Why Are You Single?
Insanely, I’ve written several books on relationships and taught hundreds of workshops and even have a TV show where I delve into relationships and finding love, etc..
I could give you all the icing layer stuff about why I date but am not married, and have no interest in marriage. I could tell you all of the information and statistics about men, women and men with both, as I have been. I could also layer in my parents—-all 7–8 of them and childhood drama and trauma. But as I’ve dated in the past, loved a lot, and continue to seriously date now and enjoy relationships, I can tell you a savage truth:
I don’t want to give up my energy or attention, right now, to another person.
A few years ago I spent several years at my mother’s bedside outside of NY but before that I spent a decade worried and terrified at every long distance phone call being about rushing to her bedside or her being dead. Then it happened and it wasn’t so bad. I’ve had lots of other relatives die and I have good, solid personal spiritual beliefs and most of my mentors, older folk, have died in the past 15 years. I’m cool with death, loss, change. What this did though was help me see that she was the last person I felt a deep obligation to, that suddenly, for the first time in my life I was free. I wasn’t eager for her to die, saddened by her self-destructiveness but sitting with her, asking and sorting through all the big questions, I realized I’d parented myself for years. That this was a shifting, a transition and not a loss. She’d thrown herself into yet another lopsided relationship and then decided not to take care of herself so I watched him panic over the loss of her. He’d taken the bullet for me of my last parent’s form of self destructiveness. Even in his pettiness and lashing out I realized it was because I’d let them have each other.
But in that shifting, in many ways, they’d not lost me but I restricted unhealthy access. I’d built my own sustenance, my own life, my own universe without them. Then I did a couple of years of Herculean lifting and she died and he faded away and I was relieved.
I had friends and mentees/students who really helped during this several year process but once the death happened, because it wasn’t a devastating depression or guilt, it was like a fog cleared. And when the fog cleared, I saw the various friends and students (adults) for who and what they were. I saw my deep contributions to them that always wasn’t returned or acknowledged or even respected. It was like my mother was this flashlight that as I held the specter of her death in my eye, I turned and looked, and a light shone cleanly on other people.
Before she died, to move back here, after throwing my stepfather out of the house, I had to pack up the house to move to NYC---it took about 6 weeks. Packing and editing as if she/he were already dead. But I did it room by room, closet by closet until it was all in the same sized truck I’d arrived in and we were off. We moved on and then she died and I was relieved and those around me were exposed.
Boom, boom, boom, boom.
I spent all my time there writing, I’d published several books six months before arriving so I had something to consistently do while there. In retrospect, I’m amazed at how much I got done.
It was a routine of tend to her, go to work, go write. Really nothing else. Be present and my Art. And then there were times when I realized I’d carry my Art after her and I poured myself into it, thought about it, experimented. The day she died at 8am, I went to sleep for a few hours then by midnight was up finishing a manuscript.
She---they---family---were like a book that was finally finished being read and written, experienced. But they were also like a symphony playing over another song and as the symphony petered out, my song, clear and light and fun and strong, could still be heard. I like my song. It makes me happy, it makes me feel good. It is good. It’s not broken or traumatized or mad or sad. It’s my song.
I want to focus exclusively on my Art as a primary outlet until I have children, then I’ll shift that focus. But in the context of a relationship—I don’t want to get married. I never have—-people mistake my affection and generosity and attention for some deep agenda. I can love and focus on myself, two handed. I can have affairs, treat you well and adoringly, and then as it ends, move on.
See, I visit this world. I have other worlds that I don’t think I’ve ever completely had anyone else visit with me—one can’t—it’s my world of reading and writing and creativity and dreams and ideas and thoughts and learning—it’s not wholly shareable. And that’s okay. Back to when I was a teenager and pressing my bestie/boyfriend to the clubs I was in in high school, to the college extension program, to sharing what interested me; to university and its publishing projects; to corporate world and its jobs----I’ve always shared my bounty—attempted to with partners.
I’m no longer interested in doing that. I used to think if I had bread, I had to give you some---now I think “Oh, I have bread. You need to get to baking, there are recipes over there.”
There was this one guy, I even got him a job as a teacher, who we were chatting it up one night in the back seat of a friends’ car after dinner and the sparks were flying and we exchanged numbers and I texted him to go out to dinner. And he sort of petered out. I was okay—-always know until I have a direct conversation using the words—-Commitment, Continuity and Monogamy and the designs we agree upon—I am dating others.
