Magic, Apathy and Whatever’s In Between

Howdy, folks. Hope everyone still has their fingers and eyebrows intact after the Fourth. Patrick was sick all day and missed out on the major mall-funded events, so I surprised him. I bought some fireworks at the grocery store! The MegaBlast package had a phenomenal assortment of sparkling incendiary devices with names like Eagle Fountain and Screaming Showers.  It was a lot more fun to do our own modest show than spend hours stuck in herds of people craning our necks like Pez dispensers.

Speaking of fireworks, I wandered back into the dating pool over the past month. And came running back out, scalded by jellyfish. I jest. It’s less about who I met, more about who I am. I have finally gotten used to being single, sort of hermetic. Sure, I’m lonely, but I’d rather be that than be with someone under false pretenses and feel absolutely apathetic. I’m peculiar, particular and have certain obsessive/compulsive tendencies. My dad wonders why I can’t find someone to date. I can find “someone”. However, I can’t find someone with whom I actually want to spend time (Who? Whom? Seventh grade grammar fails me now.) or kiss. There has to be magic, that inexplicable flurry of glitter and luck, and enough attraction to yank you past the fear of being vulnerable to another person. Magic is impossible to come by though. I’ve held that ember in my palm a few times, but always unwittingly extinguish it.

My fears…will someone love me enough to look past my mistakes? Will they judge me harshly? Will they accuse me of crimes yet to be committed? Will they want things I cannot give? Can I trust someone with my heart? Can I be stable and maintain a relationship? Can I love someone without losing myself? Can I treat myself with enough respect to demand it from a partner? I fight against the rather loud, obnoxious voice in my head that perpetually says I don’t deserve anyone good. I’ve met some wonderful men over the years–none more so than one in particular two years ago. He became the benchmark for how I wish a man would love me. Predictably, I effed that up massively. Here’s what I learned from him though about what love should be. He loved me for who I was, not for some idealized notion in his head. He never tried to change me. He supported me no matter what…in thought, action and deed. I wish I had been capable of reciprocating that to him. I will always wish that I had realized I was holding a supernova in my hand, the ultimate, universe-altering love with all the power I’d ever need in my life. It was love at first sight and he tried so hard to make me see it and comprehend the depth of his intentions. Oh well, what can you do with a fool like me?

That’s why I haven’t been too keen on dating just to be sociable. It feels like a waste of everyone’s time and energy, commodities far too precious for such follies. That lightning bolt may never strike me again, but I’d rather hope for another miracle than accept mediocrity.

 

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