That’s me cuddling a snake. My glasses are always that wonky. #FACT
I realise that I’m probably just going through a weird state of mind, but it occurred to me last night that I might be alone forever, and that it might not really be so bad.
We’re talking romance loneliness here. Someone to settle down with and be with long enough to grow into each other solidly enough to be the roots of some children. Someone to share centres with. Someone to build orgasms with.
As a genderqueer, hairy, smelly man, I am pretty far outside the realm of what is attractive. For quite a while now, I’ve been searching for people who understand the me of me, who might want to become serious about being with me.
This weird entitlement of thinking ‘I’m grown up now, I kinda understand my weaknesses and issues, I’m pretty sure I could be good now, so why aren’t I with someone?’
It’s a privileged and problematic assumption. I try to steer clear. But I’m still left with this longing. A desire for someone to come along and fill in the gaps on a quirky indie romcom with an awesome leftfield soundtrack.
Why do I feel the need to buy into this assumed tying in with others? Why do I purport to reject the gender binary, whilst still craving the ultimate expression of it’s lunacy? What is it about the happy ending that makes it so right?
It occurred to me, that underneath all of my craving and whinging and moping and moaning, maybe I’m actually learning something much more useful.
I think the last few years of my life have been about learning to be myself, and then also to be with myself. Facing up to some of my darknesses and taking responsibility for my own behaviour, has given me something resembling an ability to be myself. Comfortably. I am stronger than I have ever been. I am more understanding of my instabilities. I am more determined than ever to not be a dick.
It’s awareness. Self awareness.
And self discovery.
And being with my self.
Not to mention self love (in the more euphemistic sense of the phrase).
It all adds up to actually (at least for now) feeling, in a very surprising way, ready to acknowledge that my future might be one in which I am, from that narrow point of view, all alone.
It might even be okay.
I don’t expect to ever be totally alone. I just need to rest on the support of the friends and loved ones I already have. To work on these relationships and be strong in myself. I am part of a community, I can always reach out and grow that. There is no requirement to bond with someone who has to deal with my self and all it’s weirdnesses. It’s only fair to ostracise myself from love if that’s what it takes to be the me I am.
It’s not so bad. I think I can live with it.
No hope in the boat.
I’m just going to try and be me, be happy, look out for those around me. I’m going to be aware and open and forward facing.
And hopefully, I won’t moan so much.
Being alone might just bring me closer in touch with myself, mentally, sexually and maybe even spiritually. It’s possible.
I’m going to stop trying to build a future around imagined ideals. I’m just going to work with myself, and my behaviour.
(At least until the next overwhelming crush (and the inevitable crash and burn).)