In Defense of Emotional Adolescence

I think I've developed some trust issues to go along with my intimacy issues.

While I think this is decently revelatory, considering my epic and on-going battle against the cynicism of the wider world, apparently it's not. The exact quote from a friend of mine who I made this revelation to yesterday:

"Of course you have? I mean, shit. You'd be a little dense not to have put up some walls."

I find this heartbreaking. Not for her; cynicism works for her. It doesn't work so well for me. Cynicism makes me bitter, nasty, small-minded and downright mean. I don't like being any of these things. I want to love the world, the whole world, every shining, beautiful, dark and dirty part of it. I want to be a good person. I want to make life better.

Life is hard for a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. You laugh, but I'm serious. It's hard. It's hard to care so much, to want to share so much, and end up with egg all over your face. Or, something that has a somewhat egg-white-esque consistency.

What? Was that dirty? Get out of the gutter.

It's difficult for me to acknowledge that I don't really trust anyone's motives and intentions anymore. I'm endlessly concerned with why someone is doing something: do they like me, does he just want in my pants, is she just trying to figure out if I'm a threat to her? I throw that last one in there for the sake of balance, but really, this is about dating. This is about men.

I don't trust you, penises. You're wily little buggers. Slippery snakes, if you'll pardon the alliterative allusion.

And despite the generalized life-angst I feel when I realize that I don't trust people anymore, there's a really very specific set of issues that come with not trusting those people that you're into dating, whatever that subset may be. Men. Women. Dwarves. Whatever.

Insecurity. Oh my god, is insecurity a killer. Insecurity will kill attraction faster than bad poetry. No joke. You might think that nothing kills attraction faster than a few bad sonnets, but you would be WRONG. Insecurity unleashes "the crazy" on the relationship. Insecurity makes you question motives and actions, not just the other person's, but your own AND the other person's interpretation of your own. This leaves you doing things like calling and/or texting all the goddamn time because you just have to explain yourself. And then explain your explanation. And then apologize for being so persistent. And then explain your continued persistence.

Ad nauseum, ad infinitum.

Attraction is based on mystery, you see. It's based on that thrill of the unknown. This is why people together for years have such a hard time maintaining their sex lives. Without any mystery, the attraction disappears. And without attraction, well, fucking just isn't any fun.

Luckily for me, I'm a chameleon. And a crazy person. So there will always be mystery.

I jest.

Ok, I sort of jest.

Attraction is based on mystery, and constant contact makes mystery impossible. Not only that, constant contact is annoying. It reeks of attention-whoring, it screams for validation. And when you're an emotional adolescent (like me!) two of the things you would desperately like to get from a partner are attention and validation. Preferably a steady stream, with a strong current of flirtatiousness.

Recap: I have trust issues. I don't like this in a generalized way, but I particularly don't like it when it comes to dating because mistrust in love leads to insecurity which leads to crazy.

In discussing this with another friend of mine, the necessity of wearing flame-retardant gloves after one's been burned a few times came up. (By the way, great tag line for a public ad campaign about using condoms.)

And this is where we really, really butt up against my emotional adolescence. I don't want to wear flame-retardant gloves. Being closed off to the world, barriering myself against it, is not something I ever want to do. It hurts to be vulnerable, but I really, REALLY don't like the alternatives. And this is the crux of why having developed trust issues is so bothersome to me, personally. It shows me that despite my best efforts, despite my active desire to remain open to the world and capable of showering love on everyone I meet, I'm becoming a cynic. I'm strapping on the armor and approaching every day as a battle to be lost or won. I'm protecting myself without meaning to.

And everyone's right, and I've got every reason to do so, to which my response is a (very mature) fuck that noise. This isn't what I want to be. Nah-nah-na-boo-boo, la-la-la, I can't hear you. And it's about as effective as slamming the door on your parents when you're 13.

Self-preservation is a bitch.