Dancing On My Own

Last night I got to have a nice, long conversation with my boyfriend, filled with all the things I want out of a conversation with a boyfriend: comfort, joy, awareness, presence, understanding, brilliance, compassion, humor and of course, sexual chemistry across the miles.

Yep, we've got it all. And one of the things we talked about tonight was that I knew that, and part of me even knew that one day he'd be back.

I hoped. I hoped like hell. But I also tried to let go. And I managed to make room for the possibility that everything I knew in my heart and in my bones was wrong, but it was difficult to give that possibility much credence.

I didn't try very hard to find someone else, mostly because it felt disingenuous -- I didn't want anyone else. But every once in a while I'd pray that if I needed to be steered in another direction, I would be. And if that happened, it wouldn't mean settling. It would mean finding someone else who lit me up six ways to Sunday. (Hilarious tangent -- I just looked up that phrase to see if I was using it properly, and found this page, which gave this usage as an example: "I'd bang that girl six ways from Sunday she is vaginamite.") Yeah, that feeling. The one I had about him, and I knew he had about me. But I didn't meet anyone else in 3 plus years that hit a bullseye on every one of the things I want in a man.

On to today's song, which is on repeat both in my head and on my computer -- I cannot get enough of it. I feel like there are a couple of reasons it's resonating so hard today:

1) By sorta letting go but sorta holding on (because that's what my heart told me to do), I was in this painful in-between for much of the time we were apart. When we reunited, and my boyfriend described some takeaways from other relationships he'd had while we were apart, I felt what Calum so beautifully sings about here (much better than the original by Robyn if you ask me):

Somebody said you got a new friend
Does she love you better than I can
There's a big black sky over my town
I know where you're at I bet she's around
And yeah I know it's stupid
But I just gotta see it for myself

I'm in the corner watching you kiss her
Oh, oh, oh
And I'm right over here. Why can't you see me?
Oh, oh, oh
And I'm givin' it my all
But I'm not the guy you're taking home
Oh
I keep dancing on my own

I just wanna dance all night
I'm all messed up I'm so out of line
Stilettos and broken bottles
I'm spinning around in circles

And I'm in the corner watching you kiss her
Oh, oh, oh
And I'm right over here. Why can't you see me?
Oh, oh, oh
And I'm giving it my all
But I'm not the guy you're taking home
Oh
I keep dancing on my own
And oh, no no

So far away
But still so near
The lights come on
The music dies
But you don't see me standing here
I just came to say goodbye

And I'm in the corner watching you kiss her
Oh no
And I'm right over here. Why can't you see me?
Oh no
And I'm giving it my all
But I'm not the guy you're taking home
Ooh
I keep dancing on my own

So far away
But still so near
The lights come on
The music dies
But you don't see me standing here

I reckon a part of him saw, or at least felt, me (figuratively) standing there the whole time, but another part wouldn't let himself look. For fear of letting me down again, for fear of letting himself down again.

Not this time. Not letting the fear drive. Not now that we are both so clear about what we have to give and receive from each other...

2) The resonance for me of Calum's plaintive wail "I'm right over here, why can't you see me?" feels like it is really more  about my parents not being able to see me than it is about my boyfriend. Because the truth is, he was the first person to see all of me, since he helped heal and reveal so much of me, so I knew he could see me. He just didn't want to look. Until he was ready. Which of course was incredibly painful, but not nearly as painful as never being seen in one's wholeness at all...