Commitment Phobic

Hi. My name is Chantay. I love love, soft kisses, giggling, daydreaming, making love, and oh yeah, I fear making commitments. I wasn’t always this way. There have been a few Bigs (Sex and the City) in my life that I would have gladly jumped at the opportunity to wed. Therein lays my problem. I love a challenge, want the unobtainable, pursue the impossible, and hope for beautiful rainbows, unicorns, and colorful butterflies, and I protect my sense of freedom at all costs. “I say who! I say when! I say who!” – Vivian from Pretty Woman

I don’t naturally gravitate to men or things that come easily to me. I prefer to seduce and be seduced. I want my mind and curiosity fondled and fucked and eventually the same for my body. The Bigs in my life were quite adept at keeping me intrigued by matching and even surpassing me in my unscripted manner of giving a little and retreating a little, then back to giving. Our relationships were never labeled. We talked, laughed, had amazing sex, shared secrets and dinners, offered companionship, and sincerely cared for each other, but we were never exclusive even if the topics of marriage and babies came up. We had fun. If something better came along we were all free to go and pursue whatever tickled our fancies. No labels. No commitments. When I felt my feelings getting too involved and too attached, I removed myself from the non-relationships.

I want love, commitment, trust, mind blowing sex, companionship, and fun. I want all of that in a marriage, but in the mean time I want to be committed only to flights of fancy. That’s what I told myself. In walks him, the perfect yang to my yin. He came in and challenged me on everything I profess to be. I say I’m free spirited. He wants me to travel the world with him and eventually retire in South Africa. I say I don’t stay mad long, never want to go to bed mad, and would prefer the same from a partner. I became the one that shut him out because I was upset over a misunderstanding, and it was him finding numerous ways to reach out to me to solve the matter because he didn’t want me to go to bed mad. I say I love hard and completely. He says love is a choice one makes and decided to love me almost immediately, but patiently waited for my love in return. I say I am nonjudgmental and open-minded. He divulged parts of his sexual past with me that no other man would dare be so candid and honest about, forcing me to reevaluate my relationship deal breakers. I say I want a man that’s always aware of me. He’s so aware of me he senses my moods while being oceans and continents away and picks up on my subtle changes of habit. I tried to find anything to be wrong with him so he would go away and leave me to my cherished freedom. Every time I became lost in my mind and looking for a way out because I was starting to feel as though the demon of commitment was causing me to hyperventilate, he would always, as if on cue, find a sweet effortless way to woo me back to him. I suppose being single for years after a broken marriage can have you running away from the very things you seek the most.

Unlike the Bigs in my life, he sees past the sexpot enigma and free spirited nature of me and into the deepest hidden parts of me. He knows my fears, my bad habits, and hang-ups. He even loves the fact I have a real potty mouth and likes when I swear at him. Yeah, he’s a sick man. Slowly and consistently he’s making me see commitment as less of a restriction, and more of a freedom to totally be my whole self in the presence of another that totally adores and embraces my quirks. He’s totally down for love, commitment, trust, mind blowing sex, companionship, and fun, but he also has an idea of how he wants my wedding ring to look. I suppose that would serve as a Dear John letter to the former Bigs in my life. I was made for loving. He’s tapping into my reservoir of it.