Relationshit

I made a mistake. For the first time in over a year, I allowed myself to want a boyfriend. In concept, a boyfriend it is an easy thing to dismiss, but after it’s assessed in detail it becomes a much more attractive thing. I erroneously wrapped my thoughts around those silly relationship moments - the intimate conversations in bed, the smug touching of hands under the table, the mutual smiles from a shared thought - and got excited, like a puppy who gets a doggie biscuit after peeing outside. I remembered all of the nice things that I want to do in a relationship…the flowers I want to buy, the letters I want to write, the things I want to say...

Oops. I need to focus on what I have control over.

I keep pondering why I haven’t been in a substantial relationship during my seven years of being out. I admit that I’ve fallen in love a couple of times - but I promptly lost those men, and by and large I have been single. There must be some sort of purpose to this, a function that serves to justify my condition (at least that’s what I like to believe).

But what is it?

Well, before I try to answer that question, maybe I should look at the other side of this equation - why have I kept myself out of a relationship? It could be argued that I furtively build walls to fence others out, even in friendships, but this is a relatively recent phenomenon. I recall a time when I wore my flaws on my sleeve in order to arms-length people so I wouldn‘t have to worry about losing them later. Now, I find that I hide my complexities and quirks…and as a result the essences that compose who I am. My uniqueness. My particularities. My mojo (wait, that’s something else, although it‘s an accurate concession). Anyway, is this called maturity, or is it just fear?

Maybe there’s something deeper than simply getting what I want. Perhaps I should allow myself to indulge in the process of my life, whether I’m nursing myself through the tribulations of singledom or raising a kitten with my new beau. Sometimes I feel exhausted therein because I spend so much energy compensating for what I don’t have, but I have so much that I forget to be humble. I am incredibly fortunate. Most of us who read this blog probably are (and not just because you know me!). I have food, water, friends, a job, income, and a life. Ooh, and a dishwasher…love that!

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with me. Maybe the love that I want to give is a beautiful thing, a gift that’s yet to be fully appreciated. I’m like an exotic bird that sits in the back of the pet store, waiting for someone to give me the chance. I just have to wait for everyone to learn that the hamsters, gerbils, and goldfish they impulsively purchase in the front of the store die quickly (and are flushable) before they are willing to invest in me.

Alas, I know I won’t ever escape my feelings about men. I will always like someone. They probably won’t like me back.