So…
Feelings…
I’ve spent a fair amount of time reflecting on emotions and relationships in the last few weeks, in large part due to the fact that I’ve been in a few situations that I’ve needed to evaluate on both moral and emotional grounds. Word of warning: I very much doubt that the present post will be the final word on these subjects!
Situation the First: During the Fringe Festival, I made the acquaintance of a pleasant and engaging young woman who would have been interested in pursuing a short-term physical relationship with me over the course of her stopover in town. Since I’m not a person for whom flings would work (for various reasons that you, gentle reader, are no doubt aware), I respectfully declined her offer but did proceed to spend a fair amount of time with her over the following week, simply hanging around and talking about things. When it came time for her group to depart, she noted that her investment of emotional energy made it far more difficult to leave than any amount of physical intimacy would have. Though such a perspective is alien to me, given my own hangups about sex, it was obviously true for her. This made me wonder: Did I do something wrong? Was I morally culpable for the difficulties she experienced? Is simply being honest about where I am coming from (e.g., in my case, noting that I enjoyed spending time with her but that I did not want more than that) enough to absolve me of responsibility?
Situation the Second: Actually, I’m not sure that I am at liberty to discuss this situation here, though I’ve at least been able to post-mortem it with my primary source of emotional advice (thanks, bro). Suffice it to say that the crux of it once again rests upon the intersection between honesty, my own inexperience, and the attendant emotional effects of the previous two factors (on myself and others).
Here’s the problem: the thought that I am hurting people’s feelings (especially people that I care about) causes me a fair amount of distress. Unfortunately, the concomitant desire to avoid causing those around me emotional discomfort (a fact that is certainly no less true in situations where I am involved in complicated relationships) is at times incompatible with my attempts to be honest and straightforward about my feelings. Though there would have been a time in my life when, if given the choice, I would have chosen avoidance of (perceived) emotional damage over honesty, this balance has now shifted… In most ways, I think that this is a positive move, as it is more respectful and less paternalistic (in that I am treating those around me as adults rather than attempting to somehow guard their delicate feelings), but it places me into situations where I am (albeit reluctantly) hurting people. This is difficult for me.
I feel like I’m simultaneously socially/emotionally advanced and retarded… On the positive side, I have made huge strides in interpersonal honesty. If I have a problem with something, I can now be counted on to discuss it. In the process, I like to think that I’ve established myself as the sort of person who can be trusted, whose words can hopefully be taken at face value. In a similar fashion, I’ve been slowly excavating myself out from beneath the edifice of fears and insecurities that I’d spent the previous decade building, largely by being extremely open about my issues. I’ve gone from a situation where I would share concerns (e.g., my multifarious worries about sexual intimacy) with one or two people in the world to one where I will talk about these things openly with anyone who will listen (to the extent that I will even blog about them). These are all positive things. On the negative side, I am *way* behind the curve when it comes to the adult experience of dating and romance. Examples: I have a lot of issues with physical intimacy; I don’t know the proper progression(s) that take place in a healthy relationship; I am only now learning to trust my own instincts (and, even though I’ve made progress, I still have a very hard time doing the mental accounting between physiological desires, emotional impressions and intellectual assessments); I lack a great deal of confidence (i.e., even if we accept the premise that I know what I want, would I actually think that I deserved it?); and, finally, I’m still not sure what it is reasonable to want/expect in a potential mate. All of this combines to make me a difficult and prickly person to spend time with, as I often don’t know what to do (or even what I want) in situations of romantic potentiality. Whether this uncertainty is made worse or better by my open admission of my own uncertainty and cluelessness is a question that I need to consider carefully.
The upshot of all of this is that I feel like a doltish main character in a slapstick film, foolishly stumbling through beautifully decorated rooms carrying a giant ladder. Every time I turn, there’s a danger that I might knock over a priceless Ming vase (or, worse yet, that I might buffet some unsuspecting individual about the head and shoulders). I can only hope that my Chaplainesque naivety will allow me to be forgiven for my clumsiness.
