Long, long, ago, sometime in the late 80's to be exact, I resigned myself to the fact that soul mates are bullshit, and that the best any of us can hope for is someone with whom you don't mind sharing a bathroom and who, on more than one occasion, will give you a mind-altering orgasm. Ok, maybe that last part didn't occur to me until the mid-nineties, but you get my drift.
But that only applied in my real world life.
In my fantasy world life, I was a hopeless romantic. Since I wasn't allowed out, ever, I'd spend most of my time (before prime time TV shows came on) listening to music. And if it wasn't time to Get The Led Out on 102.7 (Where Rock Lives!!) most likely I was allowing myself to drown in some deep, deep (translation: sappy) love songs. Bon Jovi swore that he'd be there for me. Heat Wave promised to love me always and forever. And Prince just wanted to see me laughing in the purple rain. And it was all so warm and fuzzy and beautiful.
I hear from my friends and family that sometimes I'm a little too harsh on men. And I will cop to that. But I have to say 1) a lot of them LIKE it; I stay treating them like crap and they keep coming back for more, and 2) I treat them that way because to me, they'll never live up to the fantasy love song guys, so why bother? It's the fantasy love song guy that I want. Even if he doesn't exist.
Of course part of me wants a life partner; I've made fun of that "no man is an island" saying before but I believe it. No one can truly be happy being alone 100% of the time. But there's another, bigger, badder part of me that just can't be bothered with the compromise and ego stroking and trust and care and devotion and consideration and, well, the work it takes to develop and maintain a relationship. I just plumb don't want to work that hard. I don't want to give so much of myself when frankly, I just got it back.
I'm in this sort of selfish phase where a small thing like calling me "ma" when you text me will get you dumped, sending me a Christmas gift will have me rolling my eyes and saying, "Great! Now I have to say Thank You," and I find myself getting up to get dressed, leaving like a thief in the night after I've gotten mine, not really concerned with whether or not he's gotten his. (It's really just NOT my problem!)
So I just chug along, by myself, half wanting love and half hiding from it, all from behind this very sturdy, well-built brick wall I've got around me.
And that's okay, because even in my loneliest of lonely nights, when it's cold and rainy outside and my Queen-sized bed seem too ginormous for just lil ol' me, I know that fantasy love song guy is just a click away. And he never lets me down.
*smooches...fending off dementia after only 13 days of giving up on men*
it's gonna be a loooooonnnnnnng year