Thanksgiving - or not.

I sent email Monday morning. Waited impatiently for a response until this morning. I woke up early – before dawn, actually – and shuffled out to the kitchen to make coffee, wrinkled my nose at the dishes in the sink and walked to the living room to flop on the loveseat. He had written back. I read the message, nodded, sighed, then did those dishes. I find it oddly comforting. The sun came out, so I woke up the dog and we went for a walk though it was uncomfortably hot, even in the moments just after dawn.

My email from Monday? Well, it went a little something like this.

I have figured something out for myself. I do believe I'm getting better - feeling more hopeful about life in general. So I have a question, but I need to set it up first. Because, well, I'm me and nothing's worthwhile without a great deal of context, yes?

Part 1 -
Steve [a friend of mine] came over for dinner last week and it was lovely. We talked about work and how his girlfriend is moving here from [northern state] without a job because she wants to be close to him. I like Rachel, Steve's girlfriend, but I adore this particular act. It's gutsy and speaks to her strength, I think. That's she's willing to risk a bit professionally to see where she and Steve end up. No engagement, no living together, no pretense of this move being good for her in terms of career. It's honest and brave and I applaud her for it. It could be really stupid too, I guess, but that's part of what I like too.

Anyway, in having him here - cooking dinner and drinking mediocre wine (really not a fan of the reds - I get tipsy more quickly and they're just harder to drink for me), playing with Chienne and talking and laughing - I realized I'm not very happy being so isolated. I haven't somehow morphed into this creature who can't stand people. I like sharing my space, but I'm picky about who can be around. That's fine - I've always been like that. But after he left and I looked around at the kitchen I'd cleaned up while he sketched out ideas for this project we might try for work, I realized I want to date someone. You, actually.

But first, Part 2 -
Every year since starting grad school (so this will be the 6th year - goodness), I've spent Thanksgiving at home. At some point, I escape from the noise and find myself looking in a mirror and feeling incredibly alone though the house is filled with people who love me. It's fair to say I have a thing about Thanksgiving, and I've done it to myself by these moments I spend alone.

So I'm staring in the mirror, right? I start by making a face (because it's weird to look at yourself and talk. It's good that you know I realize that.), then view myself more kindly. "Next year." I promise, and think of the years before that I've promised the same thing, frown and speak more seriously. "Next year I'll bring someone home with me. Someone good. Really." And yet it Never Happens. You have no idea the dread which surrounds this Thanksgiving. I've been thinking of traveling - visiting M in Hawaii or Carrie in [other city], but I don't think that would help. It'd just be a different mirror to look in and sigh over my lack of progress.

Ick.

I was walking Chienne this morning and found myself thinking about my very lack of appreciation for a holiday designed to elicit the opposite feeling. [Insert some details that aren’t overly important.] But Thanksgiving happens to be my landmark of assessing progress (or lack thereof) in relationships.

So. How would you feel about making tentative plans for spending time together around Thanksgiving?

You don't have to agree - it's not a threat or requirement or anything like that. There are all sorts of excuses built around holiday plans, or you could just let me know it's not appealing. But I think I had to ask - wanted to make some gesture that indicated I might be getting a little closer to having someone I care about. It's just a little bit brave, and I've been painfully timid lately with everything. Plus, it sort of forces you into telling me how you're looking at me right now. Fair? Eh, probably not. I like the idea regardless. Plus, I think you're going to refuse, so then I get to be all brave without risking much of anything.

Katie

He said no.

(OK, he actually said he didn’t know – too many plans were up in the air and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. But isn’t it much more dramatic to write, “He said no.”? Yes, yes it is more dramatic.)

I, of course, responded that I understood and it was fine. I was sincere when I wrote it this morning and continue to feel that way.

Except…

Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone say yes?

I didn’t expect it – plans around the holidays are difficult and while we seem to like each other, we’re not dating. In fact, there are days when I’m resigned to the fact that I’ll be spending every Thanksgiving at home – surrounded by love, laughter, and food – and staring in the mirror and feeling terribly alone. Closing my eyes to gather a bit of strength and entering the fray again, cuddling babies and reading them stories, talking with Brother’s wife and my cousins’ husbands, watching Aunt get Uncle more coffee, and Dad tease Mom when she’s once again made too much food to fit on the table.

I look around, loving them ever so much, and wishing I could find someone to bring. This year isn’t going to find me any closer than I have been in the past, folks. And when I try to console myself with the fact that I tried – not just this year, but all the past years when I tell myself that next year might be the one when I meet him – it starts to sound hollow. Sad. False.

It's not guaranteed, I decided as I trudged up a hill this morning, cursing the heat that lingered though the sun hadn't had a chance to warm the air yet. Nobody's keeping track of the number of bad dates, the happiness I feel when other people pair up, my good qualities and desire to have someone in my life so they can reward me when I reach some threshold of deserving someone. Love isn't necessarily fair. Some people get endless chances they don't necessarily deserve. Others break my heart with tales of loss - profound pain that makes me feel small and selfish and stupid for moping over not having anyone. Still others - women I find bright, funny, charming, endearing and completely beautiful (even those I haven't seen because they're online) - haven't yet met the men who might deserve them.

Then there's me. When I present the part of me that’s really OK with this, I responded to his email with what I hope was graceful understanding. And when I pout just a bit, I post on my blog. Ask when someone is going to like me. Is there ever going to be a time when I can smile over at someone between dinner and dessert? Roll my eyes when Dad tells a long joke that’s never really funny? Watch Mom look relieved that I finally let myself love someone who was smart enough to love me in return?

I don’t know. But I was washing my hands after lunch today, standing in a bathroom at work all alone, glanced at myself in the mirror, and shrugged. “Not this year.” I said – not morose, not hopefully.

Just honest. And, yes, a bit dramatic.

I'll work on being thankful for what I do have tomorrow - there's quite a lot and it's good to focus on the positive. For now though? I'm moping over what I'm missing.