Commitment Issues of Mine or how Alice fell...

     Today I realized that during my entire eventful 12 year old dating history, I have not been in the relationship without denying it, sabotaging it or badmouthing it even ONCE.

     Words like:” World, here is my boyfriend. Love him the way I do” – were never pronounced by me.  Those words would have been considered the blasphemy, the heavy stones into the fragile sand castle of my single well-being, the angry flames that would burn down my Mecca of Singlehood.

    My “unworthy” in my mind boyfriends, without ever being called or acknowledged as “boyfriends” while truly being them, were swiftly and hurriedly moved into the rapidly-growing category of “ex-boyfriends”.  And you ever been in that category you know how much fun that is - they were like this over-priced Swarovski  jewelry – thrown on the dusty discounted TJ Max sale shelf without even being given a chance to sparkle on the front counter of Macy’s.

Mea Culpa. Guilty as charged.

       Do not get me wrong. I was never a monster of the girlfriend. I never put cyanide in their coffee, I loved them, and I cared about them, nursed them through harsh colds and challenging issues, only in the deep secrecy from myself and the world.
        I always viewed myself as this satellite in the never-ending dating Universe – overwhelmed with freedom and importance of being just Olga. Just Olga and soon-to be ex-boyfriend. Unworthy of her love, threatening her being or wanting no part of it.
 
(My last ex-boyfriend enthusiastically coated our short-lived realtionship with so much dirt and shame that also did not help my commitment issues. Special thanks to him from the survivors of all the realtionships after him. Dating me after him was particularly fun).

     I embraced my fear of commitment, camouflaged it with a battledress of the Devoted Soldier of Dating, and got myself a fan club, alcohol, books and many other weapons I should not mention online.
If you are in the war, prepare to be killed and trust noone. Lovely strategy of women waging the war with themselves...

       My friends always considered my disease a “defense mechanism” (men are bastards, why would she commit?), my critics considered it immaturity (“One day when you grow up…), my mother considered it her very own accomplishment.
      Fear of commitment is this 21st century plague, with which you can be fashionably sick and understood by many. We are scared to take risks of trusting strangers; we thoroughly plan out retreats into the emotional independence from others, we get married after 30 or never get married.
 
     For instance, even committing to HIM electronically (taking down dating profiles, changing relationship statuses, etc.) feels just as dreadful and scary as was saying “I do “to our grandparents. I evolved to a new level of commitment disease – AFRAID OF JUST ABOUT ANYBODY WHO WANTS TO BE IN MY LIFE FOR LONGER THAN FIVE MINUTES.  And that’s why I have to commit to unknown – now or never.

    How it all happened to be.... One day I fell into somebody else’s Universe, the way Alice fell down the rabbit’s hole, and while falling took my time and looked around …Here I was rapidly flying into his world, strange to touch and taste, scary, populated with unknown words and unheard promises, but somewhat breathtakingly welcoming...
       I have no idea what happens when I land or how I land…I might crash. I might survive. I might take the bite of the magical cake with a white frosting and grow out of my commitment issues the way Alice grew out of her dress.

The Wonderland of relationship may turn out to be a grim minefield or green meadow with rabbits in waistcoats….who knows. 

But I am willing to take the risk and for once and be happy.
Believing in fairytales is only healthy.
After all.