No one knows what is in anothers mind. We can guess, ruminate and ponder if we are brave we ask for elucidation. For many people the quest to find love, a true love, is an essential and driving force. So many schools of thought abound. You only have one soul mate, you need to find your other half, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, why settle for one, and you add these ideas to your formative years experience and you try. You try on the off chance that you will win. Some do; many don’t. For the don’t who try again and again you have my respect. Opening one’s self to love after pain is a a gift not many will receive.
I married. I divorced. I found myself spending bits of time on-line talking to people. The serendipity of random friend requests made some meetings feel a lot less like chance and more like destiny. One pattern I noticed were the one’s who made life sizzle always ended in a fizzle. There was one who did not sizzle nor did he burn, he was there being funny, poking fun and making me feel at ease. He was smart, articulate, witty, and handsome. He never professed interest in me to warrant the type of affection I found growing in myself for him. It was painful to watch him flirt with others who fit the description of women he favored. I did my best to stuff those feelings into the far corners of my mind and simply enjoy the friendship we shared.
Quite some time passed and another began actively pursuing me. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. I’d never truly been one to have men pay attention to me. Not only did he notice me but he noticed my friend. He was jealous and angry about him. He pointed out how my friend was disrespectful of me and in deliberate insidious fashion he began planting destructive seeds. They started to root and every time my friend chose to interact with me I saw it as an attack. I had allowed a new and untried and tested person to build a fire of resentment in me. He used the thoughts of my own inadequacies and unrequited desires as kindling and continued with suggestions that I should break free of him. He painted my friend in a way that reminded me of my abusive ex and persisted until I had to do something. And in a rash moment I severed all ties with someone who never deliberately hurt me and who had only ever been hisself. I sent him a message that spoke most of the truth. I loved him, still do, but it was difficult to maintain my sanity when I knew he did not feel the same about me. He said he did not believe me. He said it was politics and that crushed every minscule thought I had that he might have liked me despite my not being his ideal.
It was not a relief. It was a quiet emptiness. It was after this point that the man I had chosen began to behave differently. He started doing insane things and slowly spent less and less time with me ~ ghosting is what the kids call it.
My foolish desire to be with someone who loved me was crushed. Crushed under the weight of his lies, my self deception and my betrayal of a friend. That was the moment that terrible cliché became a reality. I knew what I lost.
It’s a bittersweet continuance. My friend, he, opened himself to the pain of being my friend again and I appreciate that more than he knows. He’s forbidden me to speak of it to him. And I abide by his wish. I want nothing more than his happiness even if it is something that does not include me. I still get jealous but I’ve learned that’s something I need to sort through not him. After all what business is it of his if I love him.
Every now and again I let myself care. I suppose it is that I forgot what the pain of rejection and dismissal feels like so I need to dip myself into those cold waters and swim until my limbs seize up and the breath is squeezed from my lungs and my heart feels as though it wants to burst. Then, the only way to thaw myself is the shower of tears that fall. My rational mind is mostly unaffected it reminds my rather stupid emotive side that it knew better and had warned us. There is not much to do but allow myself the luxury of irrationality from time to time. The checks and balances of my psyche are a strange and marvelous thing. Actions are so important and if a persons words exceed their actions it is time to reconsider who that person is to you. When you love someone, show it. Be kind to them. Treat them gently because life if difficult enough without adding to the burdens of our daily grind. The Beatles sang that you have to hide your love away, and Goethe said *what business of yours is it if I love you* and I wonder anymore if there is truth here or simply too much of the pain that comes with opening yourself to the possibility of…. more.
Every now and again my heart wants to be found special and I mistake interest shown for something it is not… I do not understand why we cannot come with instructions and directions on how to find the parts of another that work in unison with our own. Friends are just as precarious as the desire for lovers. Too often we lose vital parts of ourselves in a quest to be liked. Sometimes we give everything and get nothing not even emotional fulfillment. An expensive lesson to learn… learn it the first time. If you are fortunate enough to meet someone who gives back as much as if not more, love them well.
Try not to be bullied by your heart, it is a drunk, blind fool and will drag you into the gutter of misery and defeat if it can. Sadly, no one will heed these words. People will continue to be reckless and ignorant when it comes to love. But me, I am pretty sure that I am getting tired of the cold waters so much so that I won’t be going to the beach.
The construct of time is everything and nothing.
There are a few small hours in certain days that pass more rapidly than I want.
If I am careful the hours stretch like dough silky smooth willing to give as much as needed. And I knead but am not needed. I have not solved the puzzle of why me and not someone else… there are plenty of others there always are, never fool yourself, never lie. I tell myself little stories of plausibilities and stop my capitualting with sadly simple truths. Actions tell a different story than words ever will.
There is a tender place inside of every living thing, it drives us toward irrational thinking. I pretend I have clad this space in armor and thorns. But in these hours the eyes it does not have peer through the tangle wondering if someone has come to break it free only to be reminded as it presses toward escape by a sharp jab which sends it crashing backward away from the light.
Perhaps I am wrong to cage such a wild beast. I let it run amuck once I cannot say I regret it but I can say that I learned much as a participant observer. So that now when my neurons fire and my pulse dances in my veins I check myself looking for chinks in the chainmail or holes in the thorny hedgerow.
The problem I fear is not so much that there is a beast, but rather it is being tamed. For there is warmth that builds in these hours and it radiates through a frozen core making me want to shed the caging and trim the thorny growth.