If I don’t have that specific discussion with you, I am dating others.
Folk get confused about this.
Anyway, this possible attractive guy then tells our friend in common that he was concerned about my getting too emotionally involved with him while he was just sexually attracted to me.
How To Clearly Say This, Like On A Date?
Look, here’s another thing folk don’t understand about me: I’ve had more lovers (safely, safe sex always) than you can count on a full subway train car—maybe two or three cars.
I’ve had fun. I’ve answered all of my questions. But also I’ve learned to not compartmentalize but enjoy folk for what they are and move on. Dating and fucking is not how I fall in love—-it’s like the difference between going on vacation and going home.
And honestly, dating and fucking has never lead to love for me, I can separate the two. In fact, you might not be the only entree I’m sampling that week. I’m one of those people who aren’t French but completely appreciate a nice French affair.
I also resent the question: Where were you?
Not because I resent the concern or caring inherent to it but because above all else I appreciate and strive to deepen and expand my freedom. That’s my most important personal ideal. So if you come across those borders—I don’t point artillery at you but I am put on alert to encroachment.
I’ve always thought, and a couple of times have sought relationships with people in the military. I appreciate a good shipping out. I’ll see you in three months, six months, it’s good. I am good with it.
I Look Clearly At Men and Kids
I think about partners who are committed to raising children with me, a micro percentage of MSM so I have to sift through the LGBT bin to find men who are committed to it.
I went to an LGBT IVF seminar with doctors and such—-$90k for one kid, $140k for two—-might as well get two. I thought it was wonderful and exciting and I started looking at my budget, but sadly in the room were mainly couples and men I have no interest in fucking, just to have a co-parent.
So I was like OK, I might have to do this alone. What does that look like?
And more importantly, so that I don’t smother children, what does my romantic/sex life look like after children?
What resources (nanny, money, flexible work) will I need to have one night away for a movie by myself or an orgy of delicious escorts, French affairs, dates, fuck buddies potentially for the rest of my life as I parent?
I look at designing my life, I always have. I’m not so much of “hoping” or waiting as I’m strategically considering—OK, if I turn 60 and I’m single and in reasonably good shape, how much money will I need to create a secure life for myself, children and someone whose responsibility it is to co-parent AND stay looking hot because they’re walking in under 40 years old?
How is Madonna managing her much young lovers with her children—what are the relationship dynamics and boundaries?
I’m also single because after my mother died, before having children, I realized I have a precious oasis of time—where I don’t have to take care of nobody but myself. I eat as I want and will—-spending as much as I will on really good food, I fuck as I please, I work at ridiculously easy jobs teaching and such, I manage my business and Art without much interruption other than from the business itself and editors and such——but I don’t have to listen to anyone else’s heartbreak or drama or trauma or needs…for awhile.
I know how long. I plan lots of things so I have a time limit to this. Lol
Knock, Knock, It’s The Co-Dependent Past
I bumped into a friend a few months ago, we’d been good friends from work and then outside of work for years and she quickly ran down the list of things—in the train station—that had occurred to her and was busy trying to figure out. When could we meet so she could go into detail? Even if we could just sit in the park?
And I realized standing there—this is what therapists do.
I don’t want to be anyone’s therapist. I did it for my mother, psychological and spiritual—I did it reasonably well, I was a stalwart son and protector. I owed her that as she took care of me, raised me, never abandoned me. She’s dead now and I’m relieved and sometimes a little happy that relationship has run its’ physical course. I’m not tired, I’m just not interested in using those same muscles, in the same way again for awhile. I’m saving those for children, for myself, for someone I see walk over and express jacked care taking muscles of their own---for me.
Knock, Knock, The Sequel
Another friend of a friend bumped into me—no, really I scan the streets and have crossed or ducked or dove out the way to avoid some folk—but she caught me and she told me about a mutual friend—the press to get me to explore, out loud, my distancing from this mutual friend. I don’t cross friendship lines, gossip, etc.—I’m the Samantha not the Charlotte—so I nodded politely, gave it ten minutes but really didn’t answer why I wasn’t checking for the other friend or even for the one in front of me.
