Not exactly by choice or for the sport of it but I have dated and been close with more women then I care to fully divulge. Seeking one who fits best. And from that group (and even outside it as one I never even had the pleasure of dating) there are a select few that have touched me in a way I not only long for but that I can’t explain.
I’m on a staying single tear at the moment but I still crave that kind of connection. The flirts, the laughs, the way she makes me smile, how she betters my day, how I don’t want to be apart. Anything short of those feels is garbage and I should have my head examined for pursuing anything less than the magic I’ve tasted.
Never had that with either wife. I had it first 13 years ago then 3 times over the past 2 years so I must be doing something right if doing something right means coming in contact with it then all 3 leaving me be. Probably not a good definition of success but still. Always the still.
Not quite accepting that I’ll be without a long term spouse for the rest of my life but the hope grows dimmer each day. I often feel like I don’t care but that’s bs. I’m a romantic. I can’t not be. The right one needs what I have to offer, not all these wrongies.
Maybe it’s the self-exploration kick that I’m on intermingled with the lack of food other kick I’m on that’s making me feel more sad and more alone than ever. And reminiscing those strong connections that made me the happiest in a time that I’m possibly at my unhappiest isn’t the smartest thing I’ve done either. It’s as though on my way to better, sounder overall health including mental, my thoughts sour and still contain poison.
I’ve pushed those most important away, I’m no victim. My often clouded way of thinking (or is it the ‘Larry gene’ label my family tosses around at the possible spreading of my late father’s mental illness) has me saying stupid things at times. Yet another one of the many reasons I’m breaking myself apart this winter in order to rebuild fresh and proper.
The island that I am is unhealthy for most all aspects of my life but being inside my head is where the best writers operate. The irony is rich. That being said I’ve always been great at separating work and life.
To those solitary few that have meant something unprecented to me, even though the removal and ultimately loss of such an amazing gift is agonizing, I thank you for what you gave. That live wire plug flailing around that I am.. when your power source housed me, that was it. I only want more. And I will never accept anything less again.