Facing Another Type of Fear

I usually pride myself on being relatively fearless. Years ago, I read the book "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway" and it was the beginning of a quest for me. I was determined to not let fear get in the way of doing things that I wanted to do. Experiencing things that I wanted to experience. And in general, I have accomplished just that.

This week I was reminded of a fear that has remained with me. It's dormant most of the time, but it's definitely there.

Earlier this week, a client of mine came into work discussing her first date of the night before. She's an attractive, 30 year old woman, that secretly longs to meet the man of her dreams, get married and have a family. She was absolutely glowing. She was gushing about the sheer perfection of the evening. She was happily sharing her joy with me, the implication of hope that it was the beginning of something truly beautiful. She asked the questions "When do you think he'll call? Do you think I'll see him this weekend?"

As I pretended to share her excitement, her hope, the thrill of those early moments, I became aware of a surprising feeling. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach.

When I shared this story with a couple friends, their reaction was "Oh- were you feeling like she was going to get hurt and disappointed?" My response was "I guess so."

But upon further reflection I realized that wasn't it at all. I wasn't feeling pessimistic for her at all. Perhaps it will have some sort of a fairy tale ending. That would be absolutely fantastic.

I realized that I was putting myself in her shoes. I was imagining what it would be like to feel that again. That crazy, uncontrollable, irrational, desire for someone. That lightning-strikes, adrenaline rush, that's a little bit lust, and a little bit crush. The infatuation that you hope deepens into love.

And I realized I didn't want to feel that again. In fact, the thought of feeling that again scared the living daylights out of me. So much so that I was physically ill.

Around three years ago, I met a man, Keith, at a party. I had that immediate reaction to him. He appeared to have the same reaction to me. Even though we had just met, even though there were crowds of people there, we were constantly aware of each other. I mingled with other people, knowing Keith would come back to talk to me again and again. And he did. He would go off and talk to other party-goers, then return to me and speak to me in a lowered, almost intimate voice.

We kissed. Several times. Only our lips touched. Nothing else. It was one of the most erotically charged moments I can remember.

We spent the entire night together, until dawn, talking and kissing. That's it. And the entire night I was telling myself- "Just enjoy this feeling at the moment, because you can never see this man again."

And I didn't.

He called. Emailed. Several times. For years afterward. But I never saw him again, and he never really tried that hard to see me again. He lives about three minutes from my house.

I was afraid of him, how he made me feel, who he seemed to be. So I played it safe and stayed away.

So this week, after hearing the story of a magical first date, I made a decision. I'm going to have that again. In fact, I have this strange feeling that it's coming my way very soon. And I am bracing myself, greeting the opportunity with open arms and open heart.

Bring it on.