Thinky Thoughts
I've spent a lot of time thinking this weekend. I've had a lot of time to myself, and though I haven't descended into the black, it's definitely made me pretty contemplative. I'm 38 years old right now, and I think I'm finally accepting the fact that I'm meant to be alone. I don't want that to sound like I've given up, because I haven't. I just think that some people aren't meant to share their lives with other people, and I'm pretty sure I'm one of them. I was watching My So Called Life yesterday, and there was this scene at the end when Jordan Catalano walked up to Angela and they're walking down the hall and he sort of unobtrusively reaches for her hand and they walk away together holding hands. It got me thinking. No one has ever done that to me. No one has ever reached for my hand like that, casual but not, and walked with me anywhere. No one has ever told me that I'm beautiful, no one has ever looked at me like I am, and I'm not saying that it's anyone else's responsibility to make me feel beautiful, just that no one ever has. I know I'm not especially pretty, especially now that I'm so overweight. My face is average at best, and I'd never win any contests for being pretty. I'm okay with that. I'm not disfigured or anything, and mostly I think I'm a good person, which is what's supposed to be more important, right?
Anyways.
So I'm thinking about My So Called Life and holding hands and things like that, and I start thinking about people getting married and creating families and just feeling so comfortable with someone that it's not weird to want to be around them all the time. I've never had that. Ever. I've had crushes on people before, and I've gotten butterflies and that stupid smile that comes from thinking about someone I like. I've been love-clumsy, I've worn clothes with the intention of impressing someone, I've taken extra care with make-up. I've written horrible poetry, I've driven past houses on my way home from somewhere, I've reread texts over and over again just because they made me feel good and they made me know that someone was thinking about me, however briefly. I even believe I've been in love before. But I've never been in the type of relationship where it's mutual. Which is not to say that no one has ever had feelings for me; I know they have. People have been attracted to me before, and people have asked me out and people have even wanted me. But it's never been enough. I've never been enough. I'm not going to lie and pretend like that doesn't make me sad sometimes. I wish I could find someone who looked forward to spending time with me. I wish there was someone who would get excited about building a life with me, about making a home and filling it with books and things that are important to us. I would love to find someone who made me want to take pictures instead of hiding from the camera all the time. I would like to find someone who wanted to watch movies with me or go for long car rides or plan trips to all the places. I would like to know that there's someone out there who got excited when I sent them a text, that just seeing my name pop up made them smile. But I also know that a lot of the time I like being on my own. And I think that maybe I'm meant to be on my own.
I'm kind of a weirdo. Not in the trendy hipster way, but in the old-fashioned nerdy way. I say things sometimes that make people give me The Look. And I don't even say half the things I think. I know my family thinks I'm...unique. And I'm okay with that most of the time. It suits me to be the observer when we do group things. Actually, being the observer suits me most of the time. I'm quiet, and part of that's being shy, but part of that is just being comfortable in silence. I don't feel the need to talk all the time, and I can go longer than most people with uncomfortable silences, mostly because they aren't uncomfortable for me.
I'm 38 years old, and there's some crazy statistic that I'm more likely to get struck by lightning or win the lottery than I am to get married at this age. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that. I don't especially love the statistic, whatever it is, but at the same time, I don't have any desire to go out and actively look for a mate. I know that I'll never meet anyone if I don't go out and try, but the idea of going to bars or signing up for an online dating service just...makes me shake my head. I don't want to do that. I know no one is going to just show up, I know I haven't met anyone who would want to be with me in a romantic sense for a long time, and that pretty much limits my chances even further. I wish it was different, and yet I don't know what to do about it. That's not exactly true; I DO know what to do about it, I just don't particularly want to do what I have to do. Which is why I think I'm probably meant to be alone. Not in any sort of martyr way, just in an accepting way.
I'm not sure how old I was when I realized that there was no prince planning to whisk me away to his house on the beach, who would work hard and make lots of money so I could stay at home and have babies while writing a novel as they napped. It's a lame one as far as fantasies go, but for a really long time that's what I thought I wanted. Sometimes a part of me still does. At least the house on the beach and novel writing part. As I saw my friends get boyfriends and then husbands, though, I understood that no one was coming for me. I spent longer than I probably should have feeling sorry for myself and wondering what it was that made my friends so much better than I was. And then I tried to believe that they weren't better, they had just found their soulmates sooner than I had. My time was coming because being alone wasn't an option. People had relationships and got married, so I would too, no matter how long it took. Letting go of that has been really difficult. Sometimes when I'm feeling lonelier than usual, I tell myself that he's still out there, the one person who I'm meant to be with, the one who gets me and who will reach for my hand without even thinking about it. But I don't think he is. When I look really deeply inside myself and ask myself what I truly believe, I don't think he's out there. Or if he is, he's already found someone else. I'm not sure what to do with that information other than to just accept it. So I guess that's what I do.
For awhile a couple years ago, I thought things might be changing. I thought I had met someone who could possibly be it. Like It with a capital I. Things were sharper, in a way, I was sharper. I began to actually envision what it could be like to picture myself with another person in the long-term. We didn't agree on everything, but that was okay, because the level of caring was great enough that the differences became good things rather than obstacles. It was easier for me to imagine how things could be with someone when I knew that I would still have me. I'd still have the time that made me happy. Time to myself, time with my books, time with my family...And I wonder if that's why it didn't work. I wonder if I'm too independent to have a real relationship. I don't want my other half; I'm perfectly whole as I am, thanks. I want someone to complement me, and whom I complement. And I think that's over reaching.
Or maybe I'm just too fucked up for anyone to want to be around for any amount of time.