Why Wasn’t I Checking For The Other Friend?
They were both past coworkers and the first one really helped me out and then I really helped her out but there came a point where I was standing watching her and I realized I had put my life on hold because hers was jacked up and that I was trying to fix her to fix my past, my mother, my mother’s mothering, as my friend was becoming a mother.
And when I saw that, I realized my complicity and then she casually said something that could’ve helped me move on months before that but she’d withheld to keep me by her side, as her helper. And I was like—“Oh, she’s not weak, she’s passive aggressive and I’m playing right into this.”
It helped that I had a great Life Coach who challenged me with my intentions of life changes. I saw a pattern I had to break.
I am No longer interested in messy boundary, Guinan level listening to other people’s stuff.
I can still be a friend. I’ve helped some, listened; briefly, to a few but I don’t do what I did before because I had no Art, not in the way I wanted to produce.
It was hard for me to admit my level of self-interest, in myself, my Art, because I’d spent nearly 40 years as a child and adult being selfless for love, for attention, for acceptance. It’s taken a lot of my late 20s and 30s to shift that boat’s course, to find a different balance. To enjoy my interest in freedom, to work at my own pace and understand the intrinsic possessiveness of my life, to truly put my Purpose to the forefront.
My Art vs. Men
Lots of times in past relationships, my Art became a source of competition with men. They wanted to pursue an Art, several times similar to mine with writing or production/publishing, and my interest seemed to demand I had to be 100% rooting for theirs and not my own or that I had to minimize my own. One poor sap didn’t even know for years that I was writer. lol Yeah, I gave him that one. But what I also did was deny to him and myself who I was and now, am.
I denied my creativity, my Art, my writing, my sheer joy at something so big and internal that it bursts forth onto paper. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands upon thousands of pages. It is so much more than me that it’s like a constant tidal wave---millions of words a year and then someone wants to know if we can do laundry together?
No, I drop off my laundry and very nice Asian and Latino folk do my laundry so that I can do my Art. A lot of the mundane things couples do together, I farm out so that I can squeeze out time for my Art within a regular life. I want to do the fun, great things and relaxing things with someone but I need my Art time.
He didn’t know he was in a competition that he could never win.
But part of my silence was a distrust of him and I’d had another past lover who was all kinds of jealous and spiteful around my work/talents. I wanted to just be that guy Kyle without the baggage of my Art—-yes, I know this sounds like a Miley Cyrus movie where I don wigs to pretend not to be a rock star. But there are times where I don’t need another person to validate my work. To validate me. I learned that from my messy parents, I learned to stand as me, to get other opinions on me and to have an opinion of myself. That’s where my confidence comes from---there was no one else doling it out directly to the areas I needed.
Many times in relationships some of the complaints of me, or even the reflections from friends is that I am complete unto myself---and I’m like aren’t you supposed to be at a certain age?
Not that I can’t grow more, develop deeper but that I’m not woefully incomplete looking for someone to tell me I can write a book or travel the country or walk down a dark street.
Check, check, check---there was no one else coming to tell Kyle that day after day so Kyle told himself and then got it done. And bought myself a cupcake to celebrate. I thought the point was to become.
Therapy By Proxy
I was just watching a therapy documentary and one of the things that struck me was a man who had taken care of himself from a young age and succeeded, survived that challenge and therefore didn’t want his wife messing with his emotional system. That was interesting. I don’t feel stalwart against someone else’s input, I enjoy new perspectives but I did overcome the challenges in having a dysfunctional family members and becoming a reasonably good guy.
Being A Good Man Vs. A Good Mentor
I am a good man and I used to think to be one, to complete the circle, I had to give all to all without consideration for myself. Now, I consider myself first as I give all to all---I’ve slowly changed the paradigm.
In my most recent affairs, I’ve appreciated silence from them. I want to have fun and go out and do things or have physical-sexual fun without really hearing about your struggles and issues. So much of my work/life is about empathic listening. I’m not available for that, right now.
I wasn’t burnt out but I narrowed my work down with classes, mentees, as I knew I’d have to go handle the family issues---and I saw them clearly, and I saw them mis-read me.
I’d initially arranged to keep an apartment in NYC and commute to Charlotte; a mentee had a bigger apartment. I knew and trusted him for years and I thought I can help you, help me, help you—I can stabilize paying 2/3s to his 1/3 of the rent after his previous roommate had moved out.
