Stupid Transitional Relationships

If you want to irritate me, mention transitional relationships. I’ve had multiple discussions with several people and there are varied opinions. So the hatred toward the concept is not mine alone. But you’ll notice I said I don’t like the idea, not that I don’t believe in it.

The premise, basically, is as follows: Let’s say there’s a woman – we’ll call her Emily. Now we like Emily, though she is hypothetical. She’s smart, funny, very sweet and completely in love with her husband. As time passes, the relationship changes. Perhaps she grows a little bored. Maybe he’s not very attentive. They might fight more than either of them expected. For many reasons, many of which have nothing to do with him, she’s unhappy. So she ends the relationship – whether by cheating and having him discover her betrayal, suggesting a separation that eases into divorce, becoming impossible to live with so that he leaves her – and her husband (um, let’s say his name is Joe) is devastated. He didn’t expect his marriage to fail and it throws his entire worldview into chaos.

I’m interested in the more innocent of the two parties, though it’s a gross oversimplification of the situation, I’m sure. So we’ll focus on poor Joe because he’s hurt and alone and struggling to escape his depression over this miserable turn of events. Maybe Joe spends some time on the bathroom floor. Goes to therapy to try to understand where he went wrong. Wants badly to avoid future pain of this sort. Is trying to move on.

Transitional relationships enter the picture here. The theory I’ve heard is that it’s necessary to find a person who is by definition temporary. Someone who will nurse Joe back to relationship-y health – make him feel sexy, confident, strong and very loved. Joe would treat this person badly – though likely not right away – as he works through his anger and confusion over his own hurt feelings. He’ll know on some level that this new person doesn’t deserve anything negative – she only wants to love and help him – but he’ll be unable to help himself. He’ll use her, hurt her, then have to move on with deep regret because he’s not a bad guy. He’s just having a bad time.

Proponents of this theory indicate it is vital once hurt feelings reach a certain threshold. When marriages dissolve, for example. If a breakup is particularly devastating for one of the participants. The pain has to go somewhere, so it will go to the transitional relationship. Or so it was explained to me.

“... I understand that when you speak of transitional relationships, you see them as something beautiful and real and lovely. I don't. I can't." I wrote to my friend. "I think it's selfish and awful and repugnant. I also understand that my thinking is painful to you and that bothers me. But this is going to be one of these points where I can't understand you and you can't understand me. Because I do, quite honestly and meaning absolutely no offense, see it as using someone to heal yourself. And that's something that I can't accept.”

I made her cry, I think. She was sad that I saw love as such a limiting experience, and didn’t appreciate that helping someone heal was a valid use of time and resources. And there were examples – oh, the anecdotal evidence that backed up this theory from any number of different people.

There was the couple who got married after Janet left Steve. Steve quickly met and married Mandy and they were quite happy for eight years, though he continued to confess his feelings for Janet to close friends. Janet got married at some point, and Steve and Mandy attended the ceremony. Steve abruptly divorced Mandy mere months later – he realized she wasn’t right for him if he retained such feeling for Janet. Mandy was miserably depressed. Steve quickly found someone else, married and is blissfully happy.

Rachel had an intense crush on Matt. He was seriously dating another girl, but encouraged Rachel’s attention to the point where they were quite serious as well. Rachel – aware of his girlfriend - was certain he’d leave said girlfriend in due time. He didn’t. Rachel – after clinging to email contact for months after graduation – met up with an old friend. He moved in within weeks, they married very quietly about a year later. She has contemplated not only divorce, but affairs. She’s just not happy with him.

Carrie and Aiden. Ross and Emily. Felicity and Noel. TV doesn’t lie, people.

“Eventually,” my friend advised, “transitional relationships fall apart. It’s just how they work. And if you're not careful, you will get hurt.”

I continue to reject the idea that this transition is necessary though. I prefer to think of them as a miserable option in the healing process. One that must be recognized and avoided, at least for me. I have no desire to pass the hurt around – send someone reeling from the knowledge that I didn’t care about him very much after all. I was just using him to work my way past pain that someone else had caused.

Why bring it up, especially when I abhor the very topic?

There’s a guy.

The eHarmony plan was put into play before things went terribly wrong here recently. I was in contact with a few different men, but it was mostly stilted and awkward – unimpressive. This could have been why I continued to cling to Peter. He was so good at the email – so easy and confident and right. I felt smart, funny and sexy when responding to him (well, sometimes. Others I felt needy and pathetic and miserable.) and I missed that.

Then there was Neil. Neil is quite cute, actually. My age, professional degree. Recently moved to the area. His profile was adorable – I smiled involuntarily several times after he initiated communication with me. We moved quickly through guided communication, then started to send email. But he scared me – I liked him much more than anyone else and knew – even a month ago – that I wasn’t in a place to start something. I was too confused and hurt and sad. This was just supposed to be a mild distraction.

