Dating & Unicorns

I remember when I was little I used to be such a water baby.  I loved the water, I loved swimming, I loved every little thing about it.  As a chunky kid - yes, looking at pictures now I was chunky, I wasn't huge, I wasn't this fat blob I told myself I was in my head - the weightlessness of being in the water was my first experiences with disassociating.  My fertile imagination dreamt up in depth scenarios where I was shipwrecked on a deserted island and there wasn't anyone around for miles or I was a beautiful mermaid with my long hair floating in the water behind me.  I floated on my back, my eyes closed, the sun on my face.....and I just felt all the things that I didn't feel in reality or on land; happy, beautiful, safe, at peace.  This was my safe place.  No matter how horrible or hurting I was I could go to the water and I would almost automatically feel that serenity.  Yet despite this being such a wonderful place for me, I still plugged my nose every time I went under water.  I was convinced that if I didn't the water would come rushing in my nose, I'd choke and drown.  Squeezing my nose was my protection, my control.  If I did that, I'd be fine.

I'm not really sure whether it was that part of me that craved what had become my normal of feeling out of control and in danger or if it was my stubbornness that no one could tell me I couldn't do something that led me to make the climb up the stairs to the high diving board at the Lindsay Rec Centre.  I know that I had a few botched attempts, one where I was actually standing on the diving board and had to shoo people out of my way to do the climb of shame back to the bottom 'cuz I wussed out.  But finally I got to the top, my pride wouldn't let me turn around this time and I stood at the edge of the board, out of my mind with fear.  It was deep, really deep there and I tried to think logically about what would happen, I'd jump (no fancy diving here, just your standard leap of faith) my fingers clamped around my nose would stop the water from rushing in and flooding my brain - I was a bit hazy on biology at the time, I didn't understand that if water came in my nose it would go in my lungs - and I'd hit the bottom and push off and swim safely to the top.

The first part went off without a hitch, I jumped.  The second part, not so much.  As I hit the water at top speed my hand was wrenched from my nose.  I freaked.  Silently, in my head...and I couldn't get my hand back up to my nose no matter how hard I tried.  It took longer than I thought to hit the bottom...my panic made everything go in slow motion, my heart nearly stopping as I waited....and waited

for my feet to hit the bottom so that I could push myself off the bottom of the pool and rocket to the top. When finally my feet hit the bottom I was desperate, I launched myself up off the bottom as hard as I could but still time seemed to stand still and it was taking so long for me to reach the surface.  My lungs were burning.  I clawed at the water.  I kicked as hard as I could, lifting my face upwards, searching for the surface.  Just when I thought I would have to give in and take in a deep breath for my oxygen starved lungs my face broke the surface.  I spluttered and coughed (and yeah a little snot came out), gasping for air and swam to the edge of the pool and pulled myself out of the water and shakily walked to the diving board and repeated the experience - to the exact same results.

Now what you'd think I would learn from the whole thing experience is that plugging my nose wouldn't save me from harm, that in fact it made it worse - which could be documented from my many ear infections during swimming season.  But no, for years after I still plugged my nose.  It wasn't until I was in my late 20's that I finally started to teach myself to swim without plugging my nose underwater.  And now, I would never think about plugging my nose. When I go to the cottage and swim with my Boy I imagine that we're dolphins and I leap in and out of the waves, frolicking and playing - yes I still have that fertile imagination - and I have gained back my love of the water, I've taken away that need for control and I just surrender myself to the bliss.  And I have to say that Moses has helped me to reclaim that joy, watching him "swimming" or his version of it anyway, he just does it with such abandon, such joy.  Have I mentioned how much I love that dog?

What does this all have to do with dating you ask?  Nothing, I just thought the diving board was a damned interesting story!  Kidding. :)  What it has to do with dating is that I've been approaching it all wrong.  I've been trying to be such a control freak about it, pre-planning every move, putting measures in place that would protect me from being hurt and not enjoying the experience. it was, until I had a few realizations and I spent some time thinking about what my motives were in dating in the first place.  Why was I doing this?  What did I hope to gain?

