I don’t write a lot about my relationships. In truth, I haven’t had that many serious ones in the first place. But when I do, I prefer to let them season a bit before I open the kimono, so to speak. However, this latest one that just ended left me with a lot of thoughts about my journey. These same thoughts might resonate with my followers. I hope you enjoy it.
Seven Years of European Lessons in Love
Over the course of these last seven years in Europe, I’ve had a lot of hits and misses with relationships. Well, to put it more simply, I’ve had a lot of lovers, but not a lot of real connections. If someone asked me to count the people or the countries where I dabbled, I’d struggle to find the right number. I’ve had a lot of experience with Google Translate, and my translation history is best left wiped.
My experiences have covered the full spectrum of modern romantic complications. Many were emotionally unavailable (“it’s not you, it’s me”). Others were still stumbling through spectacular midlife crises disguised as self-discovery. A few were geographically challenged. And then there were the truly unavailable ones: married, with children and a spouse waiting for them at home.
These last few weeks I’ve been licking the wounds from the latest breakup and finding myself reflecting on the patterns we fall into as we age and how our optimism erodes with each passing year. A conversation with a good friend recently triggered this reflection. He said, “At my age, I am not looking for anything permanent. My dating pool is plenty to keep me busy, and I’m really happy being alone.”
I had to question myself, “Why am I not really happy being alone?” I mean, I had more than enough social connections, sexual exploits, and travel opportunities to keep me busy. Why did I need to feel personally connected and emotionally invested in someone romantically? I had spent years pursuing it with such intensity that I never stopped to ask whether the chase itself had become part of the problem.
When Dating Turns Into a Bounty Hunt
I think a lot about what will happen when my romantic market value starts trading lower on the European exchange, and I’m no longer able to play the long game. I know there may come a point when I regret not building a life with someone again.
After taking inventory following this latest miss, I realized I’ve spent the better part of seven years searching for Husband/Companion 2.0 while never fully surrendering to my European life. I trust the Universe to manage most things, but relationships? There, I’ve behaved less like a peaceful participant and more like a heat-seeking missile with attachment issues and Ferragamo shoes.
Maybe this latest breakup arrived for a reason. It forced me to reconsider not only what I want, but how tightly I’ve tried to control its arrival. As gentle as I seem on the outside, there is an inner bounty hunter in me still chasing relationships.
When Life Becomes the Background Instead of the Story
The wonder and incredible beauty of Italy and Europe were happening all around me. I was enjoying it, admiring it, and writing stories about it. But somehow, it shifted from being the main story of my life to the backdrop for my search for love.
I would like to surrender the bounty on the head of some unsuspecting soul and just let things happen. Even at 55, I know it’s not too late. I can’t give up on the intention and I can’t become cynical. Whoever is destined for me will not pass me by, right? I just hope I can recognize him when he arrives, and not work so hard at it or compromise so much that I lose a part of myself in the process.
My life is already happening now, not five pounds lighter, not ten years younger, not finally partnered. There is no imaginary emotional boundary to cross, and there’s no expiration date on fully living until we’re really dead. It’s now.
Maybe the deeper issue is that I never truly believed love would arrive unless I assisted the Universe with excessive planning, emotional over-functioning, and the occasional international flight to a faraway destination. Trust me, there’s a difference between being open to love and treating every promising encounter like a final boarding call.
A New Commitment
For the first time in years, I’m beginning to wonder if the right relationship won’t arrive through pursuit at all, but through finally becoming still enough to recognize it when it arrives.
This is what I mean by staying open to love after a breakup. It’s learning to remain receptive without chasing.
So my commitment to myself this summer is simple: to participate more fully in my own life while continuing to observe all that surrounds me. I want to stop treating love and relationships as the destination and allow them instead to become part of the journey.
And as summer arrives in Italy, with the beaches opening and my entire family gathering here for the first time ever in June, I’m reminded that life is happening. It doesn’t need my direction. It just requires my participation.
I hope you found this latest entry interesting, and perhaps even relevant. Perhaps some of you are just like me, trying to navigate a single life at middle age. I am doing okay after the breakup, and each day gets a little better. I’m shifting my thinking away from finding that special person and instead finding this special life.
As always, if there’s someone you think will benefit from my writings, please feel free to share my posting on your social accounts. You can also subscribe below, if you’re not already receiving my blogs in your email. Best wishes for an amazing summer and lots of love to you.