I had the pleasure of making conversation with a stranger a few nights ago. There is an art to making conversation, and when two people come together, sometimes this collaboration yields beautiful results. This time, it did. I left the conversation feeling exhausted as usual, invigorated, and incredibly vulnerable.
I'm used to spiritual revitalization from mutually supporting my Buddhist community members. I rely on my parents and friends (more heavily than parentals) for emotional revitalization. But it was a strange sensation to feel anything other than drained from interacting with a potential partner. That probably says more about my tendency toward the role of emotional caretaker in romantic relationships than I'd prefer, but I digress.
Initially, I was surprised that I felt vulnerable afterwards, intellectually and emotionally. It's been a very long time since I've felt like that. In the moment, I decided to trust him, even if on a very small scale like telling deeply personal stories of my past. As I digested the reasons why I felt so exposed, I saw that time has taught me to be logical and force partners to access my heart at a slower pace than my heart wants to be accessed. Is that a symptom of being too trusting in my youth and subsequently burned by my partners? Or
is it a part of my red-hot heart slowly cooling as I amass wisdom and spend more
time in this world?
Because I recognized this trust-aversion at all and because of my residual feelings of emotional defenselessness, I see that I do still have the capacity to trust partners. That's wonderful! In the last six months--when I determined to take a furlough from dating--I wondered if that ["trusting"] muscle was shriveled up and slowly dying… If I can in fact exert that muscle, would it be an act of naivety or faith? I guess that depends on perspective…