I had the hysterectomy May 7th and was told that it would take 6 to 8 weeks to recover, well after the infection and news that the cancer had spread (thankfully I didn't require further treatment and the hysterectomy resolved the issue) I ended up "recovering" for closer to 3 months.  Those first few weeks after the hysterectomy I was numb.  I didn't want to eat, all I wanted to do was walk.  And walk.  And walk and sleep.  Three hour, arduous walks during which time I didn't think about anything, I just strapped on my iPod and I roamed.  I was staying with my parents for that first little bit as planned but still maintained my rental space in Ajax.  I returned home after six weeks, still weak, still feeling like shit and bleeding like crazy and riddled with infection - waiting for the appointment with the oncologist to let me know my fate.  Was it going to be chemo?  Had the cancer spread?  I don't know whether I've ever known "normal" in my life, but during that time I felt as far from normal as I ever had.  When I got the news that everything was okay and I didn't need further treatment I just wanted to return to "normal" even though at this point my landlord had gone bat shit crazy and I had moved back to my parents.  Everything felt so out of control but at the same time I felt like I had been given such a gift, a second (or more realistically eighth) chance at life.

So I started online dating.  And I found myself doing the same stupid, self-destructive shit I did before.  The pictures I posted were of me showing an impressive amount of cleavage, I stated I wanted a relationship, but in my heart I still thought I didn't have what it took to be in one.  I went on a few disastrous dates and was left feeling horrible.  Hurt.  Sad.  I did a lot of self-reflection after that and gave myself a much needed ass-kicking. I did not go through hell to have this life of misery - especially since most of it was self-inflicted. And I decided, this I'm not good enough shit?  It's done.  No more.  This thinking I was only good for sex?  Hell.  No!  And doubting whether I had what it took to be in a relationship???  Yeah well I beat cancer, I can do anything.  Most importantly though, I reminded myself of how fucking fabulous I am.  I am beautiful, funny, compassionate, kind and I deserve the same level of awesome in a partner.  And at the end of the day, it's all a little too ridiculous to even take seriously and I needed to relax, let go of my control and just have fun.  And oh, it has been such fun. :)

I've learned a lot about dating from my "Bachelors" (I refuse to learn their names until they prove themselves worthy of the effort).   Here are just a few random facts/observances;

• When dating men, you have to be good at math, always subtract 2 from every measurement they give you.
• Men will make outrageous claims to get into your pants.  I once had a guy tell me that he could help me lose weight through having oral sex performed on me -  damn and here I've been busting my ass with diet and exercise - LIKE A SUCKER!
• Bachelor #1 named his penis Henry.  To all men everywhere - that's just creepy and contrary to what Bachelor #1 believed, not cute at all.
• When on a first date it is NOT okay to take multiple pictures of your date - and if you do you shouldn't act all pissy-pants when they ask if you are part of a white slave trade ring. 
• Acceptable contact/PDA's on a first date are: kissing my hand, gently placing your hand on my back when going through a door, hugging at the end of the date.  Unacceptable contact/PDA's include: dry humping me at the monkey cage at the Peterborough Zoo.
• Acceptable PDA's AFTER we've been dating for awhile: full on tonsil-hockey style kissing, holding my hand, grabbing my ass.  Unacceptable PDA's AFTER we've been dating for awhile include: dry humping me at the monkey cage at the Peterborough Zoo.

Kissing Techniques

Now this needs to be its own paragraph because kissing is important.  When it comes to seduction and sexual thrills a man who can kiss well is imperative.  What I've discovered is that there are a lot of men out there that are horrible at it.  I've placed them in the following categories:
THE DIVER - this guy tries to explore the depths of your tonsils by ramming their tongue deep, deep down your throat as their opening act.
THE BLOW UP DOLL - utilizing the same skills needed to blow up an air mattress (or similar item) for kissing they form a tight seal over your lips and ram their face as hard as they can into yours.
THE CHICKEN - A quick peck on your lips, almost impersonal, which doesn't sound that bad but is horrifying for someone who is scared of chickens.
THE PUPPY DOG - my whole face is wet after this experience: nostril or eye socket wetness is not uncommon and is oftentimes followed by having my leg humped.

What I have been looking for is a Unicorn.  A rare man that I didn't let myself believe existed.  One that was intelligent, funny, compassionate, kind......not perfect, but actively working on making himself better every day.  One who recognized how awesome I am, who wanted to be with me, loved spending time with me but also had interests, hobbies, passions outside of me too so that when we came together it was magic.
Someone who would stand by me as I fought my demons - and I could do the same for him.  What I realize is that I already talked myself out of the unicorn before I even started the search.  I told myself it didn't exist and if it did I certainly didn't deserve it. What bullshit.  What a coward's way out this line of thinking because all it really boiled down to is that I wanted to save my heart from being hurt.  But hearts are made to be broken, to feel joy, love and yes, hurt and this protection I try to put around my heart it is all a lie, I love people - I'm always going to love people and for me to live without them would mean my death. So hurt is inevitable.  So enough fighting myself.  Enough protection.  I'm all in.  I'm going to love myself - and make room for my unicorn too.