Originally published in the Lavender Lens, July 2010
Good judgment comes from experience, and often experience comes from bad judgment.
– Rita Mae Brown
I awake late one Saturday morning with a heavy head, slightly hungover and having missed a long run with my running group. A smooth, melodic voice-over memory from a piece of kid’s math software I worked on flashes into my memory: “Do you need to regroup?”
The consequences of living a bit out of character, like there are no consequences, for the past few months have made themselves visible on my hips, my bank account balance, and in exceeding my text messages limit. Still, I giggle aloud, shaking my head at the memory of the previous night of knocked over martinis, finding myself in a hot tub with 6 naked gay men, and pancakes at Brians Café at 2AM. Yes. Perhaps it’s time to regroup.
If my summer were divided into chapters, it would go something like: 1. Cookie dough and flapjacks, 2. Sex and the City 3. Dating: WTF? 4. Regrouping is more than just math
When life happens and it comes down to one, cookie dough and nights ending in a hot tub with naked gay men who compliment you are a great crutch, I decide. Then a friend loans me all the Sex and the City DVDs, and suddenly it is as if the distraction of watching 4 friends endure the perils of dating, loving, leaving, and starting over give me some space to ditch the dough and sit in my feelings for awhile. I am hooked and began watching episodes like an addict: during lunch breaks, as I read the paper and drink coffee Sunday mornings, and sneaking in an episode or two before bed. Inspired and feeling a little tired of trying to be a good girl all the time, I decide to let go and just live. I start meeting girls. What is probably known as dating follows, which is wildly unfamiliar to my usual serial relationship self. I realize that the last time I was truly single, girls were wearing pagers, not iphones and there was no Facebook. But then there’s the fun of going out with the Cop, the Basketball Player, and Secret Agent Girl. One particularly rough Saturday, the day an ex brings her new girlfriend to a mutual friend’s party, I realize that the Plumber, my current dating situation, is critical, slightly disengaged and has me feeling rejected. I end the day with a lingering sense of feeling stupid, and wondering “What’s wrong with me?”
I realize then that this is the exact moment when people become bitter. I see myself standing precisely at the point where I can become resentful. Or not. Visualizing myself looking down a fork in the road, I can’t help but wonder, how do I hang on to nice, open me while steering clear of the people-who-aren’t-good-for-me path?
A week later, I am settled in on my brother’s sofa in a big pile of kid-cozy, nieces on either side, a toddler in my lap. As I turn the pages of Elmo books, there’s a pony tail in my face, syrup-sticky hands holding my arm, and teensy little fingers clinging to my necklace. My brother breezes by, laughing and asks, “One exciting Friday night, huh?” I laugh and assure him that he overestimates the fun of singledom. My sister in law turns to me and asks, “Hey are you dating?” I feel my cozy warm place suddenly slip away and an awkward swirly sense replace it. I tell her I’m regrouping and that if dating follows, I’m not opposed. My brother asks suddenly, “Hey what’s the deal with uhauls?” referring to my earlier mentioning of how lesbians tend to pair up after exactly 2 dates. Suddenly I can’t help but wonder: is lesbian relationship bouncing so prevalent because dating is so hard?
I finally conclude my Sex and The City seasons with the final episode of season 6, where Carrie ends up with Big, her he’s-just-not-that-into-you guy. I sit on my sofa cross-legged as the credits roll, pondering the connection between fiction and real life. I realize that as the episodes played over the summer, I evolved from prim and proper Charlotte, to flirtatious, coy Samantha, to a love-skeptical Miranda. I hesitate at love-struck Carrie, not seeing a connection to myself. Then it hits me; hanging onto me, not caving into cynicism about love, and balancing staying hopeful and open, while not taking any nonsense – that is MY Big.