After I’d stumbled my way into dating (and then dumping) a hotel owner because I wanted to learn salsa, ♏ asked me, incredulous, “How do people like you even exist? You function on like… cartoon logic. And it works?”
For some reason, I recall a conversation I had about ‘showing your hand’ in a relationship. I found it an adversarial way to think about interactions. Vulgar, gauche. And yet… this is me not showing my hand, I think. I cultivate this image of being a silly girl without a care in the world, no responsibilities, no consequences. I’m a drifting teapot, I tell people. I go where the tides take me. I follow my heart. And this is mostly true.
But on some fundamental level I know what I like. I like accepting people for who they are. I like supporting people in all their decisions, good or bad. I like having relationships which are fair, where people can be exactly how they are.
What makes a good partner? I hate assigning value to people based on what they can do for me. My approach, insane to some, is ultimately a rebellion against the relationship market. I reject the things people look for to build a life with someone. Instead I build my own life and sublimate the traits. The markers of attraction become the ability to play the piano, how messy their hair is, how many crazy stories they have to tell.
What does it mean though? There are so many variables and I, the drifting teapot, try to swim to the nexus. I want someone accomplished, obsessive, who doesn’t care about what people think of him, a poet who takes risks. What I’m looking for are blueprints for my next life. Trying to decide how I want to be reborn.