Over the past 2 years, I have (finally) been learning lessons of detachment, particularly in my romantic life. I wonder if it’s a good thing or not. It’s likely not obvious to most people, even those who know me well, but I possess a (hidden) deeply romantic streak. And I get into relationships easily.

In high school, I experienced love-at-first-sight. When we ended up together years later, I cried in an outpouring of emotion, scaring the crap out of him. Freshman year of college, I began what I would have never realized would be an 11-year relationship. I had my first real date at the age of 30. My first OKCupid date turned into a 9-month relationship! And so the story goes on. Perhaps it’s the Korean cultural influence. We are known for our ongoing tele-dramas, and the streets of Seoul are apparently lined with googly-eyed couples staring deeply into each others’ eyes, by one account.

I’ve always had a hard time letting go of people. My attachment circle is forever growing and rarely pruned, though like for most normal people, there are periods of intensification in certain areas.

People have told me I trust too easily. I let everyone in. I’m overly inclusive to a fault. Ever since I was a child, I always included everyone, particularly those who seemed to sit on the fringes. Come join us, I would say. This past Thanksgiving, for the Friendsgiving meal at my NYC apartment, the list of people coming started to amass and amass. My friend who was helping me cook at one point got so agitated that he said he would not be able to come. I had just boarded a flight going who knows where (my typical routine), and he asked if I had a minute to talk. He sounded strange and stressed on the phone.

“What’s wrong?” I asked very concerned.

“How many people are coming to Thanksgiving?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but it could be as few as 8 and as many as 16.”

“Well, I was thinking, and ___ and I can just go eat at a restaurant. That is too many people. I can’t cook for that many people. I know you only have good intentions, but sometimes, you feel like you have to include everyone, and then you end up having multiple groups.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I had intended to try to organize a nice Thanksgiving with him in mind, and I had sort of ruined it. In the end, I ended up uninviting a bunch of people, mostly my friends. Then there were many unhappy people, myself included.

This is not an uncommon situation for me to be in.

And by my friend who was cooking Thanksgiving dinner, I guess I really mean my best friend but also my former lover of sorts or something. This was one of the first times in my adult life that I let myself be vulnerable or be in a relationship that was without definition – it really wasn’t a traditional relationship. It caused me a lot of pain, and I let myself be sad. This was a big step for me. I don’t know if this is weakness, stupidity, or a good trait. I guess it’s a weird mix of all these things. I do like how forgiving I can be.

Since then, I’ve mostly had romantic relationships that are intense and yet distant, detached. I used to be a serial monogamist and now I’m a strange polyamorous type person.

This summer, I almost got engaged in Bali. At any given time, my text messages are full of guys I have pseudo-romantic and friendship type relationships with.

Most recently, I met a guy on Tinder in Jeju. I had told myself I didn’t really want to get romantically involved with anyone. But one night, I thought that I might still want to meet guys as friends – people who were local. I love making new friends and connections. I matched with a guy, and he wanted to meet. I was clear in my intentions and told him that I really wasn’t looking for anything romantic or to date anyone. I would love to meet him though, just to hang out and get to know him. He was fine with that, and we decided to meet for dinner. I joined him and a bunch of his friends, all of whom teach English in Jeju-do. We had a lovely time, and the night meandered on. We jumped from place to place and stayed out all night long.

This past weekend, I went to his apartment. He cooked me an amazing curry dinner. We drank wine and Korean peanut drinks. Then we moved on to a party at a surf bar in Jeju City in the City Hall area. We played darts and mingled among his friends and mine. A few hours later, we were at a game shooting range where I somehow could not hit anything. I went back to his apartment and passed out. Three hours later, I was awake, and he made me coffee. We joked around and chatted a lot, and it was…nice. I let him take naked photos of me, which was, in retrospect, probably a mistake. Some of them were extremely graphic. I was tired, grumpy, and not in the mood to really protest anything. I went with it.

In many ways, he is someone I have been missing in my life. He is gentle and sensitive. He listens. I feel really cared for in a way I haven’t for a while. He’s excited at the thought of taking me around the island. He pays for my drinks and cooks me dinner. He makes me laugh. He asks me good questions. He wants to get to know me on a deep level. He wants to spend entire days with me. He would be a good father. I don’t know if I can say that about many (or really any) of the other guys I’ve ever dated.

Of course, I lean into this at the same time that I also push it away. Right.

I’m here in Jeju for another 2 weeks. I suppose relationships can have a shelf life and still be enriching and valuable. It’s just something I’ve always had a hard time accepting. It is hard to leave. It’s always a grand and passionate story, the pursuit of the everlasting. And yet, when push comes to shove, I am the first to drop and bolt at the sign of anything becoming serious or requiring commitment or a lock-down. That’s the irony and beauty (perhaps the heartbreaking reality) of the situation.