I don't know what the written equivalent of yammering is but this is your chance to get out before you wander into it. There's no actual crafted flow or cadence to what you're skimming now and it's not likely to get better before you reach the end. This is just one of those times I'm sitting here, things won't stop going through my head and I take it out on the computer, the internet and you. Apologies.
This screen has caught me prattling about everything from my own anachronistic, misdirected nature to disappearance and death on more than one occasion. And what is this ramble? What meander are you about to be dragged along? I think the strangeness of not being chosen. I don't mean that in any 'save the planet' kind of way but more like when the playground population is being divided up to play something. How many of us were the last one picked?
But to get a little more specific, I'm the one that no one chooses forever. I've heard the words and felt the emotions. I've even exchanged the promises. I've looked in someone's eyes and seen a reflection of my own love for a woman. More than once in fact.
At the end of the day, however, here I am. Alone.
Am I depressed? Disappointed?
Nope. Not really. A little sad, maybe. Tired, certainly. Confused in the way all subjective creatures are who encounter something counter to their way of thinking and of seeing things. This is as countless people have said and written the way it goes.
But I don't get it.
Now before you start making assumptions, let me repeat a few things that I've stated in previous posts. I am no angel. I'm not even a particularly nice guy. Nothing about me is a neat package waiting to be unwrapped to reveal magic. What you see is more or less what you get. And I know that we all change. I fully accept that forever is more a poetic term than something we can apply to our daily lives. I can't say I know or understand women, but I've been far closer to them than I have to men and know that 'in the moment' is much closer to describing the women I've known than forever is.
But I'm not without merits. There's a reasonable brain in here. I'm a pretty solid friend. Sensuality and romance are big for me. My massage kung fu is strong. I snuggle. The decades have given me some serious domestic chops. I'm an artist. Communication, honesty and intimacy are all cornerstones for me.
Of course the flip side of all that is I'm moody, prone to intensity, sleep is largely optional in my world, opinions fly from these lips far faster than they should, I can be too curious, I'm not someone parents ever want to know about, stability and consistency are all but completely alien to me and I'm not much motivated by material things. I'm not political. It's too easy for me to see all sides of a situation or a problem and still not be able to offer any kind of resolution. My fashion sense is questionable. This is not a young man... in any sense.
You'll notice that paragraph was lengthier than the one preceding it. I also elided. A lot.
Still, I see people in lasting couples all the time. I hear how it's so sad or even a crime that I'm single. I have so much to offer. How can no one appreciate all that I am?
I think women do. Women enjoy me. As friends and as lovers. But women don't settle with lovers. They have fond memories and sometimes tells stories about lovers. Lovers aren't husbands. Lovers aren't forever. I think no matter how much a woman may love a man, if he can't offer up security, stability and safety he will be relegated to lover. He will be an ex.
Realistically, I'm probably not couple material. Not for a traditional couple. Not for the women generally drawn to me. Maybe this is why musicians write love songs and artists paint their muses. I don't know. I honestly don't.
But I can tell you I believed what I was taught as a boy and lived most of my life according to those precepts. I was well and truly middle aged when it became clear that most of it was horse shit. We're taught what will lead to a comparatively safe Petrie dish as we all mingle like germs. It's why we're taught ethics in the conditional tense and then once those ideas sink in we're taught about the legal consequences of crossing the lines.
And like a moron I still believe in love. I still fucking hope for it. Why? Because it's about the only thing that makes life worth living. Do I enjoy artistic achievement and touching people's lives in a monthly magazine? Of course! God, these things are incredible! People have told me about my influence on who they are and what they do. That's an honor on a level I can't communicate.
But I climb into bed alone. I wake up cold. My phone seldom rings and most are cold calls.
This isn't to say I'm miserable. Not by any stretch. Nor is my life empty. I have better friends than I deserve and more love than I know what to do with. But no one rolls over in bed, kisses me softly and tells me she loves me. No one's hand folds into mine when we start walking together. I can't remember my last hug.
Hindsight is 20/20 and getting older is, if we're lucky, accruing wisdom. I've had great love (read Great Love) and it's been unreal to be the one chosen in the moment when powerful feeling was heaped upon me from someone I felt it for. The problem is that love is forever with an artist. Every loss is crushing. The fact that they are so rarely foreseen or explained is brutal. Solitude may be a balm but it's also an unflinching reminder that 'this is it, dude.'
Do I think there may be love again? Sure. Am I predicating anything upon that? Hell no. And while I would love to inform anyone who's made it this far into the text that next time I'll be wiser, that I won't be the same head first and question later dingus, I'm pretty sure there are some things I can't change. I don't even know that I want to.
It would be nice to meet someone who can actually communicate, though, and who knows her mind or what she wants.
Yes, I know that's asking a lot.
See? There was no design to it and nothing is any more clear than at the outset. But this little excursion has helped to settle my mood and give me the strength to get back out in the world.
I hope there's no one cute working the check out line.
