SEARCHING MY SHADOW

I have always been attracted to women that were wildly different from me. There was the hippie chick, the goth girl, the wealthy socialite, the immigrant, the promiscuous trailer-park babe...actually, I've dated two of those. I guess I kind of bought into the phrase "opposites attract."

What I THINK I've come to realize is that by choosing drastically different mates I was, in fact, searching for myself. And it turns out I'm a mix of each of them. Either I had all these elements within me grasping at the matching puzzle piece...or, through my interaction with each of them, I gathered the elements to create the puzzle. I think it's a little of both.

Now, for the first time in my life, I'm looking for someone...like me. Because now I have a better understanding of what that means. Hopefully I don't end up being insanely unique!

WARNING: EXCESSIVE TEASE - THIS POST MAY INDUCE BLUE BALLS

Yesterday I decided that in today's post I would share an experience that happened to me in second grade. Something that affected me greatly and that probably helped shape a large part of who I am. The fact that I still think about it as often as I do should be an indicator of how powerful this was for me. I have never told ANYONE about this.

Throughout the night I wondered how I would go about writing this event down in a way that would do it justice. And it occurred to me that posting this to my blog could never do it justice. A blog is an open page on the web for anyone to happen across. If I post my most personal experiences to a blog for anyone to read, doesn't that minimize it's impact - at least in the eyes of the reader?

My closest friends are the ones who have taken an interest in getting to know me. They were genuinely interested and put in the time - which is no easy task. I've typically chosen girlfriends the same way (at least it was a major part of the criteria). I actually enjoy sharing some of these experiences and thoughts with people but I've always used it as a type of reward.

Now I know the word "reward" seems extremely arrogant. I certainly don't mean it that way. It's the only word I can think of to use in this case. I suppose, in a way, the word "reward" in this instance means love. Yes, it's a pathetic representation of love but it really is one of the few ways I feel comfortable showing it.

I keep a folder which is bursting at the seams. It is full of memories from my past - pictures, letters, mementos. I was dating this girl a few years ago and we were struggling with accepting our relationship as a commitment. She was constantly harping on me that I never talked about my family with her and that the only information I shared was "safe" information. She was right. So one evening I introduced my folder to her and invited her into my world. She was extremely appreciative. It helped our relationship for a while but ultimately things didn't work out. The folder may have been a bit of an overload for her!

There have always been two things that I have considered "rewards" for girlfriends (and some friends) - 1. Sharing my most personal experiences and 2. Meeting my family. Few have met my family because it is the closest thing to me. It scares the hell out of me to think that my grandfather, the man I look up to most, may not be around for much longer and if I ever finally meet the person I'm going to end up with forever, she won't have had the chance to meet him. But there are some things I can't control. And boy have I learned that love is certainly at the top of that list!

I suppose the point of this post is that I have decided NOT to share my second grade experience. It shouldn't be posted to a website for anyone to see. It should be reserved for a moment where I can share it with one person who I trust. I'll probably owe it to them.