R.I.P. Big-D

If you've been with me since the beginning (or at least since my early blogging days), you'll remember all of the swooning I did over Big-D and the plethora of adventures (and mis-adventures) we had.  In many ways, those were good times, until the awful heartache anyway.  But I moved on -- or at least tried.

It took me over a year before I was really into the idea of having a relationship with someone else.  I dated a little here and there but no one really excited me.  But then, this one time at band camp guy was sorta cute and tons of fun.  I would've totally been up for the idea of pursuing something with him.  The problem was he started to drag his feet a little.  And it's not like I'm in a race to the altar or anything.  But, like I've said before,  there needs to be balance -- like a tennis match.  He serves (calls), and you hit back (return the call).  If you've texted or called him first one day, then let him be the first to call or text you the next.  In a previous post I briefly mentioned an article I read about why women should let men be the "hunters" and not the "hunted" -- and about how when the girl lets him "be the man" he becomes more emotionally invested.  There is also this great article {{HERE}} about how women need to back off  and not hover over the men they're interested in because "the more you do for him, the less he does for you, and the less he feels for you." Looking back I can see where I went wrong with Big-D and I did not want to do that with this other dude.  So, I didn't.  And guess what?  He didn't do anything either -- for like 3 weeks, not so much as a word.

When I finally caught up with him, he gave me the little song and dance about how he's just been super busy, but that I shouldn't worry -- It's nothing I did, blah blah blah.  We had that discussion before.  And I "get" being busy.  *I* am busy.  But really?  If he liked me THAT much, he'd take the 60 seconds out of his day to send a text, right?  I replied by saying something to the following effect:  "So you've said before, about being busy.  But here is what I think.  I think that I liked you more than you liked me -- and that's okay.  I think you're a great guy and a lot of fun, and I genuinely enjoy our friendship.  So, don't stop coming around and if you want I'll even introduce you to some other girls."  There was a long pause before he replied.  Yeah - I think I caught him off guard. I wasn't angry or anything; I just wanted him to realize it's better to call a spade a spade rather than to play games and lead a girl on by continuously saying stupid stuff like,, "I really do like you -- I'm just busy."  Fact: If you like her, you'll make time.  I stand by my proclamation girls, if he isn't making an effort to call you or to be with you, then he's just not THAT into you.  Suffice it to say, I left that guy behind and moved on once again.

In the article that says men like to be the hunter {{HERE}} it also talks about why many men have trouble committing and therefore stay single well into their 30's & 40's.  (He's great, but still single -- why?)  It mostly revealed that these men suffer from a type of relationship anxiety called "anticipatory anxiety."  I love stuff like this, so needless to say, I was fascinated by the article and a few of my friends and I have discussed it in great detail lately.  One of my friends is struggling with a guy like this and mentioned how hard it is to sometimes get over someone.  I thought about that and wondered, if Big-D called me out of the blue and asked me out (it's been over 18 months since I've seen him), what would I do? What would I say?  I started to wonder if I was truly over him.  Then I had this dream one night last week...

A friend calls me up and tells me Big-D is dead.  "Dead?" I ask. Unbelievable.  He's a healthy, fit guy -- he's a trail runner, for crying out loud.  He couldn't have possibly had a heart attack or something.  "How did he die?" I ask.  She replies, "He drowned."  "Drowned? Where?  How?"  "In a hotel swimming pool," she says, "surrounded by his family."  My response?  A long silent pause.  I don't get choked up, I don't cry.  Finally I say, "Hmm.  So sad.  I mean, here is is nearly 40 years old and died lonely.  Too bad he suffered from anticipatory anxiety or he could have spent the last several years with someone...  Rest in Peace, Big-D."  

Haha.  Who says "anticipatory anxiety" in a dream???  I do, apparently.  The more I played and replayed that dream in my mind that day the more I thought about how sad it really is that some men feel pressure from their families to be married - so much so, that it triggers the very anxiety that prevents them from taking that next step.  He drowned right in front of his family.  Whoa. If that's not symbolic...

What I also thought was symbolic for me was the fact that I did not cry in my dream.  Anyone who knows me knows that I am a crier.  I cry over happy things, I cry over sad things.  I cry when I hear our National Anthem or the recitation of our Pledge of Allegiance or the Declaration of Independence.  I cry when the crowning of Miss America is broadcast live for all the world to see.  Seriously -- I cry over everything.  But over this?  Not.A.Tear.  I felt sad, but in a sorry-for-him way, not in an I'll-miss-you-like-crazy kind of way.  It was a good dream, because it let me know that I am over him and that I do not want to go back to a relationship wherein I am the one doing all of the work, keeping it going.  I don't want to just love someone -- I want to love him for the way he loves me.

It gives me assurance that I have forever closed that chapter in my life and am ready to move on.  This is also an affirmation to me that when I am with the guy I'm dating now (wait -- what did she just say???), I know that I am with him.  He's not just filling the empty space left behind.

So truly... Rest In Peace, Big-D, Rest In Peace.