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Crash & Burn: Where did the Dude Go?
By Lisa Steadman, AKA The Relationship Journalist™
 Ah, the beginning of a relationship. The butterflies, intoxicating kisses, deliciously decadent dates. I love The Beginning. It's so inspiring. Makes you feel invincible, like you can accomplish anything. It's a great time to tap into one's creativity but who has time, what with all the kissing, cooing, canoodling? And quite frankly, who cares? It's all I can do to tear myself away from my other half. And I consider myself an independent woman.
And then, just as you think you're reaching the chewy caramel center - known as The Middle - that fabulous time when things cool down into a comfortable couch potato nirvana, it's over. No phone call, no email, no nothing. Suddenly that perfect partner disappears, quickly becoming The Stranger. And you're left wondering, What the hell?
Unlike magicians, whom you expect a disappearing act from and even relish the idea of seeing it happen before your very eyes, this exodus comes as a complete surprise. And an unwelcome one at that. Suddenly, the self doubt sets in. The re-evaluation of every moment of every day you spent together. The self-blame. You know the drill. Inevitably, THE QUESTION begins burning a hole in your brain – What did I do wrong?
And of course an answer never surfaces. We could go round and round on THAT merry-go-round forever. Having witnessed the disappearing act myself and, admittedly, having been The One to disappear on occasion, I can tell you this. Ultimately? It's not you, it's them.
Now don't shoot the messenger. Listen to the message.
In my experience, when I've been the one pulling the disappearing act, it's been because of where I was in my own life. Whether I was still getting over someone else and didn't have the heart to tell the new guy, or just not in a place where couplehood felt right, it had nothing to do with the person I was with. In retrospect, I've ditched a couple really nice guys.
And when I've been the one left holding the white rabbit? After I get over secretly hoping they're dead in the street somewhere, I accept a few facts.
1. They weren't right for me.
2. Eventually, they'll be right for someone else
3. I may bump into my magician and his new Ms. Right at the most in-opportune time. When I haven't showered, when I'm just running to the grocery store for Robitussin and chicken noodle soup, when I've just been dumped by someone else who wasn't right for me.
4. I will get over it.
5. It's not me. It's them.
It takes a lot of strength to accept these facts. To not crumble under the pressure of the what if's and why me's. But you know what? The other fact that takes all the pressure off, if we're willing to see it and accept it, is that sooner or later, someone better will come along. Someone better suited for us. Someone capable of sticking with us through the delicious Beginning, into the comfy caramel center known as The Middle, and definitely someone who doesn't see The End in sight.
In the meantime, it's okay to hope that those disappearing acts are dead in the gutter, abducted by aliens, relocated in the Witness Protection Program. Heck yeah. Whatever gets you through the day.
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