The Last One: For Life Yet Still Single

Heartbreak, Self

Sometimes it's the smarter option to know when to walk away and close the door on a project

My two friends who met online are getting married in June. When they deleted their profiles it was because they found their one in one another. Others are not so lucky. The stories are all different but they all led to a decision to delete and sign off from digital dating for the same reason. It just didn't work out. After a full on effort for at least a year or more the outcomes were showing a negative ROI. The smarter option is to cease and desist all experiences that reflect the law of diminishing returns. I've signed off forever.

The last man I met was last one. No, he wasn't the one. Just the last man I'll ever open my heart too. No, he didn't do anything. That's why. Maybe it's a symptom of Old Maid's disease. If so, so be it. Whatever the reason it doesn't matter. Neither do the facts and details of the story. In fact, the story is peripheral. Rather, the feelings determined my decision. Emotions are not logical. So it doesn't make sense. Emotions are real and I alone bear responsibility for feeling them.

The natural reaction I had to the last man was a surprise because they are not emotions common for me. That's my problem too. Not his. He made me feel this way: (1) safe as apart to my natural hypervigilance, (2) protected as opposed to my heightened senses 24/7, (3) inspired to tell him the truth and nothing but the truth without a sense of being forced, (4) comfortable rather than guarded, and (5) a feeling that a potential kindred spirit could evolve.

The bigger surprise was that it was him who evoked all this. Why? He didn't fit the profile of the kind of man whom I always thought would. Instead of the international Old World type who spoke at least two languages and had lived in many countries before the age of 18, he was a polar opposite. Instead of a cosmopolitan European man from London or Zurich raised in an old traditional culture, he was a native son Coto de Caza in Southern California. Unlike the tennis player I had envisioned he was more Judo than racket sports. I did wonder if Colin Farrell's twin picked the French Cafe to meet because he knew of my teenage rendez-vous avec le lange et culturelle francais? (Translation: fascination with French language and culture)

Appearance wise I had the very British James Purefoy from Maybe Baby in mind not a mixture of the All-American Jackson Hurst from Drop Dead Diva mixed with a 30-something version of Revenge's Josh Bowman with an American accent. The funny thing with emotions is that they defy logic and reality.

Long story short, I met and spent time with others who did match the description of the man I had expected. I met all the ones who fit the template. Somehow the sentiment didn't happen with them. It was supposed to. At least on an intellectual level the ones I met after Coto de Caza man should have sparked. Not.

I've met lots of people since I last was in communication with the last one. Gone on more formal dates that were planned and not impromptu so I could actually "doll up". Shared much more in common with others but the heart opening miracle didn't happen no matter how much I wanted it to. So numbers mean nothing and yet they mean everything.

The last time I felt that way it was an instant feeling. It happened with someone who fit the description of what I expected. He and I met in 2008 and it turned out to be very special. We just had to go our own way eventually. I moved to California and he remained out East. Much time had passed since then until Colin doppelganger of Coto de Caza unknowingly thawed out my rather frozen heart.

I have no idea if my mind was tricking me about Colin doppelganger's thawing effect. I've told myself that it was just my imagination playing around with me. All I know is that he made my heart feel that certain type of warmth and tenderness that isn't an every day experience. Whatever the case, I take full responsibility for how I felt even if it was all a mirage. I'm glad we met if just for that. To learn my heart did have an emotional pulse still and could skip a beat in a good way.

So why not stay around the digital dating sea and catch another connection?

That makes perfect sense but it just doesn't feel right anymore. Again, it's all on me, but opening my heart to the last man only to realize I deceived myself, hurt. Not the piercing kind of pain. More like how a flower about to bloom feels if it gets crushed to a powder when still a bulb. That is the state of my how my heart feels right now. I know it will heal.

Why won't there be another? It took alot for my heart to feel like that again that last time in October. For it to start to bloom, and by no one's fault except the way life goes sometimes, it was crushed so quickly afterwards.... it's an ability it and my soul no longer have. In a way it feels like the last circuits capable of fueling that kind of courage are light bulbs burned out. Those were my last supply. They can't be replaced anymore.

However I will give myself a happy ending. I'll write one for the outcome my heart wanted in a fiction tale. But he was the last one.

P.S. Ironically, the day after I published this post, I got a text message from a guy named Nick in San Diego. Nick is the Drew Brees look-a-like from Chula Vista that picked me up on Meetup when he saw my picture. Believing this article was about him after he read this post and another one on writer Heather Strang's book "The Quest"... Nick thought I was writing about him! No, nein, non. (English, German, and French)

Newsflash: There is only man who was able to open my heart after it felt frozen for years in the Canadian Arctic. He's Colin Farrell's doppelganger. So ... Bye bye bye Brees stand in. He, not you, was the last one.