when your ears hallucinate

Thanks for all the supportive comments after my last post. I've often toyed with the idea of writing a memoir based in no small part on your suggestions to do just that after reading a post you liked. It's something that remains a goal of mine. In the meantime, I'm trying to take things day by day.

This most recent breakup came after a seven month relationship. I fell in love. He was my friend first, then boyfriend-elect and subsequently took office. The relationship was great in the beginning although I tried my best to sabotage things by being neurotic, needy and paranoid in equal measure at alternating intervals. He wasn't a quitter but called me out every time the annoying behavior surfaced. At first I was grateful for his no-nonsense approach but after a while his hard ass attitude began to grate.

We fought often about inconsequential matters. Fights that would escalate into huge standoffs like the one with him railing in defense of corporate America's right to bonuses and me standing my ground because I didn't want to be bullied. It became exhausting and when we were too tired to fight about the inconsequential, we fought about why we couldn't get along. But throughout I convinced myself that they were just growing pains. Two strong-willed people navigating the space in their relationship, asserting their needs and establishing where they stood. It. Was. Exhausting. Soon the lows began to outweigh the highs and before we knew it, we were standing on the precipice of failure, staring down at the deep divide we had carved between us and waved a white flag.

He is such a strong man, full of deep convictions and steadfast values. A principled person who honestly feels that if you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything. But what he wasn't or couldn't be for me was a soft place to fall. So I'm left picking up the pieces and trying, with marginal success, not to beat myself up for yet another failed relationship. Sometimes I'm determined to ride out this storm and emerge victorious by harnessing my self-reliance and self love to propel me through. Other times, I'm so fearful of my 40th birthday, which seems frighteningly close even though it's still a good 18 months away, that I think I start hearing things.

Every cell in my body screams that I need to time to recover but it's the clock itself that tortures me with its deafening movement. Saturday I forced myself to attend a birthday dinner for a good friend of mine. Seated across from me was a young attorney for Google. On more than one occasion, I thought I heard him identify himself as Muslim even though there was no telltale signs that could confirm this. I mean he was VIETNAMESE for God's sake. First during the appetizers, I could have sworn I heard him say Vietnamese Muslim. And as my internal wikipedia scrambled to see if this was possible, the conversation turned to summer plans.

"I may be attending the ISNA conference in July," I announced as my dining companions looked at me quizzically.
"What's that?" asked Isaac, the guest of honor.
"Islamic Association of North America. they're having their annual convention in Chicago 4th of July weekend," I explained.
"Should I go?" asked the Google attorney.

My heart leaped. Could it be? How could it be? Is this my future husband? What are the chances? Well I'm not really ready to date yet but we could take it slow. The language barrier with his Vietnamese family would be a challenge but at least both of us are Muslim.
"What did you say?" I ventured, buying time to process this surprising new detail.
"I said," he said,"'In Chicago'?"
"Oh," I said deflated. Then I laughed out loud and explained what I thought I heard. We all had a good laugh. At my expense, in more ways than one.

Premature Rebound Encounters Compassionate Stranger

"Match.com, how may I help you?" said the bubbly customer service rep at the most popular dating website in the world.
"Hi, I reactivated my membership last night and I'd like to cancel it," I said. "It's been less than 24 hours and the website said I had 72 hours to cancel."
"OK, may I ask why you're canceling?" the rep asked.
"I, I met my boyfriend, my ex-boyfriend 8 months ago on match and we just broke up and I'm just not ready," I stammered uncharacteristically as my voice caught.
"Are you crying?"
"No," I lied.
"Oh my God, I wish I could give you a hug right now," the rep said and although this might sound a bit disingenuous coming from a disembodied voice in whatever call center she was based, at the moment, it wasn't unwelcome. I was mortified that I was actually crying as I was canceling an online dating membership. I mean who does that? And what about this rep? She didn't know me from Eve. I could have been some delusional freak who was bawling because Brad hadn't left Angelina for me yet.
When I recounted this lowpoint, my girlfriends asked, "Did she offer you a discount for when you are ready?" I mean really. Can't we just appreciate a stranger's compassion?