I listen or read people talking about the headaches and hassles that they inevitably face in intimate relationships, and I think that I just want no goddamn part of that at all.
I think of all the pain and suffering I've caused with the debacle I've made of all of my previous attempts at relationships, and I think that avoiding future such attempts nearly qualifies as a public service.
I think of all the pain and suffering I've caused *myself* with the debacle I've made of all my previous attempts at relationships, and I think I would sooner gouge out my eyes with a dull, rusty spoon than to go through that again.
All of that seems to add up to the conclusion that I have no business whatsoever even thinking about being anything other than single anytime soon. And at 43, my supply of "soons" is drying (or dried) up. So it seems advisable for me to come to terms with the likelihood that IF I survive the vicissitudes of life long enough to become old and infirm--which won't actually be all that far away--I will do so on my own. And though it sometimes becomes all too easy to forget this, it really is far better that way.
That really is how it seems to me much of the time: that whatever part of the human psyche that enables people to truly love and be loved is a part that I simply do not have. That it is analogous to most of the rest of humanity's having wings and the ability to fly, and it's fucking awesome. I, however, either was born without wings or had them ripped off before I can remember. So not only can I not share in the fucking awesome experience of flight, but also--because I lack the necessary parts of me that would make it possible--I simply have no frame of reference even to imagine what that experience might be like.
So I should stop looking up, and stop wishing I could fly. I'd be better off getting used to the view from the ground.
That really is how it seems to me much of the time: that whatever part of the human psyche that enables people to truly love and be loved is a part that I simply do not have. That it is analogous to most of the rest of humanity's having wings and the ability to fly, and it's fucking awesome. I, however, either was born without wings or had them ripped off before I can remember. So not only can I not share in the fucking awesome experience of flight, but also--because I lack the necessary parts of me that would make it possible--I simply have no frame of reference even to imagine what that experience might be like.
So I should stop looking up, and stop wishing I could fly. I'd be better off getting used to the view from the ground.
The only thing lonelier than solitude is being isolated inside a bad partnership. There are plenty of "wingless" people in committed relationships, careening in endless open air while tethered to someone else, longing for a quiet spot of terra firma.
ReplyDeleteIt may be difficult, but if you can, try to be grateful your feet are on the ground.