Don't get me wrong, it's not a problem, per se, it's just a... burden. Like a pebble in the shoe, or maybe a skirt that's a tad too short, or even that popcorn thingy that gets stuck in the teeth. No world will end, no life will stop because of these issues - but they are issues! One cannot go on for too long without feeling uncomfortable or unfitting while aware of these minor details, but clueless (or helpless) as to what can be done.
Recently - and here's a thought: how recent IS "recent"? - anyway, for time enough to make it become a post, "status: single" has been making itself noticed and me, uneasy. Partying like mad in carefree singledom is nice - it can be fun, it brings friends together (some even get lucky with the togetherness!), it motivates you into knowing new things, new places, trying new food, new clothes, a whole NEW experience. But, fun and play aside - and I won't even bring financial matters to the table - it's tiresome. And when this fatigue kicks in, it's time for "status: needy".
I've been through needy moments. Like drunkness, one is only able to recognise a moment of need when living it. (Oh, wow, just like so many other things...) Because, like the drunk, the needy gets attention, gets noticed and... gets annoying. And it's perfectly fakeable, as well as cult, to shout out in a big party of people that you're going through a needy moment, that you're "depressed", oh-how-could-life-be-this-mean? and so on. Annoying.
But it actually HITS you, for real, it's not to be commented by everyone. It's only a few who can understand. Quick pouring-my-heart-out moment. (And this will be shared because I just thought it was too funny to be kept secret.)
One ordinary afternoon at work, while going over a spreadsheet, I questioned a number. Turned to my superior - that's what people do, at work, when in doubt - and questioned him, searching for reassuring words. He, in turn, says: "Well, that's what you told me." - Me: "But are you sure?" - Him: "I'm sure that's what you told me, darling."
Obs: For the native speakers, that dialogue took place in Portuguese and "darling" was actually "meu amor", which can be used in a variety of different situations, admiting an equal variety of meanings.
Well, darling was all I needed to make my day. Right then and there, I felt special and dear. Nope, no abusive or harrassive tone to it - just plain and simple tenderness was what I felt.
It reassured me, no doubt about it, but it also made me aware of my need for attention and care. Also, of how easy it can be to please someone, with a few words in the right place, at the right time. I'm sure he didn't think of any of this, which only makes it even more endearing - it just comes naturally to some people! ** air hearts **
Now this, especially the "air hearts" part, leads me to something else - has singleness become a beast that needs to be tamed? Do we fear it so much that we're making up tales that will forever keep us from being satisfied and contented with what is available? (Any resemblance to the Sex & the City format is not purely a coincidence.)
So that led to inner dialogue - am I making up tales? Is sparkles, fireworks, butterflies and fate all teen babble? (Are even teens believing that now??) I remember being a teen and looking up at pinned up posters at my wall - people I did not know personally and did not have a chance in hell of knowing before the next three or four reincarnations. So why did I look up to them? Why did they inspire and why did they make me feel I cared about something? (Well, maybe I didn't and only did that to look "normal"... Uhm, a whole new post.)
Fact is, when I was a teen, and knowing I would never meet those people, feelings faded maybe somewhere midway between myself and the wall that hung the poster. And that was that. As the pictures got old, new pictures replaced them. Today, there are no pictures - there are people. Reality check! Feelings do not fade midway between people.
So what I realise is that, maybe due to the tales I've been brewing in my head, I am trying to go back to Platonic loves, when it's ok and even expected to not come close... and it's not cutting it anymore.
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