Apparently there's a trend now to talk about relationships that never came to full fruition or that never achieved something or other as "fake." Maybe it would be better to call it the "almost-relationship?" Isn't it a little callous, a little sad to talk about ourselves as utterly detached as "fake" implies? It's all so black and white, all or nothing apparently--a dichotomy of being. But when you're in it, (it being a new something with someone,) you're in a sea of gray, of getting to know, of possible becoming. We live in a reality of almosts. Of possibles. Of maybes. There are no signed contracts or even verbal agreements of belonging and expectation. No strict social rules regulating our conduct. All you can do is swim through a sea of uncertainty and hope to come out alive? Thriving if you're lucky but often a little bit broken, jaded, sad. There used to be calling cards, agreements between families to even say hello and now there is very little that regulates relationship. If you're lucky, they're a good person who will at least try to be honest with you whether it's "working out" towards the desired societal outcome of unified baby-making or unified consensual bliss til rigor mortis do you part (or whatever your shared ideal is) or not. If you're lucky, their own values regulate them to be decent, to be kind, to think of your feelings, to take the time to talk things out. It's a brutal time to date. It can be lovely but it can be totally horrible. An oscillation of all the unknown heart and hormonal strings with very little understanding of where it's all going. Find your own road and pave it in yellow and hope, hope, hope to find the wizard.
