Fear of commitment?

I was hanging out with my friend, W, before I left NYC having a glass of wine and talking at his apartment. The topic of dating came up as it has many times before and I said, again, my theory that it’s impossible to find a decent guy living in Manhattan. W disagreed, as he is very eligible himself, remarking that he doesn’t think of me as someone who is ready for a relationship. He said that he thinks I still like being independent and picking up and leaving as I please. Wifey has made the same observation. She said she thinks I want to find somebody but that I’m not quite ready to be in a relationship. I would have never said this abut myself but the more I thought about it the more true it sounded. Sometimes your friends can know you better than you know yourself.

Lately I’ve been looking back at the guys I’ve dated in the past few years as well as the guys I currently find myself attracted to. It seems my friends’ Dr. Phil observations may be correct. I seem to only be interested in guys that are poorly suited for me. Bring it on if you have emotional baggage, inability to love, financial troubles, are gay or otherwise attached. I always thought that I had what most girls are plagued with, a weak spot for bad boys. Perhaps though, I don’t like these guys because they’re “bad” but more because I know they will always remain unattainable. Perhaps this is my subconscious way of not getting into something too serious?

Whenever someone genuinely seems interested in me and seems like a great person that I could be compatible with I always push them away. In my previous blog where I mentioned (ok, ranted) about my annoyance with nice guys (and angered quite a few of them), my frustrations may have been ill directed. It wasn’t the nice guys that were making me nauseous, it was the thought of being in a committed relationship. All of this time I thought I was looking for love and unable to find it. I had missed the intimacy, the breakfast in beds and morning kisses on the small of my neck, but I don’t miss having someone to answer to and call every night before bed.

Am I doomed to open jars, zip the back of my dress, clasp bracelets, reach the top shelf, and kill spiders on my own for the rest of my life? Could I have had a fear of commitment all of this time and not even know it? Is this why I choose to work freelance and have trouble signing a one year lease? What would it take for me to be ready for a relationship?