The Cave of Wonder

                                                                                                                   




On August 20th, 2022, I turned 37. That’s 37 trips around the sun. The earth has to travel over 580 million miles to orbit the sun once. In my life, my bag of bones has traveled over 201 billion miles. (I tried to do the exact math on this. I was unsuccessful. Feel free to post the exact numbers in the comments. I’m a writer, not a mathematician.) 


During my 201 billion miles, I’ve made equally as many mistakes when it comes to the men in my life. (Not a mathematician.) OK, let’s not call them mistakes, let’s call them learning experiences. 


I started to like boys at an early age, and I didn’t really have a very good idea of what to look for. The other women in my life had similar issues, but were able to find their diamond in the rough after years of searching. I looked to their relationships for guidance, but they were all different than I was in many ways, as we all have our unique desires and dreams. Needless to say, what worked for them wasn’t really going to work for me.


So as I got older, I dated all different types of men (and a couple women) from all walks of life. Now, I’m a good solid 7/10 on most days, 7.5 when I’m my best self. I dated 2’s, I dated 5’s, the very rare 7. More often than not, I dated below my bracket. I sought the attention of those who would give it to me, and even those who wouldn’t. But after 201 billion miles, here I am, single as a 40-year-old introvert who still lives in her parents’ basement. (I don’t, by the way. Not anymore.) 


It’s not that I view myself as unworthy of love; I most certainly don’t. In fact, I view myself as worthy of a special kind of love. A love that has seemingly eluded me, for 201 billion miles. 


Admittedly, I’m a binge dater. I was in a series of consecutive relationships at intervals throughout my life, each dominated by whatever weird phase I was going through. 


For anyone who knows me, I’m a fan of phases. A repeat offender. They’re never the “trendy” phases, they’re simply defined by whatever inspired me at that point in my life. When I was very  young, it was church, then in middle school I was edgy, then I was a band and choir geek who thought I was edgy, sneaking smokes during marching band and choir practice. In my teenage years, I went through a riskier phase that I’ll leave at that (my mother WILL read this… happy world). 


I moved to Colorado when I was 19, thus beginning a new phase of my life. While I continued to dabble in risky behavior, I grew passionate about hiking and camping. And working. I was usually working 3 jobs at once to afford the cost of living in the Vail area. 


During my 17 years in Colorado, I had small sub-phases that I would dip my toe into. Sometimes they were inspired by the men in my life, sometimes they were inspired by friends and family. Some of them have stuck through the years, like barnacles on a whale. Some of them fell off due to turbulence, like barnacles off a whale. It just occurred to me that I’m the whale in that metaphor. I’m cool with that. I’ve been called worse. I’m a whale that’s traveled 201 billion miles. Or was it 210? Through space. I’m a traveling space whale. Not a mathematician.


The relationships in my life, they’ve shaped me. Carved me out like the Colorado River carves the Grand Canyon. They’ve shaped me into who I am now, through years of weather and erosion, movement and deposition. 


If I look closely enough, I see times where I was run ragged by a series of relationships that cut deep, leaving little tributaries that fought to break through the earth. When the relationship would end, I would stand there on the rim of the canyon, looking for the raging river. Where had it gone? What had I done to cause it to run dry? I didn’t want a dry riverbed.


And what do we do when the rivers run dry, you ask? WE PRAY FOR RAIN.


There’s a song about this exact thing. It’s called “It’s Raining Men” which the appropriately named Weather Girls brought to us back in 1979. 


So back out I would go to the bars, or start flirting at work or in later years, download the apps, or WHATEVER I could do to bring the flow of love back into my river. Thus began the repeat cycle. My very own geological cycle.


During points in my geological cycle, my river would run at it’s peak. Points where I couldn’t see the river from the rim of the canyon, because I wasn’t looking for it. In my late 20’s and early 30’s, I was single(ish) for 8 years. I didn’t pursue any serious relationships with anyone. During that time, I was in my educational phase. I took a full load or more of college classes for 6 years straight. I was on the dean’s honor roll almost every semester. I was working all my jobs doing all my homework, and feeling good. I was a 7.5. I was still working hard, but  instead of working on a relationship, I was working on myself. Only I didn’t see it that way at the time, and I fell back into my primal instinct. To fill the riverbed with love. 


As human beings, we have the innate desire to be drawn to other humans. To be intimate with them. Evolutionarily, this has taught us that intimacy is the only way to procreate, to keep our species alive; To keep it from becoming extinct. When we are single, biological clocks tick, and our bodies reply in a panicked response without even realizing we’re doing it. We crave intimacy. You know what they say: If it feels good, it’s probably bad for you.In my case, this was most certainly true.


Before long, I would fall back into another relationship. 


For my entire life, I have attracted a certain kind of human. I give off certain pheromones that say “hey, assholes, I’m over here!” It still baffles me as to why I am incapable of selecting a mate who will treat me with love and respect. It’s a mystery that has yet to be solved, which is why after 221 billion miles, I’m still single. And I still suck at math. 


In retrospect, my river never really ran dry. It simply found a path of its own, carving through soft ground and into a cave, a cave I had yet to really explore - who I really was, and more importantly, how I felt about who I really was. My cave of wonders. 


But what I have figured out is that with enough hard work, patience, and daunting self-reflection, I never needed a partner to fill my riverbed of love.Years of learning experiences and wisdom earned with age have made the hard work pay off. While most people are married with children at my age, I have earned a lifetime of experiences that have made me who I am. Yes, it’s messy. But is it fun? You betcha.


I’m on the road to being highly educated, I have established a surprising career as a talent recruiter, and I am a damn good writer. I’m a loyal (to a fault), loving, honest and caring person. I give 110% to everything I do (except math), and I recently discovered that I’m halfway decent at public speaking, which was my biggest fear in college. I’m single, and considering my track record, that is a HUGE win. And I’ve done it, for the most part, on my own. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have an incredible support system in my friends and family. But it was the choices that I made to get me to where I am now.


What I learned is that if I took the time to walk the long and steep path into the canyon, there is a cave of wonder full of treasures that has yet to be explored.   





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