Eliminate the Noise

She was right. Seated amongst a bevy of tourists breaking from their department store shopping spree I heard my best friend, in not so many words, tell me it was time to start from scratch. And it’s not that I hadn’t tried to rid myself of past suitors in the last few years, it’s just that they, regardless of my words, always found their way back.

I was the sweet, Michelle Obama-esque woman they loved to not love while pretending they were ready. Prolonging our eventual end with fluffy remembrances of fun times and promises to make good on something we had started long ago. What was I to do if failed attempts at keeping them away meant they were ever-present without any real presence?

For me it’s always been a bit of tightrope — playing the role of the bigger person while in the back of my head wishing I could say exactly what’s on my mind. I didn’t get the confrontational sassy gene. That went to my sister. And the you-make-me-so-angry-I-could-fight-you gene went to her too. I, the second child, was left with the unique ability to convey my surface-level thoughts with a halfway-there smile and a tone so kind I can make people think I’m actually being polite. It’s served me well for years, but while an honest admission leaves me in euphoria, its subtle delivery often falls on deaf ears.

***

“Eliminate the noise,” she said, as I sucked down my prosecco-infused cocktail while giving side-eye realness. I knew, as did she, that it was a lot easier said than done. And not because I was holding on to past flames for any particular reason, but simply because I was so over them (ok… all but one of them), it didn’t feel like noise at all.

“We’re fine,” I replied. Assuring her that even in the midst of a 2017 free of dating I could still make sense of talking to a man who continuously told me of his plans to re-connect, settle our “unfinished business” and give me his last name.

The both of us could pretend his move to Detroit was the reason things ended, or that his job in NYC was too demanding. We could possibly even pretend that I was to blame. That my fascination with another man left me incapable of giving it my all. But each one of those scenarios would be deceitful. The truth being that we didn’t work out because the effort wasn’t there. Because at the end of the day dating him felt a lot like being single, and I realized a long time ago I didn’t have to settle.

Our last conversation came days after my cousin’s wedding and ended with “just watch.” A phrase I had heard too many times before from men who insisted their past behaviors were just that – a thing of the past. Insisting that they had miraculously changed into a gentleman who was now well-suited to pursue my heart, and, that if given just ONE more chance, I would see the “new them.” But nothing ever changed. The busy ones remained busy. The liars continued their tired lies. And the ones who never put in any effort continued to listlessly splurt out words that materialized into…well… nothing.

And maybe this was my plight. To be adored from afar, recklessly, and idly, while surreptitiously preparing my heart for the one who would show up and kill the noise with a single date. The one who wouldn’t have to utter the words “just watch” simply because everything he said and everything he did from.the.beginning. aligned perfectly with the vision I always had of him. The one who, for years, I imagined would make his triumphant entry and sweep me away, because he realized what the others did not, that talk was cheap and he was ready to DO.

I’ve long felt him hiding in the shadows, thinking he’s finally shown up, but eventually having to cop to the fact that yet again I’ve met another noisemaker. A man who makes me believe before crushing my dreams, and who with all reckless abandon plays games that constantly leave me on the losing side.

I often wonder why.

***

As we made our way from Stella 34 over to Penn Station, a part of my prosecco-altered mind began to think that my acknowledgment of past transgressions was reason enough to do as my best friend suggested. To just start from scratch, eliminating all possibilities of rekindling a romance, and completely clear my head of the ones whose actions led me to this year, free of dating. Why was I continuing to take their calls? Why was I compelled to respond to their texts? Why did I agree to meet for dinners that always started off on the right foot but would ultimately go left? I didn’t owe them a thing.

One day I’ll figure it out. And one day my polite, surface-level thoughts delivered with a barely-there smile will fall on ears willing to listen. OR… maybe not. I won’t pretend to know how this web called life will work its way out. And that’s okay. After all, these things happen.