I have fallen into the classic New York relationship – the kind half the singles in this city are having. It’s called “just casual enough.”
It’s the relationship in which nothing heavy is ever said, the future is never discussed, and plans are kept to a minimum – as are emotions, affection and neediness.
We have no complications, just a good time.
But I’m torn. Sometimes I think this suits my life perfectly. Other times I wonder if it’s turning me into a cold-hearted witch.
My “just casual enough” relationship started back in January with a blind-date fix-up. And at first I barely noticed I was having it.
I met the guy – a 30-year-old economics post-grad – for a drink. I found him sexy, well traveled and clever; we got drunk and argued about politics until five in the morning.
We parted with the feeling that we’d like to meet again. I figured at some point he’d call, and was pleased when he did.
Three weeks later, we got around to a second date. We went to a party, and the following day met for burgers. Again it seemed we’d like to hang out more, even though both of us made it clear we were very happy being single.
Then one Friday we went dancing at Cielo and ended up kissing like a couple of teenagers on the dance floor – and I went back to his place.
But in the morning I took off early, not wanting to give the impression that my staying over had upped the ante. In my mind, it hadn’t.
That was three months ago and we’ve been seeing each other since – although if anyone asked either of us if were “seeing anyone,” we’d still likely say no. We still call ourselves single.
I call him if I have a free night, or want a movie companion or a date for a party. He does the same. We’re even planning a camping trip. We’re always pleased to hang out.
He goes on dates with other girls and I’ve given my number to other guys. I’ve told him I don’t care what he does when I’m not with him. And I don’t.
Sound perfect?
Just freedom and fun.
Here’s the dilemma.
As a typical New Yorker, who is obsessive about not being tied down and eternally poised for that mystery around the corner, my “just casual enough” relationship is surely ideal. But something nags me that carrying on in this way is ultimately a soulless waste of time – and is making me soulless along with it.
Although it’s normal for this city, is it really normal to spend a lot of intimate time with someone without it being, well, intimate?
Isn’t it strange to share your thoughts and evenings with someone with whom you don’t want to share your heart?
Isn’t the real pleasure in being with someone to desire to give yourself to him?
I know that under the right circumstances this guy has the capacity to be a great boyfriend, and I can be a great girlfriend (well sometimes, anyway).
And deep down I suspect we are actually missing out on the best of each other.
And yet, we don’t want it. He recently moved to the city and doesn’t want to be tied down. I don’t want to feel any commitment to anyone unless they blow me away.
I still feel wonderfully liberated knowing I can ring him up at a moment’s notice to come out with me, and that we can both leap out of bed not worrying about having to explain how we’ll be spending our week.
But does this mean I’ve simply got the New York attitude that this setup is enough?
Back home in London, people often ask me why there are so many single people in this city. Perhaps this is the answer.
We train ourselves so brilliantly with non-committal arrangements that we become incapable of anything else.