So I sent an email in our first open communication. Said that he was very cute and I appreciated his interest, but his little short answer about flirting while dancing? Being dressed up and out at a club and moving together and knowing that things clicked? Ah, no. I don’t do that. I don’t even dance at weddings. So the mental picture of me, dressed up, in a dark, loud club, moving with some guy? Even a handsome one? I giggle. It’s just not me. I’m more the stay at home type, I explained. I like small groups, quiet rooms, coffee and conversation. Cooking dinner and cleaning the kitchen together. Reading books while snuggled under a blanket. So I wished him luck, predicted he’d find someone very quickly and prayed I’d start to move on eventually. Because the guy I wanted to do all those things with was not interested in playing his part.

But Neil wrote back – started with a “Dearest Katie” and ended with a “I really look forward to talking with you soon. Please don’t disappoint me.” And threw a bunch of text in the middle. Charming words about how he tended to make people feel comfortable – he thought he could get me to dance at some point, even if it was in the kitchen as we cleaned up after dinner. Talked about how he loved coffee, books, conversation, cuddling under blankets. People are multi-faceted and he hoped I wouldn’t judge him too harshly for liking to dance.

I allowed myself the flutter – I missed the tingle in my stomach so very much. So I wrote back, flirted shamelessly, and waited to hear back. I didn’t – not for over a week, I think. Then, well, stuff happened. Bad stuff. And I didn’t really think about Neil anymore.

My eHarmony membership runs out tomorrow. So today I checked one of my email accounts with the absolute expectation that someone would want my attention from the dating site. Because that’s how things like this work – I’m ready to get my hair cut, so it looks adorable every single day from the second I make the appointment. I want to quit online dating? I hear from the only guy who captured much of my attention.

“Neil…” I sighed as I clicked over to see what he said. “What are you doing to me?”

“Sorry for my delayed response.” He wrote. “[Insert grown-up excuse.]” And I was hooked. There’s something about confident men who are vaguely apologetic yet fully expect that they’re special enough that you’ll forgive them any lapse in polite behavior. He was busy with professional stuff. That’s fine – I was quite occupied with being crazy. I read his short note - he apologized for the lack of charm in the email, and promised to make it up to me. I smiled, shook my head and went for a walk. And found myself – not unusually – composing email in my head as I tugged Chienne around the neighborhood.

I came back, responded to some of his other topics, then wrote as honestly as I could manage without looking overly weird.

Do you mind if I ask you something? Or maybe I just want to talk through something. Does dating ever make you tired? It's just... not miserable - I find it entertaining and funny for the most part, and it's kind of a rush to go through the nervous/exciting parts. And being serious with someone - from what I remember - is really nice. But there's so much stilted awkwardness with some men. And I try to guess at motives and what men are looking for - I even wonder what I'm trying to gain here sometimes. I read emails that are misspelled and lack capital letters (not sexy). Or go on dates where I listen to monologues or try to figure out what the hell D&D means or look at someone who's bright and charming but realize he's not all that attracted to me. In all honesty, my average is about 50/40/10 (I don't like him/he doesn't like me/there's mutual like or dislike). Which isn't the greatest average, right? So going out with friends or visiting my cousin and her family for dinner or having a glass of wine and writing Matlab code for work starts to sound more appealing than answering short answer questions and reading personality profiles.

The point of the whining is that my month of eHarmony is up - tomorrow, I think. And - sporadic email from cute, charming men notwithstanding, of course - the thought of another month makes me sigh. Not a good sign, right? As tempting as it is to find out how you'd make it up to me (though the charm still comes through, my dear. You're good at what you do.), I think I'm sticking with my plan to not renew at the moment. Which means I think you'll have to contain your extreme disappointment at not getting to know me better. Sad day for you, I'm sure. :)

I'm not sure if I'm glad you replied to my reply or not, Neil. It was good to hear from you, but I had to go through my 'look for someone else and good luck with that' speech again. I really am tired though - with manuscript revisions needing to be submitted and upcoming travel for work and my parents are arriving late this week to stay for 7 days or so (they watch my dog when I'm out of town) - I find myself looking away from my pile of paperwork and toward my couch, longing for a quick nap. So, again, congratulations. I'm happy for you. And I very much hope you don't get tired yourself before finding someone wonderful.

Katie

[The links were added for you guys. I did not direct the poor guy to my blog.]

And a couple hours later, I got his reply. He empathized with my exhaustion and frustration. But he was intrigued with me, very much wished he could get to know me better. So perhaps if I made it through my mountain of paperwork and back to my keyboard, I’d consider sending him email at his personal account. If not, he’d understand. He’d very much enjoyed reading my email and “getting a glimpse of this mystery woman I might never meet.”

Is he – in a typical, male move with which I’m very familiar – just chasing because I keep backing away? Is it wrong to flutter over him a little? Send email from my personal account and offer up my name?

It just feels so good – so validating – to have someone interested in me. Even in a very casual way. He seems good – charming and sweet. And I would very much like for someone like that to genuinely like me. Even if we never make it out of email. Just to soothe my poor heart. Give my mind another man to think about when I need a break from work. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I could think about Neil – a possibility – rather than squeezing my eyes closed because thinking about love – or the lack thereof – aches.

After all, I would never have a transitional relationship for my own benefit, right? Because that would just be wrong. Very, very tempting. But wrong.

Right?