Being in a brand new relationship (three weeks yesterday!) is wonderful for the most part, but it also has its pitfalls. When you've been single as long as I've been single, there are certain things about your dating life and your dating vocabulary that have just become part of your mindset. There are certain Single Girl cues that you take without being very aware that you're taking them. Like letting out sardonic laughter with your girlfriends about some ruinous man in some ruinous situation. Fantastic. But with your boyfriend around, perhaps not quite the impression you want to make.
I've been single-ish for close to four years now, and I don't regret a moment of it. Oh, sure, there were some drunken mistakes, some "I really don't know what I was thinking" moments, but I always have justified them as being part of "character development" and "helping me to grow" and all the other The Girl Who Sold Her Manolos jazz. But this morning I was lying in bed, watching smoke tendrils drift to the ceiling and wondering, "Just how much information is too much information?" (It was also a very SATC moment, and I'm having a bit of a SATC revival, having watched the movie earlier (TERRIBLE) and then, yesterday, making JC and Yamini's boyfriend sit and watch Season One, just so they could see what the fuss was about. Both boys loved it. Hmmm, I think I'LL rewatch season one tonight with some daal-chaawal.)
Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I have friends who have had a crazy wild past as well, and I have friends who don't really have very much of a past at all, and what these friends have in common is not sharing either of their pasts with the person in their present. "I just want him to get to know me better before he judges me," said a friend to me, the other day. I, of course, took the opposing point of view, ie, how can someone know you without knowing everything that went into making you who you are today? So, that weekend soujourn with a married man? It should be shared so a) there aren't any unhappy discoveries later and b) the worst stuff is already out there so everything you say post that just makes you awesome. (Hypothetical situation, by the way, for all my concerned readers.)
On the other hand, there are moments like I've had last night where Old Acquaintance came up to us and said, "Hey, eM, how's it going?" "Oh good," I said, "You know, same ol', same ol'." "Another day, another dude, eh?" he said, at which I smiled and said through gritted teeth, "This is my boyfriend, JC, Old Acquaintance, Old A., JC." "Hey!" said Old A. (where the 'a' is now standing for many other things in my head) "You lasted a week! Good for you." Now Old A was being a bit of a retard and doing the whole "I'm so weary in this city of single people and I sense you are weary too" banter. The sort of banter I've done in the past. But the point is, I really, really did not want my person to be listening to this aspect of my life. I have been honest with him, and hey, he does read this blog, so he kinda knows my Deep Dark Deeds anyway, but there are times when I wish I hadn't said anything. That I had remained coolly mysterious, and eyelash lowered and demure. Well, perhaps not demure, but enigmatic. Sexy. How can someone who is aware of my *ahem* relations with people we now meet and air-kiss at bars still think I'm all that?
On the other hand, I still feel slightly defiant about the whole thing. Chin up, body language taut, every posture screams, "I'm not done, there's more, I've done a whole bunch of shit, you still wanna stick around, punk?" (And, heh, I admit, sitting there sometimes going macho-ly in my head, "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!") But what I had failed to factor in was "selective truth telling." The kind other women do so well. I should have waited till he was a complete eM-addict before springing it on him. (Well, perhaps not, because I have this ol' blog but still.)
But you want to know the awesome thing? He's still around. And he hasn't shown any indications of leaving. I feel like Maria in The Sound Of Music.
Perhaps I had a wicked childhood, perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, there must have been a moment of truth
For here you are standing there loving me, whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.