Netflix and ice cream and fishing

Living alone again has taught me a few things. It's helped me to remember some things, too, like I'm not bad at taking care of myself, especially when I have enough time. I can make food. I can clean. I can shop for things. Most of my married existence was spent alone anyway, so my skills are not too rusty. Doing laundry is much simpler. It's only a load or two a week. 

I can watch whatever I want to watch on TV. I've noticed that I have a hard time watching anything bloody or with a lot of swearing, though. Something in me is bothered by that. I don't know when that started. I enjoy psychological thrillers more than anything else. 

Sometimes I sit in my recliner and watch Netflix in my underwear and eat my Haagen Dazs strawberry ice cream (which I think is my new favorite, supplanting pistachio gelato), and it's hard for me to think about the future. I'm simultaneously licking my spoon and licking my wounds. 

Let's recount some of my relationships. We don't have to talk about them all. 

Kristen Brailey (sp) was my first crush. She was the daughter of my babysitter, and she was a year older than me. It took a bit of asking on my mom's part, but I said I wanted to marry Kristen someday. I loved her freckles and her tomboy ways. Sadly, her family moved away when I was still young. 

There were always girls who wanted my attention, even in grade school. I was always getting notes from girls asking me if I liked them or would I go out with them. Here I was, petrified of girls because of one of my older brother's experiences with one in particular (and she was the reason why my family had to move away from my hometown). I always felt vaguely or acutely uncomfortable when a girl would put it all on the line like that. I felt sorry for her, mostly, because I had absolutely no intention of interacting with her that way. One of my friends, Jeff H., had a girlfriend in the second grade. My friend Matt and I saw Hoosiers at the theater and Jeff and his girlfriend were a few rows up from us, Jeff's dad, Doug, sitting in the row behind them but leaning in between them. I remember saying to Matt, "They're in the second grade!" 

My mind stayed in that push-back mode for the rest of my grade school years, middle school, and much of high school. There was a part of me that was afraid of girls because of my older brother's experience, and there was the realization that it was a huge leap toward growing up, which I desperately wanted to put off because it felt like I had to grow up too soon in so many ways. 

I managed to make it through high school without a steady girlfriend. But, once I was in college, there was one girl I missed like crazy. And she was the only one I missed. I felt like she belonged in my life, but I couldn't figure out how. We hung out, she's told me, but I don't remember the times we hung out. I think I just wanted to have her around, even if we didn't do anything, because it just felt right to have her there. 

That girl met my parents; we had dinner together, and I blew my chance at being with her because, by the time I found the girl I wanted to be with, I had no skills whatsoever to make it known to her. I guess that's called irony. Sadly, she got away, and I've missed her ever since. How was I supposed to know she'd fall in love when she was 18? In any case, it's hard to quantify how much you can miss someone. She's one human being I've missed for most of my life. I wish I hadn't been so ill-equipped for what I wanted with her. But, the past is the past. Truly, though, missing out on her haunts me every single day. 

My experiences with trying to date other girls were absolutely laughable. There was always something missing anyway. They weren't what I wanted. I retreated to the sad landscape of internet relay chat. I found a girl there (serendipitously) and we developed a relationship before long. This would be the girl who would bring me lower than anyone had before. This is the girl who would take up more than 20 years of my life with nothing to show but heartache and loss. If I'm honest with myself, I should have seen it coming. Our hearts can blind us sometimes. The clues were all there, in me and in her. I'm beginning to realize there was a certain amount of codependence going on there, even though we rarely saw each other because our work schedules simply didn't align and because I was such a tough, do-it-yourself, independent kid growing up. She was my rest from the hard world, but she insisted on stabbing me in the back. 

It's easy to look back and see your mistakes. It's easy to imagine doing things the right way. It's hard to give yourself a pass sometimes. We're all human. None of us are perfect. Still, what I see looking back is a brutal parade of rejection. Every single relationship felt like rejection at some point or ended in rejection. I was normally the one who figured out long after the fact that it was over or that what I thought was something was, in fact, nothing. I was so clueless. 

What do you do when you sit down and think about your relationships and realize that they've all ended in rejection? They've all failed because of something in you that you didn't see? Let's be honest here. Well, you can decide that you need to find out and fix whatever that thing is, or you can go ahead and make the same mistake again (not an option you want to explore right now) or you can simply give up and not try again (which, not surprisingly, sounds really nice). Realizing that I am the common denominator in the failure of so many relationships tells me that 1) I'm not simply unlucky in love 2) It will happen again. That's a tough pill to swallow. Sooner or later, though, you have to take your medicine. 

So, today is not a day for declarations. Today is a day for realizations. I cannot say that I am going to love again. I cannot say that I'm capable of anything. Today is just a day to say, "I don't know how that's possible." When you've done nothing but get burned and you keep putting your hand in the fire, maybe it's okay to just sit back and not partake, taking in the glow and the warmth but not trying to touch. Maybe there's nothing actually wrong with love, but just in how I've handled it. 

Above all, I've realized that being loved or loving someone or being in love does not solve anything. It only complicates things. It's entirely possible I can love again someday. It's entirely possible I will not. But, whatever happens, I'm sure the love I have for a woman someday will not look like it has in the past. I'm nearing the age of 41, so it's entirely possible this whole conversation is moot anyway. Yes, I could offer many things to a woman. I know what I bring to a relationship. I just may not have time. 

I know I should see a therapist. Working out my issues on a blog and in my head doesn't seem to be what I need. Admitting I need help navigating these dark corridors may be the first step. Society gets really angry with people who refuse to participate. And, what's nearer and dearer to society's heart than the search for love? But, what business is it of anyone's if I bow out of the great heart race? Hasn't my heart taken enough beatings? Can't I let it rest? If I don't ever love again, would it even be a loss? Who would even notice? I gambled hard and lost hard. It's okay if I quit gambling. If it was any other pursuit, no one would blame me. But, we are all required to "get back out there" and throw our mangled hearts to strangers and a collective unworthy. "Hey, bud, there are plenty of fish in the sea," they say. "Have you tried online dating? It's so much easier." "Girls are different these days; the rules have changed; watch out." Can you see me throwing my hands up in the air? 

I'll sit and watch Netflix in my boxers and eat my fruity ice cream and hope no one walks past the window and pities me. Here, there is no rush. There are no complications. It's just me filling the silence and my belly with things that don't matter and don't really help. 

When the sun comes up tomorrow, I won't be ready. But I'll go about my day anyway. If there's one thing I've learned is that the world doesn't really care if you are unhappy. It keeps turning anyway. Step back from your life and see how truly small and insignificant you are. Zoom out like the end of a movie. All the drama fades, all the heartbreak disappears. You're just a little speck in a great big world. Whether you're hurt or whether you're on top of the world, you simply don't matter. At least, not how you imagine yourself to matter. 

It's okay if I've failed at love. It doesn't make me a failure. I don't have to be good at everything. If love isn't my thing, I can accept that. Maybe it's time to take up fishing. I've heard there are plenty of fish in the sea. Nah, there's a movie I want to watch on Netflix tonight. And some ice cream, mmm ...