She (who shall remain nameless) didn't shut the door on "us"; she just said she needs time to get things in her life together, time to get things properly oriented so she can make any sort of decision regarding "us." She didn't tell me to wait, and I didn't tell her I would. But should I? As I told Carly, there are four possible scenarios:
1. I wait and, in time, we date.
2. I wait, and she decides, in time, "No" to us.
3. I don't wait, and then she wants to date, but then it's too late.
4. I don't wait, she decides "No," and this little drama is over before it begins.
It all, at least on my end, boils down to fight or flight. Will I fight for her (i.e. wait) or run from her (i.e. not wait)? I know that if the end result of waiting were guaranteed to work out in my (or our?) favor, then it'd be a simple decision. Right now the hopeful (albeit small) part of me is ready to take up arms and fight for her, for us, for what we can be. Yet at the same time, the cynical part of me (the bigger part, put in place by countless experiences of rejection, betrayal, and mind-numbing disappointment) wants to "run for the hills," so-to-speak. There's tension and there's terror: the tension between Hope & Cynicism, and the terror of knowing that down either road, great pain and loss and heartache may very well be experienced.
Really, the waiting game doesn't bother me. I told Carly, "She was very honest about what would happen if we dated and she didn't yet bring things in her life together; it wouldn't turn out well." She cares enough about me to not put me through that, as she's put other guys. And I really appreciate that, I truly do. Waiting is the most wise and responsible thing to do (for either of us). The fright found in waiting isn't so much the waiting itself but what waiting can do to me. Again, hail experience: not too long ago I "waited" on someone, and this waiting exacted quite the toll on my heart. Waiting, you see, isn't a passive thing; it's very much active. It takes patience, endurance, determination. All of this is exhausting in and of itself; couple it with the reality that, amidst the process of waiting (and in a large part due to the process itself), the heart becomes more and more invested, more and more focused, more and more wrapped into the idea (the hope, the fantasy, the illusion, whatever you wish to call it) of what lies at the end of the road. The heart becomes so involved that it beats in rhythm with the desired result. This would make the realization of that goal all the more wonderful, to be sure. But what happens when the goal isn't realized? Or, worse yet, when your goal is realized but not by you? When all your patient waiting and striving and fighting and, sometimes, dying leads to nothing but someone else taking your spot, swooping in, and leaving you all alone in the dust like a beaten and bloodied animal to lick your wounds?
Let me tell you (in the off-chance that you're lucky enough not to have experienced this): it's akin to having your heart ventricles flooded with battery acid, or an open-heart surgery gone wrong without anesthesia to help numb the pain. The emotional torment--no, torture--of such an event is immense and indescribable, and I know this because I've gone the waiting route before and I nearly destroyed myself (quite literally) in the process. They'll tell you that in deciding whether or not to wait, the question to be answered is, "Is she worth it?" My response? Unanimously, YES! But that's not all there is to the equation; you must also ask, "Am I worth it?" Is setting off down a road that could very well lead to a less-than-satisfying destination--not to mention the possibility of near self-destruction--worth the chance (however meager) that things might turn out well?
Once upon a time I told a dear friend, "Risk is always a factor. With things like these, there's always the risk of getting hurt--but there's also, at the same time, the risk of missing out on something beautiful." I was much more hopeful and optimistic in those earlier days; now I'm a bitter, cold, and calloused creature (or a wizened one?), and I don't know which path to take. Behold: the tension, and the terror.
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