Thursday, January 12, 2006

I was lying in bed last night when I realized that I have spent a good portion of the past few months analyzing how I should act rather than actually looking at the realities around me. In other words, I've been giving myself far to much credit for my life/fate/quoi-ever when really I have no control whatsoever.

In the last while, I've spent many hours debating how I should act as far as romantic/intimate/quoi-ever issues go, debating everything between celibacy, abstinence (they are different things), long-term relationships, friends with benefits, and just plain fooling around. And I've pretty much sought out all these things as well, which, if you're keeping track, is a hell of a lot of ventures in a mere, say, three months.

So I've decided to stop dealing with shoulds. They serve me no purpose. Now, this all came about because last night, whilst in bed, I suddenly thought, "I am not going to be someone that knows what it's like to be young and in least in the requited, long-term sense." Needless to say, this was somewhat unsettling, but I decided to really examine this hypothesis and to my amazement, I think it's accurate, as far as I can foresee. I can picture myself a diehard romantic and all that jazz, but when it comes to actually visualizing myself with another person where we are both on the same wavelength, I just don't see it. The idea of that balance,/requitedness/quoi-ever just doesn't seem inevitable at this point in life, for me at least. I see so many guys that date for anywhere between a week and 3 months, and I guess they're happy during that time, but is 3 months really the best we can do? Actually, in my case, that would be the best I can do, as I've never been involved for more than 2 months. Numbers are irrelevant though. It's that sense of fluidity that can't be acheived in 3 months. Not dependance exactly, but habit perhaps. I observe how natural this appears to be for certain couples that I know, and I have no empathy for it whatsoever. I just don't see myself in something like that, for now at least. That should be depressing as all hell and yet it seems perfectly obvious now that I've thought of it.

K, not sure how to end this one, but I've got to go and figure out how not to look like a fool for Opera Workshop. See y'all at the after party...

of life...


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