Entry tags:
A moment of self-absorption
First off, I'd like to apologise for not posting anything other than my serial lately. (Bazillions of new installments are up at
secret_history if you're remotely interested. Okay, fourteen since the beginning of the month. Don't get discouraged)
Mostly it's because Life is eating my brain. I'm never home early enough in the evenings to post anything coherent, and I don't want to post junk.
Anyway, I'm breaking my "no junk" rule (if you can even call it a rule) tonight, and whingeing, because it's Valentine's Day. No, I'm not one of the people who hates Valentine's Day. I don't go crazy about it, either. I just like the fact that there's a day out there when people get to celebrate love in all its forms.
It will surprise no one who reads this LJ if I tell you that never, in all my life, have I had someone in my life on Valentine's Day. Not a serious SO, not even a casual fling. Nothing. Valentine's Day, for me, is traditionally spent all by my lonesome. Not exactly by choice, either. Sometimes it was a choice (I turned someone down once who asked me on a date on that day), but mostly it's my default setting.
In fact, single seems to be my default setting. The longest relationship I ever had lasted a little over eight months, and started in the month of March. We all know how well that turned out. My record for shortest relationship is three weeks. I can count the number of people I've dated on the fingers of one hand.
I'm not usually one to stand up and ask "Why not me?" Really, I'm not. Usually I muddle through my life, reasonably content with being alone with my cats and my little habits. I don't marvel that people don't want me, at least not in any physical or romantic way. I don't think I'm so fabulous that people must be blind not to see it and be queuing up at my door to ask me out.
Every now and then, though, I get a nagging little feeling. It makes my chest constrict and my throat hurt, and then I ask the question that, really, I should avoid asking. Why the hell am I not allowed to have someone, just once? I get that feeling on Valentine's Day, although not every year. Today, though, it hit me like an eighteen-wheeler.
I went to my dance class, but I got there five minutes late. They were teaching a couples dance, and guess who didn't have a partner? I didn't even want a romantic partner. I just wanted to fucking dance with someone. Instead I sat down alone at a table and wrote a few hundred words of Conflation while I waited for them to review last week's dance.
What I want to know is what the hell is so wrong about me that no one wants me? I'm not repellent physically. At least, I don't think I am. I've got a pretty decent personality, as these things go: I smile a lot, I keep a hold of my temper most of the time, and I try to be pleasant most of the time.
You know what happens then? I get asked out by broken people. The only time I didn't get someone broken was when I was the one who did the asking, and then that only lasted for three weeks. Otherwise, I get people who are even more messed up mentally than I am, and that's saying something. I can deal with people who are a little bit broken. Hell, everyone is a little bit broken in one way or another. It's the major breaks that are hard to handle, and I seem to attract them, which means I then get put in the unenviable position of ending something which, in theory, I actually want, in order to save my sanity.
This year, at the beginning of January, I decided that I wouldn't go looking for romance or anything like it. Call me in 2007 if you want something from me, I decided. It's not like it's that hard for me to stay single, anyway. :P I thought that if I made the decision, somehow moments like these wouldn't happen anymore, because the power would be in my hands. Apparently I laboured under a delusion.
I'm going to cut this short. It's making even me sick to my stomach to read this crap. All I really wanted to say was that it would be really nice, just once, if someone were to want me. No frills, no flowers, no chocolate. Just spending the time together, because we want to.
I'm just saying.
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Mostly it's because Life is eating my brain. I'm never home early enough in the evenings to post anything coherent, and I don't want to post junk.
Anyway, I'm breaking my "no junk" rule (if you can even call it a rule) tonight, and whingeing, because it's Valentine's Day. No, I'm not one of the people who hates Valentine's Day. I don't go crazy about it, either. I just like the fact that there's a day out there when people get to celebrate love in all its forms.
It will surprise no one who reads this LJ if I tell you that never, in all my life, have I had someone in my life on Valentine's Day. Not a serious SO, not even a casual fling. Nothing. Valentine's Day, for me, is traditionally spent all by my lonesome. Not exactly by choice, either. Sometimes it was a choice (I turned someone down once who asked me on a date on that day), but mostly it's my default setting.
In fact, single seems to be my default setting. The longest relationship I ever had lasted a little over eight months, and started in the month of March. We all know how well that turned out. My record for shortest relationship is three weeks. I can count the number of people I've dated on the fingers of one hand.
I'm not usually one to stand up and ask "Why not me?" Really, I'm not. Usually I muddle through my life, reasonably content with being alone with my cats and my little habits. I don't marvel that people don't want me, at least not in any physical or romantic way. I don't think I'm so fabulous that people must be blind not to see it and be queuing up at my door to ask me out.
Every now and then, though, I get a nagging little feeling. It makes my chest constrict and my throat hurt, and then I ask the question that, really, I should avoid asking. Why the hell am I not allowed to have someone, just once? I get that feeling on Valentine's Day, although not every year. Today, though, it hit me like an eighteen-wheeler.
I went to my dance class, but I got there five minutes late. They were teaching a couples dance, and guess who didn't have a partner? I didn't even want a romantic partner. I just wanted to fucking dance with someone. Instead I sat down alone at a table and wrote a few hundred words of Conflation while I waited for them to review last week's dance.
What I want to know is what the hell is so wrong about me that no one wants me? I'm not repellent physically. At least, I don't think I am. I've got a pretty decent personality, as these things go: I smile a lot, I keep a hold of my temper most of the time, and I try to be pleasant most of the time.
You know what happens then? I get asked out by broken people. The only time I didn't get someone broken was when I was the one who did the asking, and then that only lasted for three weeks. Otherwise, I get people who are even more messed up mentally than I am, and that's saying something. I can deal with people who are a little bit broken. Hell, everyone is a little bit broken in one way or another. It's the major breaks that are hard to handle, and I seem to attract them, which means I then get put in the unenviable position of ending something which, in theory, I actually want, in order to save my sanity.
This year, at the beginning of January, I decided that I wouldn't go looking for romance or anything like it. Call me in 2007 if you want something from me, I decided. It's not like it's that hard for me to stay single, anyway. :P I thought that if I made the decision, somehow moments like these wouldn't happen anymore, because the power would be in my hands. Apparently I laboured under a delusion.
I'm going to cut this short. It's making even me sick to my stomach to read this crap. All I really wanted to say was that it would be really nice, just once, if someone were to want me. No frills, no flowers, no chocolate. Just spending the time together, because we want to.
I'm just saying.