Shades of Gray

24 March, 2009

They all start the same way; hesitantly, almost sheepishly:

“I know you didn’t like the movie, but…”

Invariably, I know immediately where this is headed.  My girlfriends are speaking of the Supreme-o Sack of Shit Sorry Excuse For A Motion Picture Waste of Money and Celluloid “He’s Just Not That Into You.” (Which is true only wherein “he” is actually “me” and “you” is actually “the movie.”  And for the record, I chose to go only to a free screening, for the purpose of better knowing thine enemy.)

“But,” my friends continue, their voices undulating with caring trepidation.  “I do think it is true that if a guy really wants to be with you, he’ll make sure that you know it; he’ll find a way to be with you; he’ll pursue you until he’s with you…”

For every girlfriend that has quoted me this admittedly well-intentioned piece of advice (the count is now nearing 5), that sentence trails off with slight variations.  No matter how you slice it, though, what they’re telling me is clear: Why bother fretting about if he’ll call, when he’ll call, when we might see each other next, what will happen when we do – when the fact that these questions exist in the first place indicate that he {gasp!} may… just …not… be… in …to …me.

First of all, I think that’s all bullshit.  But that’s another rant for another blog.

Second of all, I do happen to agree that if a guy has fallen head-over-heels for a gal, of course he’s going to go out of his way to make sure she is keenly aware of that; in that case, there will be no second guessing on what the next move may be.

But I pose that that makes the issue awfully black-and-white: either he loves you or he couldn’t care less about you.  What about the middle, all the shades of gray that exist betwixt those two?  I’m at a point in my life where I’m certainly not, in any way, opposed to the John-Cusack-In-Say-Anything type of out-and-out adoration (sing it with me: In Your Eyes…), but I’ve also found a way to be happy with relationships that (often times thankfully) fall short of that lurve.  With these less-intense relation-flings, I don’t expect a guy to shower me with the fairy tale, or go to any great lengths to secure my attention and affection.  With some of the men I’ve seen lately, there is absolutely no expectation to fall in love.  And that is fine by me.

I am a Libra, and a middle-child to boot.  I see both extremes at all times, and I can embrace them if I so choose.  But I tend to exist most often in the rather hazy and tormented middle ground, straddling the two sides of every issue.  If I’m having fun with someone, and we care enough to see each other again but are cautious about where any more-involved future may lie, then why can’t the relationship remain in the ill-defined gray area?  If whatever we’re engaging in is more than random but less than serious, isn’t all that matters whether or not we’re enjoying ourselves (and, of course, the consensus that we both agree on that)?

Naturally, this then opens the door – or leaves it open – for the above line of ineffective interrogation (although less frantically than the lame-ass characters in the Load-of-Crap  aforementioned movie): When will he call?  When will I see him again?  Why haven’t I heard from him?

It’s a process and a half, and I curse it more often than I accept it, but I am trying to teach myself to enjoy the ride without forcing questions that have no answer.  Would it be nice if someone took the guesswork out of it for me?  Of course.  Do I sometimes impatiently wait for the day when the man that I wan to be knocking down my door is actually knocking down my door?  You betcha.  Will all those nagging questions ever truly disappear?  Without a doubt, no.  Am I willing to give up on all the fun I’m having bouncing around the wide spectrum of ambiguous grays, from the darkest charcoal to the faintest silver?  Not a chance.

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