Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Ponderings of the Heart

What I have been doing this last year is sometimes said to be the American dream; to sell everything off, head to a new place and start a new life. This is something I've become an expert in. I have no qualms about starting out in a new place with new folks. I've also become an expert in short romances. I've no problem meeting someone new and sharing intimate moments, only to move on after a lovely, but brief time. I've been wondering lately if I am too good at this; temporary romance. As it stands, I am connoisseur of first dates, first kisses and stolen glances.

When it comes to relationships, I haven't been keen on them for a couple of years now. Despite that, I have dated plenty. Dating has become somewhat of a hobby of mine. It is easy for me to meet someone and in no time at all, I am sharing their confidence. Someone who was a stranger is now someone who is sharing their secrets with me, while we sit together in picturesque settings. During sunsets on a beach or warm nights next to a pond, we embrace or hold hands and it is as though we are the only ones who exist and nothing around us matters. For those moments we are teenagers; young, innocent and carefree. 

Of course, I am rarely invested in these men. It is the moment I am interested in. The magic of that moment and that sunset or walk in the rain or dimly lit corner of a restaurant. I thrive on hearing dreams they are fearful to share with others or secrets that have burdened them for years or simple thoughts they feel comfortable sharing because they are so at ease. I've kind of come to pride myself on being able to make any man feel vulnerable enough to share his heart with me. 

Granted, people in general are easy to peg. Give me a half an hour with someone and I can tell you whether they get long with their parents, what sports they played in high school, if they are faithful or unfaithful, what they do and what they really want to do and so on. I can usually do this without ever asking about any of those things, but rather just by listening to them chat in casual conversation.When it comes to men, when the prospect of a woman is involved, it's even easier. Like moths to the flame.

It's not out of malice that I have this hobby, not in the least. There are no pretenses about our encounters. Generally these men aren't looking for a long-term relationship or partner, which is why their vulnerability comes so easily; they know we will only share these moments and then I will be on my way. To a new city, new state, new adventure, new life. The woman full of wanderlust stirs a desire in men that is easy to harness and guide wherever one pleases. The idea of me, but not the actuality of us; it's safe, it's whimsical. Anything is possible in those moments. Together we could conquer new worlds. And just as quickly as it began, it ends. 

Then what? I log them away in my memory, noting their insecurities, their passions, their weaknesses, their strengths, their smiles, their humor. And that's that. No one is hurt, we both go our separate ways, with pleasant memories to hold onto and recall whenever we need or want. 

This hobby of mine has kept me safe, as it is a rare occasion that I want to get involved with any of these men. Men who seek the idea of me, rather than the actuality of me aren't appealing for more than a moment. And I like that. But recently, as I've been settling here on the farm, I am beginning to wonder, am I too good at the temporary? Has my hobby become my vocation? Could I exist in a happy, healthy, long term relationship if I tried? If after I share those first moments and someone asks me to stay and not go, would I? Could I? Could I open that door back up and walk through it? If I could, would boredom and cynicism boil up quickly and destroy the potential of anything of true substance?

This isn't a plaguing thought. It isn't leaving me sleepless at night, but is something I am beginning to ponder. 

For now, I ponder on.