One Thing I Know For Sure...

Otherwise known as... The Mousetrap...

Just after I launched Single in late June 2011, I met another single who was... in a modern-day word, uh-mazing.  He was exactly my type-- forward-thinking, boyishly handsome, quick with a quip, and so very smart.  I was his type too, and our connection was... undeniable.

It was also intense, and more than a bit scary, for a guy who had been burned.  Badly.

I recognize that relationships are all about timing.  2011 wasn't our time.

A few weeks ago I rejoined Match.com, largely due to an ad on FB from Life is Good, as I wrote about in Casting a Hook.  I was ready to put myself back out there.  It's messy, and at times painful, but that's all part of the process of dating in the new millennium.

This other single, whom long-time readers will remember as the charmer Jerry, emailed me through Match about a month ago.  I emailed back, with trepidation.  He apologized for the way things had ended, and I told him that I understand about timing.  It's true. 

A couple of brief emails later, he asked me if I would like to have dinner together with friends of his that Friday night.  I accepted.

What followed was in many ways, wonderful, and in other ways, a mousetrap.

The thing is, three weeks ago, after that first night out of reconnection, he kissed me, and told me that I was home.  The words were incredibly sweet, and I wanted so badly for them to be true.

How else can one take that statement?  I thought that I had become a we.

I was wrong.... again.

I really hate being wrong, particularly about a relationship with so much potential.  The hardest part is that we allowed history to gleefully repeat itself without stopping to examine how we could do things differently this time around to avoid the same sad results.

I relayed the news to my lunch group yesterday, and they were really upset.  Jen, you have to know it's not you.

I'm okay.  At least this time I didn't give away my heart. 

Which is true.  I had great hope, and now just feel let down and confused.  My life is full of all kinds of good things, but one thing I know I know for sure is that I am ready to be one half of a we that makes me feel good, and right, and secure.  The older I get, the harder it is to find people whose battle wounds don't prevent them from opening up to the possibility of something really good.  As for myself , I know I am scarred-- what thirtysomething isn't?

The difference is, I don't let these scars keep me from living.

The last day that I saw Jerry in 2011, I had been to the dermatologist to get a skin cancer removed on my left forearm.  (Single chronicled this event in Sun... Burned and Franken-Jen.)  For the longest time the incision left a messy, jagged mark on my precious skin.  It has taken a while, but now I hardly notice it's there.

With time, scars fade.  They become part of us and we keep going.  And so shall Jen Single...

Author's note:  For those who want to understand the history behind this poignant post, she recommends (in chronological order)  The Good Date, The Dogs Kissed Me First, and It Was Only a Week.  She's feeling a bit tender, but she'll be okay... she always is.  :-)