This one has been a long time in the making. When I mentioned to a friend the subject of what I'm going to write about, he looked at me and said one word, "Why?" I thought for a minute and replied, "Because I need to."
I let go of Candice last year and am back to my usual chipper self but this has been running around in my head for a while. Possibly my compulsion to write about it, to get it out in the open, which is antithetical to my usual desire for privacy, will serve as a final expulsion of anything left in me that cared for her. At the end the whole episode turned out to be fairly brutal and painful and while going through it I did the opposite of what I normally do, I clammed up. I never wrote about it, I put off talking about it after it happened and when I finally did the first person I told lives a few states away. The first few weeks I was numb and it felt like I was living in a state of perpetual fugue. Hurts like this always take time to heal, and hurts on this scale irrevocably leave scars, but such is the peril of love I suppose. Brad Paisley quips that if love were a plane, no one would get on because statistically the chances of love working out is substantially worse then the statistical probability of a plane crash. But we all line up anyway and board a plane that sometimes only has one engine and half a wing that serves terrible food, and is piloted by drunken chimpanzees. Yet we gleefully and with expectant hope line up anyways, boarding passes clutched tightly in our hands eager to get on board and get flying. As cynical as my previous statements sound though I'd gladly grab my ticket and queue with everyone else because eventually I'll board the right flight and survive the trip even if my previous travels never took me where I wanted to go.
I think that I latch on to women too quickly. I don’t know why I’m wired that way. All it takes is a few good dates, a couple of kisses and I’m sold. Combine that with another person who was also searching for love and romance and you get a potent mélange of neediness and codependency. I have to say though when I finally started talking about it my friends really stepped up to the plate. They constantly called, never judged, were always quick to take me out and not leave me alone if I was especially down. I have to say though Silas called it from the very beginning (his predictions about women in my life are surprisingly prescient). Ah well regardless the whole situation left me well aware of a few things:
1) I am supremely unlucky at love
2) I tend to latch on too quickly rather then let things develop slowly
3) I have no idea how to be in a relationship that lasts longer then 6 months
4) I’m getting too old for this crap
Socrates said, “And in knowing that you know nothing, makes you the smartest of all.” By that rationale I should be a pro at this but I still feel like I’m playing in the Little League. Maybe my stats would improve if I didn’t draft from the injured list, but when injuries are internal it’s more difficult to judge. When you consider that along with my very linear approach to problem solving and desire to help whomever I care about creates a situation that may be detrimental but Ill still try anyway because it’s better then being alone. At least my focus is off myself and on someone else. That may be wrong and I’m pretty sure it is, but at the end of the day maybe the philosophical question I should focus on is “know thyself” rather then “give yourself away.”
