Ponderings about Romance

Today I met up with a friend and we sat at a cafe in Williamstown and chatted for three or four hours. We pondered. We talked about men, about the easiness in which we both succumb to obsessing over those weird creatures, about how pathetic that is. Wondered what the hell it was all about. I was pleased to report that I am obsessing over nobody at this point in time. She was displeased to report that she is, over a potential old entanglement re-entered, but that she is taking steps to remedy that situation by instead choosing to pour her obsessing into someone unatainable, namely the comedian and TV personality Adam Hills. I understand the attraction. He rocks my socks too. We surmised that her obsessing over unattainable Adam is something akin to the dynamics of rebound love without the splatters. Me, I've had enough of the love that plays out only in my head. It's the safe and sound sort that gives about as much satisfaction as a block of crap chocolate and a dose of porn. I much prefer the dangerous variety that occurs out in the world, but the thought of that actually scares the living waste matter out of me these days.

I have not been in the situation of having a new man in my life for 12 years. It feels impossible, but then you know what they say about riding bicycles. I know the thought of being with someone else felt impossible like this the last time I was single, for a four-year period from the age of 22 to 26. Perhaps it shall suddenly be possible, some time in the future, and I will be surprised all over again. New spring budding in autumn. That would be very lovely, I admit to myself in my more honest moments, when I lift up the love flap and peer inside. Yes, still there, the desire. Hidden away there under my left ribcage. It is enough to admit to myself that it still beats there.

I honestly don't know if I am capable of being in a sustainable relationship. Which is a strange thing to say after being in one for 10 years but it is nevertheless true. Maybe everyone feels like this, even those in successful relationships. I say that I want the person that God has for me. In my more negative moments I think that is a way to allay my fears, to get out of the responsibility of choosing someone I will be able to stay the course with. In my more positive moments, I think that is a way to allay my fears, to blessedly give over the responsibility of choosing someone I will be able to stay the course with. I don't think there is only one person out there for one other person, by any means. I think there are many people out there for one person, but I am not inclined to settle for anything other than a God-fit if I ever do manage to spew myself forth into something again. It is a glue that is necessary for me to take such a patently ridiculous chance, unfortunately :)

I tend to think that the best times to enter into relationships are when you are of the opinion that a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. The times when you have some sort of confidence about you. My confidence that I could attract someone feels more shot to pieces than it ever has before, unfortunately. I feel strong and capable when it comes to living in my own skin and loving it, but bring a man and attraction and things that remind me of how ugly I feel into the picture and the picture blurs. How those two things could mesh is beyond me, but things mesh all the time that you never thought could. It is far better to invite someone into a life that is already full to share it, rather than to invite someone into your life because you are trying to assauge something. I have never been amenable to the second way, and I am in the process of refuelling the first. But perhaps the longer I go on loving living in my own skin, wiser, wounded but healing, walking into something new, mysteries I've been building for years, the less I will be interested in attracting a man to share it anyway. I don't know.

It is nice to not feel that I am incomplete because I don't have a man in my life. It is embarrassing to think of how many years I did spend thinking that way. Back in the 22 to 26 period, I yearned and yearned and wanted and wanted and daydreamed over unattainable men. This time I yearned and yearned and daydreamed over an unattainable man for a while but now have returned back to my beautiful senses. I must say, being single when I'm 38 is easier than when I was 22. My house is so much bigger than it was back then.

I am hesitant to write about romance here. A man with whom I made the biggest fool of myself ever in the entire history of Susieness reads this blog and I am tempted to hide this side of my personality away. But then, why am I hiding my thoughts about this? Embarrassment? Yes. I said and behaved in ways I vowed I never would - and I thought I had escaped it only to fall into being a moron at the ripe old age of 36. I don't pretend to understand much of that episode. I tried going somewhere that I had no business going into. The frenetic spree that followed, of pushing someone away by blurting as much of my deep yukky crap as I could call forth, was one of the more bizarre episodes of my life, but taught me a lot about what I do when I am rolling around in things that I'm not even half cooked-for yet. And I suppose there's no shame in telling all of that, only a release in admitting that I made a doofus out of myself. I suppose there are worse things one can do, aren't there.