Romantic relationships are not my forte.Â I wonder if it is the fear of having my heart hurt again that stifles my ability to get close to another individual, or if I have not yet found the right connect.
I chose to avoid wrestling a pig (see previous blog), and found it best to also steer clear of the Cowboy Casanova shoveling the manure – decisions that have served me well.Â But no matter how little involvement I had in an-out-of-hand, mud-slinging mess, I wanted to better understand my role in what was a whirlwind of a relationship, now ended.
The time we spent together may not qualify as a relationship — that would imply a significant emotional attachment or connection — but it was certainly more than two ships passing in the night.Â The chemistry existed, but like the fireworks purchased on the fourth, sometimes potential proves to be a dud.
Unfortunately, this was not the first time I have run into trouble concerning matters of the heart.Â I wonder if there is a subconscious draw to people who are not good for us, or if the lessons of life are wrapped in unique packages to get our attention and teach us what we need and want to know.
The dance I chose to dance last year was with a man whose energy was electric and touched my soul deeply.Â For reasons that make little sense to me today, I gave him my heart and entertained thoughts of blissful togetherness. I was magnetized by his energy and wisdom and the current that pulled us to be.Â When it became clear that his long-term intentions were not aligned with mine, I was hurt and bewildered by the sudden disconnect.Â One moment the world was white and the very next it was black.Â My heart broke and I made our ending mean I wasnâ€™t lovable.
I understand today that is not the case and the circumstances of our union were simply designed by the cosmos to teach me to dance my own dance.Â Iâ€™m guessing the cosmos also had a gift for him, but that is his to unwrapâ€¦
What remains is the lesson of two souls whose paths merged, albeit for a short time. I didnâ€™t know it then, but the darkness of that delusion, and essentially what I learned from having survived it, has morphed me into somebody wiser than before.Â I didnâ€™t know I had more depth and strength (didnâ€™t think I needed it), but it has proven necessary and is a gift I must have needed and wanted to receive.
The former me was naive and confused fireworks for something significant.Â Fireworks are great, but fizzle fast.Â AnyÂ pyrotechnic professionalÂ will tell you it’s important to read the warning labels and not confuse theÂ sparkÂ of a punk with theÂ dazzle ofÂ an explosion.
I tend to give others the benefit of the doubt.Â I love and give deeply, without regret, but I now know how to recognize a potential scorch long before Iâ€™m too mesmerized by the glitz and glamor of the display. I can’t say I’ve become hardened, but where Cowboy Casanova is concerned, I applaud myself for reading the warning labels and recognizing him as a punk, not a significant show.Â I might have missed that had I not danced the dance before.
Its not yet clear to me what the Cowboy Casanova brought to my life, but perhaps that is the gift — not knowing, but simply seeing and enjoying the show.