So here's where I'm at today: I give up on love. That's the long and short of it.
Love can't possibly exist for me because if it did, I'd have found it by now, right? The fact that I haven't yet, after at least 10 years of looking, is a testament to the fact that I'm just not cut out for a relationship, at least not at this stage of my life (if ever)... So why keep trying?
I write often about my dating disasters and lament my lack of a love life to my friends but I always do it with a self-deprecating laugh to show that I'm a good sport about it. At least I try to be. I can take those failed relationships for what they are: the basis for a really great book one day.
But today, after weeks of self-reflection and self-flagellation, and after briefly considering walking in front of a train (a la Anna Karenina), I came to the realization that it's probably time to simply take a break... from men, that is. I can't keep putting my heart out there to take a beating because it hurts too much when I finally get it back — in pieces.
So what should I do with myself?
I suppose the fact that I'll be moving into a new apartment in the coming weeks is a welcome distraction from the utter failure that my life has become. When I moved into my current apartment in 2006 (that's more than five years ago, I'd like to point out...the longest relationship I've ever had has been with my landlord.), I did so with the intention of staying one or two years and moving on. At this juncture, I can say with almost absolute certainty that I'm going to be alone forever, so why not move into something bigger and more comfortable? I may not be able to have pets, but at least I'll have a kitchen in which to cook up casseroles for one on a nightly basis.
As for how I should spend my time post-move, though, I am at a loss.
What do you do when you realize you're never going to attain the one thing you've ever aspired to be in life?
What other goal can I set myself up to fail, I wonder?
No comments:
Post a Comment