Now, I've been with my girlfriend for six years, of which we've pretty much lived together for four. We're as close to being married as makes no difference. So, when something occurs like this, it's a little odd at first. If you have a long-term significant other, or even a best friend whom you typically rely on for doing things, a sort of social safety net is formed. If you don't feel like going out partying, you can simply stay in with that person. Even if you're not doing anything, that person is there to do nothing with. While this is a great comfort (and something that's glaringly missing when that person is absent) it's also a crutch in a way.
Staying in Germany, my girlfriend did a ton of things that she had never done before. Part of that was because, hey, it was a vacation in a foreign country, on a different continent. You expand your horizons in those types of situations regardless of who you're with, simply as an extension of the culture and the circumstances being so far beyond what you're used to. But, I think it was also nurtured by my absence. Not to say that she had any more or less fun than if I would have been there, and that's definitely not to say that it she was glad I wasn't there. It's merely saying that, had I been there, there probably would have been a few opportunities or activities that we would have passed on, simply because we had the other one there to justify not doing those things. It's being anti-social disguised as being in a relationship.
This was neatly mirrored this past weekend, as I went off to Pitchfork Music Festival, VIP pass in hand, by myself. I knew a few people from my time there, mostly people on staff, and a few of the contributers. I also had a few friends going to the festival, but they had general admission tickets, they wanted to see different bands than I did, and they wanted to camp out in front of stages to get better spots. Because I didn't have those same issues or priorities, it meant that we would be disconnected throughout the entirety of the festival.
The benefit of this, I discovered, was exactly the same as the benefits my girlfriend enjoyed while in Germany. Because I had no social safety net to catch me, I had to put myself out there into situations that I wasn't entirely comfortable with. Introducing myself to people I didn't know, finding common ground with people I had just met. Moving out of my comfort zone not so much out of desire as out of necessity.
I met some rather terrific people at Pitchfork this weekend. This isn't to say I wouldn't have met them or spoke with them if my girlfriend hadn't been there, but because she wasn't I had to meet them. It's a subtle, yet distinct, difference.
Really what this gets to is the idea of the courage necessary behind new experiences, which is sometimes courage in form, but more often is just a mindset adjustment. Both myself and my girlfriend were de facto forced into these new experiences because we had nothing to fall back on. And, at least in my case, I think there was a little guilt in having that much fun without her.
There's an ease to old experiences. Sometimes we confuse that for being boring, or being a hindrance, but it's only that way if we allow it to be. By being forced into new experiences, I think both myself and my girlfriend-- instead of viewing the other being around as an impediment to new situations-- found a way to draw ourselves in to new experiences regardless of the context.
That, in itself, is actually a more powerful tool than actually being able to find those new experiences on your own. It's a blend of the old and the new, a sort of social alchemy (which yes is too epic a term for this sort of every day occurrence but whatever) that's necessary to moving forward.
Or, in short, "Hey, I made myself talk to people! Yay!"
No comments:
Post a Comment