Mar 282012
 

“I’m worried about you,” my girlfriend began. Was an intervention getting ready to take place? What had I done? I’d only been telling her about last night’s date.

“When you started dating again, you said you wanted to date casually, that you didn’t want to get stuck on the search for ‘the one.’ It sounds to me like you’re searching. Which do you want?”

It was a fair question; so was my response: “Both.”

“Which one’s in the driver’s seat?” she probed. I laughed, “Both. Well, one drives while the other rides shotgun. Then they switch.

I guess it’s not an either-or proposition; it’s more both-and.” My friend Elizabeth likes to say, “Every date is a potential mate.” She’s joking, but a part of me sees the truth in what she’s saying. Another part of me wants to roll his eyes. I just want to date casually. I’m enjoying being single.

Do I know what I want? Not really. Am I sending out mixed signals? Probably. Am I worried about it? Not yet. I know given time, the smoke will clear and I’ll be able to see the horizon.

Dec 042011
 

I believe in magic. I believe in a divine order, benevolent spirits, miracles,—and yes—I believe in “the one.”

I know better. Despite what I read in romance novels and see in the gaggle of “chick-flicks” I attend, I know there’s no such thing as “the one,” but still I go on believing.

In an attempt to align what I know with what I believe, I’ve given voice to my crazy thinking; I’ve even had fun with it.

I point to guy after guy asking friends if he could be “the one.” I explain how “he” will complete me and save me from my life. My friends laugh and have even joined in on the game. “Come on and go with us, Randy,” they might say. “You might meet ‘the one.’”

By exaggerating the absurdity of my thinking, I hope to gain freedom from my beliefs. I hope to laugh myself loose.

If laughter doesn’t work, then logical thinking might. I’ve examined why I hold onto this false belief. What is it that I’m afraid I’ll lose if I let it go?

Expectation can be exciting—even exhilarating. It can make the mundane magnificent. Every corner I turn could be the corner where I stumble into “the one.” “He” could be only a heartbeat away. Sometimes anticipation can be more thrilling than the actual outcome we’re hoping for.

But when I really think about it, I know that the true reason I hold onto the idea of “the one” is this: If I let “him” go, I may lose the magic, and a life without magic is more than I can bear.