The landlord wasn’t amenable so I was like good deal, let’s just find another place and this 25 year old started deliberately screwing up in the transition. I made it clear three emphatic times---I’m trying to balance you/my NYC needs against my family obligations---I can do both with cooperation or I will choose. And you will lose in my choosing.
He then tells me a truth about himself---a bad experience with a teacher but further that women and gay men have always treated him with privilege because he’s so attractive. He’s implying this towards me though there was never anything of that energy from me and I realized he thinks he’s got me on the seduction hook.
I viewed him as I would a child. Perhaps an adopted older child, but like a son.
I got that he thought he was controlling me through my sexuality, with his looks---which was ludicrous. I packed up and left (technically after him) but I made it clear the deal, the friendship was off because he’d so fundamentally misunderstood me and my intentions. I was hurt and flabbergasted and guilty because I’d forestalled my family obligations for such foolishness.
I started to see how my teaching work was easing towards the curb of giving all to all. So I nipped it in the bud and took what I wanted to do, deal with my terminal mother so that no ghosts haunt me. I in no way regret the mentees/students/classes I moved away from, didn’t care take any longer. There were several LGBTSGL men’s groups that were easing too close and I worked and developed in them but I saw how men got stuck there—-in their personal trauma, specifically the death of parents—- and I didn’t want to get stuck as I saw other facilitators get stuck, over-identifying with the groups dynamics and pitifully, unhealthy, dysfunctionally, single-alone.
My Work Makes Me LGBTSGL Prodigy But Not Everyone Is Doing The Same Work
Also my work, counseling, teaching, workshops, books and such with MSM, has given me like this light speed transport to a level of conscious maturity about myself, my sexuality, relationships, but then I go into the world and everyone is rocking varying levels of maturity about sexuality---so I have to sift through the bins like everyone else.
I “give” some people a chance and I also have to look and listen consciously for things that are patterns from my past.
That takes me time to process. I can be present but I’m no longer a flat out person because I’ve matured into a person who considers what I want. And considering takes time. And men in particular have issues with time----like I’m supposed to know how I feel completely about the entirety of the interaction---on the first date.
I’m deciding between the steak or the shrimp.
I think in the past I’ve been hesitant to be so directly vague that I am still focused on the entrée, that I need time to process, to understand, to move closer to someone. In giving, in giving too much, I’ve tried to be more and more available because I thought---“Oh, this is attention so I should show up for it, I should minimize my own big screen thoughts and activities because here’s Attention!”
Now it’s not like I don’t give a fuck about anyone else’s feelings but I care about mine first---twice, before I think about yours.
In order to change, to grow, to develop, I have to give up something fundamental, we all do, especially to relationship with someone else. I’m in the long term process of giving up not being honest about there are:
· things that come before another person that I self-interestedly want;
· that I’m not always interested in therapizing with folk;
· that I want lack of depth sometimes rather than more depth and knowing.
I often fantasize about being with a really attractive idiot whom I don’t have to manage or fix, who goes to the gym a lot and is simple. They love children and want to be a parent. (I actually dated someone like this years ago but he was still dealing with being Out/shame/parent issues---those are now Kryptonite to me. I listen for Men with closet issues, parent issues, shame issues—I look at them wistfully then run.)
It’s funny so many of my fantasies involve simplicity, and now, I’m really focused on that so that I can add the overwhelming complexity of children and be present for that.
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Smile, Kyle
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Kyle Phoenix is a teacher, certified adult educator, sexologist, sex coach and sexuality educator with over two decades of intensive experience. He studied at the University at Buffalo, SUNY, New York University, and Columbia University. He has worked, consulted and taught individuals and focused professional developments for the CDC, Department of Education, Gay Men's Health Crisis, New York City Department of Health, non-profits, Fortune 500 companies and unions. He began his career facilitating on-campus workshops addressing a wide range of sexuality and sexual health issues and then moved on to teaching at universities, non-profits, private groups and clients, hosting The Kyle Phoenix Show on television and multiple online webinars, including YouTube and Sclipo and writing extensively through his blog, Special Reports, articles and other print and E books in the Kyle Phoenix Series on relationships, finance, education, spirituality and culture. He lives in New York with his family.
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