Maybe I Should Just Not Go Anywhere…

OK, so maybe watching the new Tosca at the Met with all the talk of the “dark eyes” and “burning with love” has been a mistake…

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For Your Love

For your love,
For your love
I would give the stars above.”

The Yardbird (1965)

Love, or so the theory goes, is an evolutionary response to ensuring the continuation of the human species by keeping the family together to raise their young. But what is the evolutionary benefit of being in love with someone who wants nothing to do with you? And continuing to be in love with that person four years past the breakup, through various relationships? Shouldn’t there be some sort of a fail-safe mechanism? At this point my pain is intermixed with a sort of a wry amusement at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

The shocking thing is that pretty much anything can set my heart a-flutter: from hearing a client’s Irish accent (we both like Irish folk rock), to merely seeing someone smile because her the image of her smile pops up in my mind, to simply making a cup of tea. The pang of the empty feeling inside hits immediately, like a current. You see it coming yet it shock you nevertheless.

I keep thinking of going somewhere. Running away, if I’m honest… Would it make a difference? Would the change of scenery help or would Yours Truly be just as miserable elsewhere? We all carry our pain and hope that it doesn’t crush us. It suffocates and strangles and it makes the simplest tasks seem insurmountable. There are plenty of opportunities to enjoy, to take advantage of yet even if I do, there is no enjoyment and it feels empty and bland. It is also so bloody ridiculous to be that dramatic about a rather brief relationship that happened years ago. That in itself is a shock.

I am not delusional (one hopes). There is no basis in reality to think that somehow we will end up together, that she will change her mind. Nor am I the coercive or abusive type to constantly pursue someone who has previously made it clear to hold no interest in yours truly. I will not be showing up outside her door with a boombox or cards. In the end, all one can do is to carry on and hope for the best. Whatever that might turn out to be. Or – for fuck’s sake! – at least not for worse than now…

The Silent Partners

Depression is a Silent partner. It retreats to the dark corner where it probably sits by itself, face glued to a smartphone. It is socially awkward AF. It is also silently, sneakily poisoning you and everything you do and feel. And because it is silent, no one around you can hear it. They don’t notice it. They see just you and they don’t like what they see. They attribute the unlikeability to you for they do not see the silent partner. Or do they dislike you? Is it the silent partner that is making you think that? You march over to the dark corner – where it is sitting, face glued to the phone – to demand some answers! But the air is thick and murky, your feet feel heavy and tired, so you sit down and think “Not now. Maybe later.”. And you are both silent.

And so it goes…

It has been a long time since the last post. There was improvement. Then things got worse. Then better again. Slowly, overall, things have improved. The need to share, to post has waned. Every year, around the anniversary of the breakup and around her birthday, the feeling of hopelessness, of despair would return. Except the breakup anniversary this year went by with nary a thought of her, save for realisation that there was nothing but contentment and the usual darkness had not enveloped me as it did the years before.

And yet, here we are. Despite other relationships, despite all the progress, the thoughts of Her have permeated my vary being these past few weeks. Why? Why now? Why still? Life has been getting better! There’s someone who really likes me and respects me. And She is in a relationship as well.

Couple of years ago we have reconnected and would occasionally hang out. She had broken up with a boyfriend and was probably feeling lonely and decided to contact me. We did not spend a lot of time together but we would go to shows or get a drink every now and then. All my friends were vehemently against it but even that <a href="Meager“>meager presence of her in my life was enough. It was better than nothing!

But for the last half a year or so She has been gone from my life again. And that still hurts. It shouldn’t but it does. I wish it didn’t but it does. I wish the pain would stop but on and on it goes…

Slow Dancing

What can be more poetic than watching two people fall in love dancing?
Two friends who are just friends,
Evident to everyone but themselves.
Memories of her come rushing in
Like the overwhelming emotion of “Lean On Me”
I want to lean on her but all that I hold is a ghost of a memory,
Slipping through my fingers
Like waning notes of a forgotten love song.
And so as I dance with another, you are “Always On My Mind”.
But in the silence between the songs
Your far away voice is still there.

Can’t Hardly Wait

As I am sipping my coffee and pecking at my muffin (I’m really not used to eating this early in the morning and especially being awake this bloody early on the week-end, Yours Truly is struck by a ubiquitousness of a particular setting: walk into any coffee shop/breakfast place/dîner and you are sure to see old guys in the corner. The regulars – the come in always at the same time, they flirt with the waitresses regardless of age, and they ardently discuss what is wrong with the world.
I can’t wait to get this old. For one thing the whole “sexual urges” will be over and done with and, hopefully, the memory of the EX will be buried by failing memory. Not to mention the fact that having the old talk with the guys about sports, politics, and what is going on with the neighbours would be the highlight of the day. How good is that?

The Vagaries Of Life.

As I am sitting in the tent, eating my supper, Yours Truly is considering the current situation. We had to set up an emergency camp on a mountain plateau, far from any suitable location. The plan was quite different but due to the deep and intractable snow and darkness we have been left with no choice but to sleep here and backtrack the entire trajectory thus far.
At times like these, one cannot but contemplate the vagaries of life. We had a plan; it was a good plan. But it completely desintegrated. (As the military folks are apt to point out, no plan survives contact with the enemy.)
Yours Truly also has some plans. If you have read my previous posts, you know that I am working on being a better me. It is not easy but – not unlike a shark – if I stop moving, that will be the end of the line. Eventually, the aim is to be the kind of person that would be successful in interpersonal relationships, and especially the romantic kind. So as I am biding my time in a cold tent in the middle of a mountain plateau, with high winds battering the sides of the tent, on the eve of the Ex’s birthday, I am striving to figure out how is it possible that an exceptionally bright and beautiful young woman, 13 years my junior, would show romantic interest in Yours Truly. To date, we have only gone out on a few dates (though snogging was involved) and she is amazing. She loves a lot of the same things I love and same goes for things we hate. We have a tremendous amount of things in common. And I don’t know how to react and what to do with myself. Am I still in love with the Ex? Am I ready for a relationship with someone new? Does she even want one? How do I not screw this up? This new girl – let us refer to her as T. – is  by far more pleasant, far smarter, better writer, and more beautiful than the Ex. And yet I do still think about the Ex. To my credit, this does not happen as often as before and, since meeting T., the intensity of emotions has greatly declined. Will she be the one to help me out of my ennui and perhaps more? Or am investing too much, too early and am simply setting things up for a disappointment? The latter is most likely true. But I yearn for someone to hold me close and see me for who I truly am and what I can become. For now, though, I am stuck in a tent with two other guys, hundreds of miles/kilometres from home and T.