They might not have talked to me for a little while and naturally want to know what I’m up to. What has changed. What I’m doing with myself.
Recently, two separate people asked me the same question, and it has got me thinking a bit, analyzing…which I generally stay the hell away from because it usually ends in trouble.
They both asked: So, how’s the love life?
To which I usually scoff and roll eyes and shake head…and you get the picture. And usually say something like…bitches are crazy…and leave it at that. They usually have a counter argument which goes along the lines of; Well, there’s somebody for everybody…don’t shut yourself off completely…it’ll happen when you least expect it (which I hope it doesn’t)…and give me a general pep talk…because they clearly feel I need it.
I assure you, I don’t.
But, on reflection, over the past few days, I’m beginning to see where part of my problem is. Problem is the wrong word for it, but we’ll leave it at that. You see, I like people who don’t really exist. They are characters I find in books, or watch on the telly, or have small roles in films. But they aren’t real. The feeling is, which is the troubling part. Not troubling for me, but perhaps for whoever is reading this.
Comparatively, with real people, that feeling is there of course. For a very limited period of time, right at the beginning. Then it warps and dissipates and is replaced with some other space filler because situations change feelings into coping mechanisms and reactions. Maybe that isn’t the case for everyone. Maybe it’s just me.
But trust me, I am much happier alone. It’s definitely a happier existence for all involved.