The Communication Paradox
Good evening, all. I'm here blogging because, honestly, I need to air these thoughts somewhere.
Yesterday was 7 weeks since my first date with P. Good Lord, where has the time gone? And in the past 7 weeks, I thought I'd just about figured out communicating with him, at least via text.
Ha.
I've mentioned before how P doesn't really do small talk, chit chat, whatever you wish to call it, via text. Being a typical verbose woman, I will send him a text when a particular random thought crosses my mind or something. I have come to the point where I know I will not get a reply, and I'm okay with that.
Apparently, at some point in the past 7 weeks -- more like the past 2 -- one or both of us has entered into a different dimension. Bizarro world.
Lately, if I text a random comment, one that I would never expect a reply to... I tend to get a reply. Say what?! However, if I send a question, something that asks for a response... silence. (I might get a reply several hours later. And I do mean several.) I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. I think part of it is timing. Often I send those kinds of texts in the evening, and typically he stays pretty late at work -- 7:30 or later is not uncommon for him, unless he has his son -- and when he gets home he's so tired he often crashes pretty much right away. Or if he has his son, he's up with him, supervising homework and doing father/son stuff, crashing shortly after the kid does. Either way, most mornings he's up at least as early as I am, if not earlier; some of our best conversations have happened, ironically, at 6:00 a.m. (I say ironically, because if you know me, you know that is NOT my best time.)
A text that asks a question is sometimes loaded. I don't mean, loaded as in "treacherous minefield," such as "did those jeans I was wearing make me look fat?" I mean, loaded as in requiring some thought, more than "do we need milk?" Last weekend we agreed that we need to spend more time together, and that we'd try to find some time this weekend. Earlier this evening I texted him asking about that. So far, no reply. Perhaps these are my rose-colored glasses, but I have a feeling he may have seen the text, thought "this will require some thinking, I'm in the middle of something, I'll get back to her later," and went back to work. Cue typical evening get-home-fall-asleep sequence, resulting in no reply.
But the non-question texts... that's where I sometimes scratch my head and yet smile stupidly. This morning I texted him as I was on my way to the doctor's office. I was having some routine blood work drawn, but it had to be a "fasting draw," which meant I was up and functioning (ha!) without coffee. I sent him some text related to the concept of having to function without coffee, not expecting a reply. A few minutes after I sent it, while I was chatting with the phlebotomist who was getting ready to bury a needle in my arm, his text tone goes off.
Go figure.
Men. Sometimes, you just wanna hug them. Tightly. Around the neck. With both hands.
Back to reality, though... I dare say because we were so comfortable with each other so quickly, I wouldn't be surprised if we've shifted into the phase where the pursuit, so to say, is done, and we're more in the maintenance period. And, we've arrived there faster than perhaps other couples would. Does that make sense? No longer do we necessarily feel like we have to always respond immediately because we're still trying to make that connection, secure their feelings, or at least get the other one in bed. Now we have a certain level of trust that we have the other person, so we don't have to drop everything and reply. Or at least, I'm thinking that's how he is, because certainly when I hear his tone I tend to drop most everything and reply. Unless I have a needle stuck in my arm, that is.
Maybe I'm making excuses for him. Maybe I'm seeing the glass as half-full when in reality I should be seeing it for its spots. Maybe I'm giving him way too much of the benefit of the doubt. However, love and relationships require risks. They demand, in order to be successful, that we sacrifice part of ourselves so we can allow another one in. Historically, I have been very bad at that. I don't like being vulnerable, not being the one in control. But I need to start taking those risks, and I've found a man who I am willing to do that with. If my heart gets broken, so be it. It may be a lesson painfully learned, but like a child at some point I have to actually touch the hot stove to know it is hot.
Still, I wish he'd reply to the stupid text. Men.
Yesterday was 7 weeks since my first date with P. Good Lord, where has the time gone? And in the past 7 weeks, I thought I'd just about figured out communicating with him, at least via text.
Ha.
I've mentioned before how P doesn't really do small talk, chit chat, whatever you wish to call it, via text. Being a typical verbose woman, I will send him a text when a particular random thought crosses my mind or something. I have come to the point where I know I will not get a reply, and I'm okay with that.
Apparently, at some point in the past 7 weeks -- more like the past 2 -- one or both of us has entered into a different dimension. Bizarro world.
Lately, if I text a random comment, one that I would never expect a reply to... I tend to get a reply. Say what?! However, if I send a question, something that asks for a response... silence. (I might get a reply several hours later. And I do mean several.) I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. I think part of it is timing. Often I send those kinds of texts in the evening, and typically he stays pretty late at work -- 7:30 or later is not uncommon for him, unless he has his son -- and when he gets home he's so tired he often crashes pretty much right away. Or if he has his son, he's up with him, supervising homework and doing father/son stuff, crashing shortly after the kid does. Either way, most mornings he's up at least as early as I am, if not earlier; some of our best conversations have happened, ironically, at 6:00 a.m. (I say ironically, because if you know me, you know that is NOT my best time.)
A text that asks a question is sometimes loaded. I don't mean, loaded as in "treacherous minefield," such as "did those jeans I was wearing make me look fat?" I mean, loaded as in requiring some thought, more than "do we need milk?" Last weekend we agreed that we need to spend more time together, and that we'd try to find some time this weekend. Earlier this evening I texted him asking about that. So far, no reply. Perhaps these are my rose-colored glasses, but I have a feeling he may have seen the text, thought "this will require some thinking, I'm in the middle of something, I'll get back to her later," and went back to work. Cue typical evening get-home-fall-asleep sequence, resulting in no reply.
But the non-question texts... that's where I sometimes scratch my head and yet smile stupidly. This morning I texted him as I was on my way to the doctor's office. I was having some routine blood work drawn, but it had to be a "fasting draw," which meant I was up and functioning (ha!) without coffee. I sent him some text related to the concept of having to function without coffee, not expecting a reply. A few minutes after I sent it, while I was chatting with the phlebotomist who was getting ready to bury a needle in my arm, his text tone goes off.
Go figure.
Men. Sometimes, you just wanna hug them. Tightly. Around the neck. With both hands.
Back to reality, though... I dare say because we were so comfortable with each other so quickly, I wouldn't be surprised if we've shifted into the phase where the pursuit, so to say, is done, and we're more in the maintenance period. And, we've arrived there faster than perhaps other couples would. Does that make sense? No longer do we necessarily feel like we have to always respond immediately because we're still trying to make that connection, secure their feelings, or at least get the other one in bed. Now we have a certain level of trust that we have the other person, so we don't have to drop everything and reply. Or at least, I'm thinking that's how he is, because certainly when I hear his tone I tend to drop most everything and reply. Unless I have a needle stuck in my arm, that is.
Maybe I'm making excuses for him. Maybe I'm seeing the glass as half-full when in reality I should be seeing it for its spots. Maybe I'm giving him way too much of the benefit of the doubt. However, love and relationships require risks. They demand, in order to be successful, that we sacrifice part of ourselves so we can allow another one in. Historically, I have been very bad at that. I don't like being vulnerable, not being the one in control. But I need to start taking those risks, and I've found a man who I am willing to do that with. If my heart gets broken, so be it. It may be a lesson painfully learned, but like a child at some point I have to actually touch the hot stove to know it is hot.
Still, I wish he'd reply to the stupid text. Men.
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