Nevermind

I just took down a post, which I rarely do around here.  I prefer to let my mistakes speak for themselves, but this one was about this fledgling relationship I'm getting into, and the post felt lousy.  I invited you to opine on convertibles, and what to think about a man who wants to buy one.  It felt lighthearted when I wrote it but stopped feeling that way when people started speculating in the comments about his judgment, his character, his security, his wealth, his looks, his age, and his intentions.  It somehow felt mean, and dishonest.

The honest post would have said: I really like this guy.  And I like convertibles, too, actually.  I feel vulnerable for liking him.  It's uncomfortable at moments.  I'm looking for reasons to walk away, so I won't feel vulnerable any more, but I don't really want to.  There are a lot of reasons to let this develop.  And some reasons to be wary.  Of course we've talked about all of them.  The convertible is a nifty little symbol of both sides of the coin: the joy of driving in a seaside town in Maine with the wind in your hair and the smell of the ocean all around you, the resolution to take pleasure where you find it.  And, yes, a man re-imagining his own life, and himself too, with all the perils to innocent bystanders that that entails.  I expect some of that confusion and vulnerability leak through to the posts I write.  Maybe you felt it in the mere question -- what do I make of this convertible, anyway? 

My doubts are wobbly, and my hope is fragile.   I learned today that it feels a little too tender to turn it over for the speculation of strangers. 

Comments

[anthony]

One's life experience should be vibrant and sensual. Some experience the world very visually; others are tactile or auditory creatures. We all have preferences, certain pathways to our consciousness that make the world feel alive to us, that make us feel like an integral part of the world, stirring a slumbering spirit.

A convertible is one way; it all depends on which senses move us most deeply - which make us feel more connected to the life experience.

Society is full of people who are content to live their lives in boxes - sensory boxes, home boxes, car boxes, conceptual boxes, so whenever I see someone sticking their nose out of them figuratively or literally I think it a sign of someone seeking a more authentic and memorable life.

Or maybe he just has a small penis.

[Christina]

I wrote about feeling vulnerable, myself, today and yesterday. I always wonder how long I have to know/see/date someone before I'll feel like I can really trust him . . . I'm thinking about some of the same things you are these days, it seems.

[anthony]

Also with love and growth there must always be vulnerabilty. Like there must always be pain. Sounds bleak, but once accepted, it's wonderful. xo

[Waterhot]

I hope it wasn't my comment that made you feel mean. It was an interesting post, very provocative. But for what it's worth, I think you've done the right thing taking it down, and I admire your honesty in admitting the mistake.

[David]

It is posts like this one that make me continue to revisit your blog.

You have many talents, one of which is to express yourself in a way that, to my mind, clearly reflects your feelings, be they one of joy or uncertainty or any of the other myriad of emotions humans can experience.

I think one of the captivating aspects of your blog is that you appear to be re-imagining your own life on a somewhat continual basis (as does everyone); being cautious about a man who is re-imagining his life is understandable, but if the re-imagining includes you, I'm not sure that such a re-imagination is a point of concern (if the re-imagination is reciprocal, of course).