Single
Not in the "Hey, I'm not dating anyone, and that's not really news" sort of way, but rather in the much heavier, "Wow. I'm single" sort of way.
I happened into lunch with Musician today and as I sat across from the table trying to figure out what's wrong with him (he's been acting odd lately, and I'm worried about him. I don't usually worry about people, so this is concerning), and getting nothing, I thought to myself: yeah, not going to happen there. I just have to accept it.
Then, finding my friend's wife's blog, and learning they have a kid.
It just hit me: I'm really really single.
It's been 3 months since Musician decided he would rather be with Nurse. 3 years since GayPat decided he was truely, truely gay. 11 months since ExOfNote tried to kill himself. 11 months since I've been so deeply, emotionally, single. And I-don't-know-how-long since he stopped loving me.
I should be moving on, none of the men I've loved/love reciprocate any more, or, rather, still love me enough; yet, for some reason, there is a little string attached to my heart that tugs me back to a place of loneliness—to that hilltop of solitude where I sit overlooking the happypeople and wondering why I can't be one of them.
I gaze down from my perch and see them running about their busy lives. I see them happy. I see them sad, but not truely sad. Mostly, I see them not alone. I wish I weren't alone.
As my sorrow settled on me this evening I called Lurch, I needed sorbet and a shoulder. He didn't answer. I went for a drive. I needed to find that hill of solitude here. I didn't find it. What I did find, however, is that I have no one to whom I can turn. I do such an amazing job of keeping people at a perscribed distance from my heart, that when I need them, there is no one there. The hill truely is empty, and I truely am an island, alone unto myself.
I happened into lunch with Musician today and as I sat across from the table trying to figure out what's wrong with him (he's been acting odd lately, and I'm worried about him. I don't usually worry about people, so this is concerning), and getting nothing, I thought to myself: yeah, not going to happen there. I just have to accept it.
Then, finding my friend's wife's blog, and learning they have a kid.
It just hit me: I'm really really single.
It's been 3 months since Musician decided he would rather be with Nurse. 3 years since GayPat decided he was truely, truely gay. 11 months since ExOfNote tried to kill himself. 11 months since I've been so deeply, emotionally, single. And I-don't-know-how-long since he stopped loving me.
I should be moving on, none of the men I've loved/love reciprocate any more, or, rather, still love me enough; yet, for some reason, there is a little string attached to my heart that tugs me back to a place of loneliness—to that hilltop of solitude where I sit overlooking the happypeople and wondering why I can't be one of them.
I gaze down from my perch and see them running about their busy lives. I see them happy. I see them sad, but not truely sad. Mostly, I see them not alone. I wish I weren't alone.
As my sorrow settled on me this evening I called Lurch, I needed sorbet and a shoulder. He didn't answer. I went for a drive. I needed to find that hill of solitude here. I didn't find it. What I did find, however, is that I have no one to whom I can turn. I do such an amazing job of keeping people at a perscribed distance from my heart, that when I need them, there is no one there. The hill truely is empty, and I truely am an island, alone unto myself.
posted by granola girl at 11:36 pm
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