“This man could be ‘the one,’” I half-jokingly told a girlfriend. He meets many of the qualifications on my ideal partner profile. He is handsome, successful, and adventuresome. We share similar values and backgrounds. He is close to my age.
I know what I’m doing; I am totally immersed in an imagined future with this man. So what, I reason, the fantasy is fun. Here’s how it goes:
We entertain his friends in New York. His crowd includes famous actors, highly successful entrepreneurs, and Wall Street types, as well as several socialites. In Asheville, we entertain mine. When not in Manhattan or Asheville, we travel extensively. We are active in community; both of us feel it is important to give something back. At night, I curl up in his arms and feel safe. With him, I feel complete. With him, I feel loved.
I know better. No one can complete me. Wish as I might, no man can make me feel loved. These things I must do for myself, and until I do I won’t be ready to be in a real relationship. Real relationships start with a strong relationship with self.
A while back, my therapist, Chip, suggested that longing for “the one” is linked to the longing to be loved. His words helped me find a compassion for myself I’d never experienced before.
At fifty-six, I’m still a little boy wanting to be loved by his mother and approved of and affirmed by his dad. Both my mother and father are gone now, but even if they were still here, they couldn’t do it for me. I know it’s an inside job.
Relationships mirror many of our issues and the work we have yet to do. Still, I’m looking forward to my date tonight.