fancy myself a connoisseur of unavailable men. There’s a lot to be said for them. Unavailable men allow me to project all sorts of cool patterns upon them without fear of actually getting into the reality thing. Unavailable men are great receptacles for high passion and drama, without demanding too much vulnerability of my own in the process. I can try out all sorts of things with them because I know I’ll never have to truly mean it.
Unavailability takes all sorts of shapes. Marriage or other serious commitment is kind of an impediment to availability (sometimes even when he’s married to you). Geography can pose a problem – or enhance and prolong excitement, depending on how fast you can type, how good you are at phone sex and how many minutes you have on your cell phone plan.
Emotional unavailability is really my specialty. It’s insidious and sneaky and I can get sucked in deep before I realize I’ve hit a wall. Hitting that wall of emotional distance is like finding out that the other person actually lives in Antarctica. And, as it turns out, he is not at all interested in moving.
But I love him, so I figure I can join him in his frozen wasteland. I go to great lengths to find the perfect emotional mukluks that will enable me to join him in his territory – only to find out (once I’ve moved) that he actually lives in Brazil. I then chase him around the emotional globe, never finding myself in the same place that he is ever again.