First World Problems

Poor dear neglected diary. I haven't been posting much although much has been happening, partly because I didn't want to jinx anything (nor do I still) but partly also because there were things I wanted to keep hidden. Now, you know me. I live out loud, and in the open, so this is kind of contrary to the way I roll. Since everyone involved knows mostly everything except essentially what I'm feeling and what will happen, and I think only Rob reads this regularly anyway (hi rob!), I guess I should try and write some of this out.

So I'm seeing someone. It's a thing that started out as almost a mentoring gig, an opportunity to offer a friend some experience, but... it's deepened somewhat. You'll notice I'm still skirting the "r" word. He's ... wonderful. Mature, responsible, fun, silly, funny, smart, ambitious... hot as hell... AND long hair. Oh YES.

So why the hesitation, you ask? You know me so well.

Well, there's three things. He's a n00b at this rela... I almost said it. This longer-term seeing someone thing. He's new to the scene. I am a four-time reigning champ with the belts to prove it. First romances usually have the lifespan of expendable barnyard animals.

He's younger than me by a considerable margin. He needs freedom to travel and move and do stuff... and someday he wants a family. ie, babies.

So that's him. And then there's me. I've been getting a lot of joy from being single. I like the freedom. I've kept this open, ostensibly for him, but maybe also for me too. But the real truth is, I'm afraid. When I look into his eyes and feel my heart opening, my brain flashes to a vision of me left behind for someone skinnier, hotter, younger, richer. That scar that's mostly healed flares up and I want to run.


Ok, so that's what's behind door number 1. Fate, in a funny twist, decided I needed a door 2. Enter the long-distance other thing (no labels beyond the vague here). The unexpected witty, handsome, responsible, funny, mature again RIDICULOUSLY younger man from the Valley. I've seen him twice. Talk online regularly. So... is this a thing? or is this my escape hatch (see above, under fear).

I don't know. And I'm frozen. I don't know what to do. If I'd been popular in high school I'd at least have a reference point for this problem. If the first man didn't exist I would have no problem--in fact I'd be delighted to be seeing the second, although I'd still hesitate over the age. But every day the first man means a bit more to me and every day I'm more afraid of that feeling, and of losing him, which ultimately is inevitable.

It's an embarrassment of riches riddled with borrowed trouble, I know.

Sigh.