Fickle

It seems that I am.

I've never thought of myself in that way before. I am true blue, predictable, stick-in-the-mud, never varying Samantha. Except recently, I'm not.

I asked Therapist about this because I was sort of alarmed by it. He laughed. Although I do not hate him, I might never be in love with him again.

Here's how this works:

In the past, my heart has chosen certain people who belong in my life. They don't really get to decide if they like this or not and neither do I. It just happens. I fall in love. Of course, this happens on a regular basis, and sometimes I fall out of love, but that's rare and usually takes a long time. Occasionally, the person I fall in love with also loves me back and we become fast friends. This is a good thing.

Because I am human, I also choose favorites. It's no secret that there are a few people who talk with me frequently and with whom I spend time whenever I can. I unabashedly ask to sleep on their couches when I visit (although I often try to make up for my lack of manners by cooking dinner and helping with housework when I'm there). I have no qualms about stealing them from airports and not delivering them to their families, but instead, forcing them to spend the entire day with me (because it's my car and it goes wherever I drive it). I've been known to simply assume I have standing lunch dates with certain people. I feel no guilt about dropping by someone's home unexpectedly simply because I want to see them. In short--if you become one of my favorite people, I lose all sense of social decorum and treat you like family.

Among those people, however, I have found myself feeling drawn to one more than another. I would name that person, but this is where the "fickle" enters the stage. Recently (as in, during the past month and continuing to the present day), that person is whomever spends time with me. Ambrosia was my favorite person for at least a day, because she emailed me and said she wanted a phone call--huge points for her. And then she actually did call and she allowed me to gossip in the most wicked way, about her neighbor who abstains from vaccinating her children, and when they contract pertussis, she shares that delight with everyone at church, and continues her generosity in playgroup...

However, AtP dethroned Ambrosia the next day because he caught me at work and wanted to chat. And because I really did not want to work that day, I was happy to waste time instead.

A few hours later AtP was replaced by Tolkien Boy because I had a bee in my bonnet about a comment made on my podcast and I texted him to see if I could run my reply past him before I published it...and although he didn't reply right away (leaving me to contact the blog administrator instead--who became my favorite person briefly even though I've never met him), he called me later and allowed me to spout about people who don't know what they're talking about and who pretend they actually listened to my incredibly long interview (seriously, who has that kind of time?), but who clearly did not since everything he wrote is inane and has no relevance to what was discussed in the interview in the first place.

And then Jason made his move...

Jason and I have marathon conversations. We talk about every topic in the world and then we create new ones. Naturally, we spend time disagreeing and arguing and follow up by reminding each other that we are, indeed, the most intelligent, amazing people ever born and all of the earth is blessed by our presence. And then we laugh hysterically. Anyone previously in the "favorite" spot is automatically usurped when I'm having a three-hour long phone call with Jason. We don't stop talking until the wee hours of morning when we have no idea what the topic of conversation is and we're both dropping off mid-sentence.

So...somewhat alarmed at my inability to maintain some semblance of hierarchy among my friends, I chatted with Therapist. I thought he might have a few answers as to why I've recently become so disloyal.

He didn't. Instead he told me (in capital letters, naturally) that he thought the whole situation was HILARIOUS, and wasn't I lucky I had SO MANY PEOPLE to circulate through my "favorite" spot. I said it was NOT funny (one must communicate in CAPS when Therapist is talking online), and I needed answers.

So Therapist provided me with a most unsatisfactory answer: I have PTSD.

Duh.

Oh, sorry. DUH!

Therapist elaborated. He believes that right now my emotions vacillate wildly because of the upheaval I have recently experienced. He further thinks that because I rebel against the idea that I need ANYONE (his caps, not mine), I allow my focus to move from person to person as they interact with me. Also, because I care deeply for all involved parties, I feel intense affection when they make an effort to spend time with me online, in person, or on the phone. He also believes the traitorous feelings will abate in a few weeks and I'll figure out which person I love best. Then he said he was kidding--what will really happen is that I'll have fairly level feelings, interspersed by moments of tenderness, for each person I care about, which is a perfectly acceptable emotional state of being in reference to close relationships with people.

Then Therapist said, "I think it's probably high time you experienced being fickle. I also have to mention that, in true Samantha style, you're doing it with people who have been in your life for a long time, are unlikely to leave, and who understand the motivation behind your unpredictable emotions. Basically, you picked a safe place in which to EXPERIMENT--which is something you do frequently, even if it's a subconscious impulse."

I have to add, the reason I'm unhappy with Therapist has nothing to do with his very logical assessment of the situation, but rather because he laughed at me. He was not laughing at the ridiculous situation, but rather, he thought it was funny that I was alarmed by it. I don't consider this an empathetic, nor therapeutic reaction (although, I have to admit, I don't even know if "therapeutic reaction" exists because I just made that up).

In the meantime, if you're feeling like you'd like to be my best friend for awhile, just catch me on the phone, chat with me, or maybe leave a comment here. For at least five minutes we'll be bonded for life...

Yeah. I know. That last paragraph makes no sense at all. Welcome to my fickle life. GAH!!