Feel it out

I'm learning there's no shortcut to true love

Someone confided in me recently that most of their long-term relationships began with a simmer instead of a spark. It’s the same with my deep friendships. I disliked two of my friends when we first met as kids or teenagers long ago. With one, it took years of back and forth until I knew it was love.

I’m learning to trust the process. Learning that the “feeling out” stage is healthy and that what I used to think was true—the rapid flame, the aha sense of meeting a soulmate—is what I should actually fear.

Feeling someone out over time allows me to see them clearly, flaws and all. It gives me space to choose whether I want to trust them instead of needing to trust them because I’d already placed my aching heart in their hands.

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On my first morning in Bali, I met a woman at a coffee shop. She complimented my outfit (she has good taste, hehe) and we began to chat. Two coconuts, an espresso, and a cappuccino later, I learned she was a writer from Peru who moved here eight years ago. She asked why I was visiting, and I wasn’t sure what to say. It was a question I’d asked myself the night before while jetlagged and listening to the strange call of a lizard coming from the bathroom. Why was I here, seventeen time zones away, on what some might call an overly indulgent vacation?

She offered me her story, which led to discussing our past relationships. For her, a dead spouse and a recent breakup. For me, a series of connections that never felt right. Trusting people who went on to betray me and shunning those who may have offered safe berths.

The woman opened her bag and handed me a book. I just finished it, she said. Perhaps it will help you too. Perhaps we were meant to meet like this, and I was meant to pass it along.

It was a book about healing from narcissistic people- a term, narcissist, I’ve been skeptical of because of its overuse. I thanked her and took it. I’d forgotten to pack reading for this trip, not realizing there’d be a lack of English-language bookstores. It wasn’t exactly the vacation novel I had in mind but, something drew me in.

I’m halfway through and finding it helpful. A collection of topics and ideas I’ve come across before, centered around what is perhaps the core wound. My people-pleasing and codependent strains. How it still feels so right when I spark with a new person that I’ll give up years of un-learnings and once again dive past the red flags into trusting a stranger with my heart.

This woman and I saw things in each other. Similar pathways through rough loves. It’s not uncommon for creative people to find ourselves in relationships with those who wish to suck us dry. They sniff out our openness, and often we’re not concerned enough with guarding ourselves because there are other ways we’d rather spend our time.

I’m discovering my part in these dynamics. A scary mixture of my own narcissistic features, coupled with a desire to self-abandon and treat another’s wounds. After all, it’s thrilling to be a passenger. To hop into someone’s car and leave my decisionmaking behind. It feels so innate to me still, losing myself in the blissful terror.

The downside of people-pleasing is that it involves manipulation. It’s insincere to mold myself to what I hope someone wants. I’ve been called charming more times than I would like. What at first felt like a compliment now stings with the implication of falsity, reducing me to a shape-shifter working the room.

My charm is both a gift and a curse. It’s what brings me meaningful exchanges with strangers like the woman in the cafe, but what also attracts the drivers who want me in their car for their needs alone.

What my long-term relationships have taught me is that we aren’t solid until we’ve fought and then repaired. When I’ve dropped the charm and bared my wounds and still, they stick around.

Gosh, the pain of abandonment when someone sees my messiness and leaves me in the dirt. All that time spent carefully crafting our dynamic to have it shattered.

Losing a friend is the deepest pain I’ve experienced. A love that is meant to last beyond whatever romance throws our way, gone to the winds of their disinterest. Looking back to see how many chances I gave them. How many times I saw past their faults only to be abandoned when I revealed my own.

That is why I’m shifting to the slow burns. People I allow myself to be skeptical of. To observe them without placing all my weight in their arms.

This takes time. Sitting in the discomfort of not knowing. Letting go of my projections- the fantasies that used to keep me safe but have outgrown.

I want to live in reality. In the fullness of seeing my friends as flawed people. Fantasy can take different shapes now, here in the realm of creative work.

I want to see and be seen, shadows and all. Let someone sniff me out while I them, two animals searching for safe passage. It’s okay to move slowly. In the meantime, whatever happens with my relationships, I’ll have my own back, too.

Photos from dinner in Canggu. I think I want to be friends with this woman, but there's no rush. Why don't I wait and see how she acts when she's stressed and the way she treats others. See how I feel around her after having a bad day. Maybe then, with enough time, I'll know.

Cover photo by Gohar Dashti, an artist I discovered through the Spring 2021 issue of Orion Magazine.