This is it. I’ve really and truly tipped over to the dark side. I go out with someone. I tell them I love them. One day i decide that I don’t feel loved… or whatever. And I break up with them. And then… nothing. I go back to work. I give my clothes for dry cleaning. I call a few friends. I make plans of travel. And once in a while, I think of him.
Have I become so good at break ups that they take nothing from me? Or is this me letting my inner sociopath flourish? Or have I actually lost touch with who I am and what I need that I can’t even identify it if it’s right in front of me? Or… and this is the tough one, is what I need so unrealistic that I’m doomed to live an unfulfilled life always craving for something that really doesn’t exist?
Let’s examine that for a second shall we? Need. Why has that become a four-letter word? “To need someone means there’s something missing in you. You shouldn’t need but surely want.” “Is he too needy?” “Don’t operate from a place of need - that just signifies ‘lack’” yada yada yada.
The simple fact of the matter is - I need people. Not just any people but a specific kind of people. I need people who are whip-smart, who can make me laugh in an uncontrollable kind of way, I need someone who makes love to my whole body, from my brain to my toes, whom I can have late night conversations with, to play with, to tell stories with, who’s better at friends than I am (which by the way would be anybody), I need people who know what the fuck they’re talking about when they talk of relationships, I need someone who sees me…. I need… I need someone who needs stuff and can make it okay for me to need stuff as well. And … I guess I need these things to exist within one person who isn’t a huge asshole and, in the context of this rant, preferably someone who thinks I’m awesome.
That’s all. That can’t be an unachievable list, can it?
Recently I read somewhere that intelligent people are lonely the world over. It’s only to be expected because “intelligence” is rare. But then that same person (or similar people) went on to describe intelligence as “the ability to comprehend the environment and make the smartest decisions of survival”. By that logic, I’m among the dumbest critters that exists.
I take a good, fun guy, turn him into the most boring, serious person out there and then crib and whine about it after the fact. Or, alternatively, I make what I THINK is the smartest move, pick a guy who isn’t too complicated or too much of an overt asshole, hope like hell that he’ll find a way to help me live outside my head, and then am bored by those very qualities… Somewhere I forgot my own game plan of “normal” and that makes me very very dumb.
The tragic part is - in my attempt to find “normal”, I’ve pretty much rejected people with those very qualities I need because of minor issues like them being obnoxious assholes or unreliable assholes or just assholes who broke my heart. But sitting here, nursing my sociopathic heartless self, I feel - assholes are also people right? And who knows, maybe I’m the asshole. (No wait, I KNOW I’m one kind of asshole).
But here’s the thing. All these years I’ve been going on about “Where are the good guys?” right? And I find one. Only to discover that it isn’t a “good guy” I’m looking for, but a guy who can engage my mind and my body and my heart. Someone who makes me want to live outside my head by giving me something more fun than my imaginary friends and revolving cast of characters to think about. Someone who sees my strengths and can teach me to be better, kinder, more loving, more friendly by probably showing me the advantages of being so. Someone who, in a world filled with people telling me that I’m not enough, makes me fall in love with myself.
(Note how I make a distinction between 'loving' oneself - which one does all by oneself and one must - and "falling in love' with oneself - which is generally an other-person thing. I think.)
Ok… that DOES seem like a tall order, maybe one that even I can’t fulfil by myself for another. And yes, it does come from a place of lack, probably. And obviously, despite having spent enough time “working on myself”, it’s not something that my harshly critical Inner child has learned to shut up about.
And yet… the heart - and an active imagination - wants what it wants. And, until one gets that (or deserves it?), maybe it’s okay for it to always be Netflix and Chill for one.