More on "who am I, really?"

My friend, the kayaker, e-mailed me after reading my last post. Let me see if I understand what he's saying.

Last night I wrote "Trying to find the delicate balance between who we are and who we believe or see ourselves to be is one of the great challenges of this online dating exercise, as well as most of life."

He says that the various women he [serially] dates bring out different aspects of his personality. Let's say he has four distinctive facets to his personality. (He really has much more than that, but I haven't got all night here!) For example, let's say he has a very unique sense of humor, that he likes to be introspective and analytical and have discussions about psychological things, that he likes when a woman is tender and gentle with him and allows that part of him to emerge, and that he loves the outdoors. What if he's attracted to someone and she appreciates his brand of humor but isn't an outdoor-kinda-gal; or that she's sweet, gentle, and likes to have discussions about her deepest thoughts and feelings, but thinks his humor is out in left field. Does he morph into what he sees of himself in her, what he believes she appreciates? Does he suppress the part of him that isn't overly attractive to her, accentuating the things that she views as positive traits?

Does he have to be all things to her? If he's visually attracted to her and likes her brains and her sweet personality but she doesn't like his type of humor, should he hold the jokes for work buddies or stargazing buddies or kayaking buddies? Or does he just continue enjoying and polishing his many facets, and she can take him or leave him? Is he really saying that he's adaptable, that whatever his current woman likes is who he is?

I personally don't want to be joined at the hip. (I'm not saying that's the kayaker's suggestion.) I have an artistic side, an interest in arts and crafts and clay and glass. If my man doesn't share those interests, my two Pottery Pals do. I have a great love of classical choral music. If my man doesn't share that, my TSO Chorus friends do. I would like my man to appreciate that I have all these facets, but he doesn't necessarily need to embrace them. I love being partnered with a man who golfs. I support that activity and will listen to all the tall tales and humorous anecdotes he wants to tell, but I don't need to go participate in the activity with him to fully appreciate it.

When my man has interests of his own, whether golf or investing or working extra jobs to get ahead and feed his creative soul, that enables me to pursue my interests — moderating a listserve, maintaining the Pi Phi database, sewing, singing, spending time with grandbabies — without stealing time away from us.

Throughout my life, I have been adaptable. The Little Adoptee within me wants so badly to be accepted and loved that I will adapt to whatever situation I'm in. When one is that adaptable for such a long period of time, the "real you" is no longer readily identifiable.

About eighteen months ago I decided to try eHarmony.com. I signed up and spent twenty minutes on their mandatory personality profile. When I was finished and pressed Enter, the message on the screen directed me to another screen, where I was told they couldn't help me! An online dating service rejected me!! How low can I go?! What they said was that they build their business on being able to predict successful matches, and if they cannot predict the type of person that you will successfully bond/match/mate/whatever with, they will not accept you as a member. I told some friends about this outcome, and they said I must have done something wrong. So I took the test again, with the same [demeaning] outcome. About fifteen months later, I tried it again and again was refused admittance to this club of people who are less adaptable than I.

Isn't adaptability a good thing, a desireable characteristic? Or is one who is so adaptable merely possessed of a poorly defined personality?

So I'm not sure how to answer my kayaking friend, when he poses the question about what kind of woman he wants to be with on a long-term basis — the one who appreciates his humor; the one who is sweet and gentle; the one who has long introspective conversations . . . .

Ooooh, here's a scary thought. Is this just the sort of thing that the antagonists of monogamy have been saying for years — that being two people committed to only each other for a lifetime (or in our case, what's left of a lifetime) just ain't natural?