the nature of maps

I have a map in my head - I assume we all have these, that this is one of those heartening intrinsic signs of humanity - that connects all of my relationships with people, and attempts on occasion to make sense of why certain things are so.

Perhaps what is unusual about this map is the weird range of quotes that get stuck in my head and the timing with which these relationships collide. I went to a friend's play reading this evening, and surrounded by a large group of acquaintances, the usual questions were asked. "How was your trip home for the holiday?"

I shrugged. "Oh, you know, two weeks of everyone going 'You are nothing like us!' You're skinny and you eat vegetables and we don't know where you learned to drink scotch."

"Well, that's you, at least."

And that is me, and that's the kind of thing I can't change even though it's clearly not genetic. There are certain truths that come along with each person. With me, its a fact that the second I recognize I have feelings for someone, I will be more terrified than excited. Its a universal truth that if there's anyone remotely creepy in a room, they will gravitate towards me in a manner of seconds. And it is inevitable that I think dessert is not to be eaten after dinner but instead of it, if it is going to really be enjoyed.

Those are things that form the separating faults and keep that shared humanity in weird topographical form. You can never really figure out all of an individual's rules - you can only gesture at them. It becomes an odd dance, then, to figure out what it is they want from you.

Recently, both at random and in the context of discussing my romantic history, people keep bringing up my most notable ex-boyfriend. It's perhaps a function of this that while searching for an archived conversation with another friend today, I came across one from him:

"I just want some kind of certificate that says that I did more for you than just fuck you up a bunch."

At the time, he got a bunch of saccharine reassurances from me; later, I'd stop talking to him with no fanfare at all, ensuring that no such certificate really existed. Sometimes I guess it's possible that all people do is fuck you up a bunch.

At the same time, though, we are still moving along in this weirdly tentative fashion, overinterested in each other's feelings in an attempt to parse whether they might make as much sense as our own do. They never will; even when someone acts in the same manner we might have in the same situation, we'll probably assume that we'd have done otherwise.

(Which is why, when looking back at our own decisions, the most common refrain is "What the fuck was I thinking?")

I am willing to overthink every situation and to assume that every person who walks into my life is meant to be there in some very meaningful way, and I guess that's because assuming otherwise might mean forgetting to pay attention to the things in front of you. The price I pay for this is constant worry about what everyone else is thinking and whether or not what I'm doing in their lives is meaningful enough in turn.

This is all remarkably stressful, and the peaks and valleys in my relationship map are pretty damn pronounced. I'm pretty consistently being picked on for my in-depth analysis of the company that I keep, and conversely, people tend to make a very big deal about the relationships I haven't made my mind up about because they know how rarely I do anything lightly.

Here is the part that I don't get: after all of the stress and all of the moments where I stop caring because I simply can't be bothered to keep thinking anymore, what I'm left with is this really gorgeous array of people who are immensely talented and incredibly good to me and actually add to the world we're all living in.

How do you get yourself to change overly rigorous processes of people-acceptance if the results you're getting are impeccably good?