I am a serial long distance dater.
So much so, I told a friend/pseudo suitor, he was in fact, “too local.”
I haven’t had a same city relationship probably since 2003.
I haven’t had a same state/timezone relationship since 2006.
Even the men I’ve decided to date casually or spend time with, they have always lived far away.
The local men never last.
I think I’ve figured out why.
Being a long distance lover, you live for those weekend getaways. There’s an excitement attached to hopping on a plane and leaving your mundane world behind for the arms of your lover/love.
You get gorgeous, you shave where you are supposed to.
You smell good, you can’t wait to see them, they can’t wait to see you. You’ve planned your best outfits.
You normally have great dates planned, fabulous dinners, taking in the sites of a city that’s not your own.
Then you part ways, until the next time.
Usually because of the expense of flying, even the most spontaneous of visits are planned at least three days out. Which is enough time to get oneself together, do any cleaning, etc.
Even though I’m trying to have better habits when it comes to cleaning or getting rid of clutter in my house, I’m not as prepared for unexpected company as I’d like to be and it makes me a bit ashamed and uncomfortable. Even when I’ve cleaned from top to bottom I have some kind of disorder/insecurity that makes me think my visitors still won’t think it’s clean enough, even though I know it’s clean.
I never want any man I’m interested in to think I can’t keep home, but because I don’t have a lot of company very often, sometimes I’m not as vigilant on keeping everything perfect. So I have to be in control of visits if I’m dealing with a local man. He can’t come over unannounced and not unless I think my house is right.
Meanwhile, there’s a part of me that’s like, I don’t live in filth and anyone who likes me should understand I work everyday and drive a total of nearly two hours each day for my commute. I’m not Suzie Homemaker. Take me and my home as I am.
I’m eclectic, I have lots of books and magazines, most of which are in shelves but can end up in various parts of my house. I sometimes have inspiration boards and tee-shirt stuff everywhere in my living room.
So am I scared of commitment? No, just scared of someone being all up in my space and face and suddenly realizing I’m not really as wonderful and put together as they thought (and as I advertised). Keeping up appearances is tiring and I need someone to see through all of that and think I’m the best thing since sliced bread.
That was my biggest fear when I was engaged. I was scared, he’d eventually declare false advertisement. Bear in mind, I think I was the most real I had ever been in a relationship with him. He saw me sick, he saw me in grief, he knows I can eat like a linebacker and blow up a bathroom.
But according to married folks, everyone is going to declare false advertisement at some point anyway. Everyone is going to say what they signed up for isn’t what they thought they signed up for.
I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
Local fellas….eh, I still don’t know about yall. You’re just too close… Can’t let yall catch me slippin.