
Try to lose the down that he’s found.
Only love can break your heart
Try to be sure right from the start
Yes only love can break your heart

And thus, my dear readers, ends another thrilling chapter of my Dating Game. Señor Grant gave me the boot, a few days ago, about 3 months after our initial flirtation, although actually I think I scored the technical KO by telling him first that I didn’t think it was a good idea to be seeing him anymore. After his swift affirmative response, I quickly tried to jump back into the ring, painfully aware of my impulsivity, but it was too late, he had already moved on, perhaps just waiting for me to do the dumping all along.

So how did I blow this thing? Well, it all started when I told him I cared about him. As soon as I shared my feelings he suddenly ceased any kind of affectionate or romantic exchange. Remember he lives in another town, so we didn’t get to see each other that much. When not in physical contact, we had only language, our courting conducted via phone and text. He was romantic, attentive, responsive, excited… until the moment I told him I cared. I was so completely discombobulated, like waking up in Backwards Land. I tried talking about it, which only frustrated him. For the last month we’ve been tussling over this, while simultaneously feeling more and more physically connected. I couldn’t make any sense of what was going on.

Finally, he confessed that he just wasn’t ready to open himself up, that he was drawn to me initially because I represented something that he’d always wanted, the potential for a mature relationship. Somehow his plan didn’t include me feeling anything and certainly not expressing it, my enthusiasm welcomed like the swine flu.

He related my behavior to his own personal experience—pining after someone not interested in him, and still carrying around the shame of his actions and ultimate rejection. It unnerved me to be compared to this version of himself that he described as being “emotionally crippled,” and I feel wrongly rejected because he closed his eyes to who I am and where my actions were coming from. I made no demands and had no expectations of him other than welcoming my feelings in whatever way he was ready for, and treating me in a way that was appropriate to what our bodies were doing.

But, alas, he just wasn’t ready to feel or express anything beyond fear, and steadily and unwaveringly turned from my advances, Daphne fleeing from Apollo, Eros’ golden arrow having pierced my heart, the lead one his. I went from A Date With Judy to feeling like Liam Neeson in that movie where he wakes from a coma and his wife (was it January Jones?) denies even knowing him, his identity erased.

I’m really disappointed that I couldn’t have been more respectful or even aware of his boundaries, and that I screwed this up because of feeling something and not knowing how to contain or express it appropriately. I’m deeply confounded by the notion that I pushed him away by loving him.

But what can I do? I have to accept that I can’t make him feel anything he’s not ready for, or just not feeling. Whatever the reason, I don’t have to understand why, just to accept it, and henceforth to navigate more carefully through the treacherous waters surrounding Emotionally Crippled Island. Arr…