Best Man

I'm not actually thinking of the wedding wingman for the groom-to-be... I'm thinking more along the lines of wanting to be a better man. ("30 Days to a Better Man" temporarily put on hold here... Hmmmmfph!) But I have been ruminating in this topic of love inspiring us to be the best possible version of ourselves. I obsessively read Plato's Symposium for years while in college, featuring one of the humankind's best dialogues on the subject of love. For years, I toted around a weathered, musty paperback translation of the work.

Mostly, we want to be better ourselves in order to woo our beloveds, but also in part, we want to be good enough simply for our own sake of pride, with maybe even with a dash of vanity thrown in for good measure.

So – how do we know if we are good enough? What qualifications do we have to suggest that we are good at any one facet of our lives? How do we quantify the goodness, if say, we are great at being a salesman, but totally suck as being a husband? Does being good at something transcend beyond the areas that are still in need of some refining? Or does being bad at one or more facets trump the goodness, and pull our benevolence card?

I have no fucking clue! But... I do know that I have been horrible in relationships, where I've been selfish, narcissistic, impatient, aggressive, bullheaded. The whole nine. But other than that (ha!), I consider myself a pretty good person; descent, generous, compassionate, gregarious even. So, do the not so great parts cancel out the other elements that fill me with a sense of pride and self-acceptance? In my heart ~ yes, they have canceled out the good.

While I was growing up, I was pretty much a fuck up. I was in honors classes, played music, was artistic and athletic, was relatively well-liked, but always on the verge of breaking down. I was *so close* to having it all, but it was all so fragile and crushable every time I started to succumb to the intense stress. (Which I might add was stress that I put on my own shoulders...)

I wanted to be the best, not just passable, not 'good enough,' but the best, at nearly everything I tried. Maybe I was lucky because certain things came somewhat easily to me. But the things that didn't felt like public crucifixions. Namely: my ability to manage my own life.

Upon reflection, I think I am good at inventing new systems, figuring out new approaches and even implementing them. Here's the kicker: I suck at maintenance. Relationships are all about maintenance. I can be great at picking out the perfect birthday presents, or reserving the ideal romantic getaway – but knowing how to be in the trenches day after day escaped me. The macro versus the micro. I'm not great with ongoing details. They kind of trip me up. The back and forth, the massaging of egos when toes have been stepped on... This is usually the part where I would spin out of control. It was no fun to be with me at these moments, and certainly no fun being me at these moments, either. The bruises to my pride were intolerable, where I lost a lot of respect for myself knowing that I acted in disgraceful ways. That's the worst: knowing I disappointed someone. Ooof!

When I look back, I see a lot of congruence from one relationship to the next in my romantic history. Many times that I did something, or said something I would later regret. Yet that alone didn't seem to be enough of deterrent to derail that course to Crazytown, USA, the next time around. I'd fuck up again and again. Okay, to be honest, a sliver of me kind of relished being the bad boy, the fuck up, with the huffy artistic temperament, but come on! That only goes so far. Then you're just a dick.

But around this time last year, something changed, and I no longer wanted to be complicit in my crash course of love. I wanted to be a better man. Not just okay, not good enough, but the best. And not even just the best possible version of myself, but I wanted to be the best possible partner available. Unfortunately, I forgot that self-improvement can sometimes be a slow process. It's great if you have an idea of the few things on your to do list that may transform you into some super human mystic, but for the rest of us, it requires a lot of trial and error. Emphasis on that latter part. When I had as much practice as I did at the error end of the spectrum, I was not prepared to embark on more of it.

I never thought I'd say this but: I'm glad that I got dumped. This last relationship I had inspired me to stop the cycles that clearly weren't working for me, and to implement newer skills that may change the tides. The sad part is that it was a matter of timing. Namely: bad timing, that this relationship was the impetus for change, but that I hadn't evolved fast enough to salvage it. I am learning now that it wasn't meant to be – back then. I wasn't ready. I wasn't even aware of all of the things that I needed to polish within myself. That relationship ending wasn't a failure, but a catalyst to step up and take responsibility for my life. My old excuses and defunct auto-pilot clearly wouldn't suffice any more.

No, it's not a joy to be single, but I'd rather be working on this shit alone, than being half assed in a relationship that deserved better. I needed to get dumped to see what I had to change. Maybe I sound too jaded here sometimes, as I go off on tangents about being a loner, and that kind of stuff... But the reality is: I'm pretty content. I am happy to see that maybe the best way to quantify how much I cared about someone was how much I wanted to work on myself. Like they inspired me to be the best possible version of myself, for both of our sakes'. It was a pretty incredible feeling, even though we aren't together anymore. And one that 'stuck' even after her departure. I want to be better, even the best – to be worthy – just because... Not to 'trick' someone into loving me, but to become the kind of person who would genuinely earn that affection and allegiance.

I think that is love.

And I think it was all worth it. It's nice to feel proud of myself again, knowing how hard I've worked to figure stuff out, and heal from the wounds I didn't know were still lingering.

I am a better man because of it. Who knew getting dumped would be the best thing that's ever happened to me? (Well, maybe not the best thing. My friend Caroline gave me a personalized autographed photo of Betty White. That was pretty great... But you know what I mean.)