Bridgett had commented on my last post about remembering and, once in a while, craving alone time in her married life. The kind of alone time she'd labeled loneliness in her single life. Here is my story as a singleton on why I feel that being single is so bittersweet.
Eight months after breaking up with a waste of three years' time (also, my first relationship as an adult), I started seeing a guy from high school that I liked. At this point, he and I were out for 5 and 4 years, respectively. In school, he liked me, but thought I hated him. I liked him, but acted as indifferent toward him as I could because my sister liked him and she always felt as if I were stepping on her toes when it came to guys. After being together (only on weekends, at my request because I worked the 9-5/M-F thing and was tired often as I had not yet been diagnosed with hypothyroidism) for a month, I realized that something wasn't right. He's the male counterpart of me, but I just wasn't feeling what I felt I should have been feeling, you feel me?
So, I broke it to him as gently as I could and, unintentionally, put it in the worst way possible: It's not you, it's me. So cliche', but, in this instance, so the truth! It still kills me that I didn't feel as strongly as he did. But having my single life back, living by myself, growing up in ways I am proud of, but that have made me a little hermit-like and everyday make the probability of my dying a spinster greater, these are the things I needed. I realized that I needed to be single. I realized that I was more content in silence, by myself, soul searching and meditating than I was even sitting in silence with someone there. At the time, it just wasn't going to work. I'll probably never have a chance with that guy again. Sure! We're still friends, but I don't want to take that chance of hurting him again, and I don't want him to miss out on someone who can appreciate all of the love, compassion and companionship he is able and all too willing to give. The fact that he wants kids someday makes it easier for me to let him get away, but it's still frustrating. Frustrating in the respect that, other than the kids issue, he was into everything I adored! He was invited to our family Christmas Eve party the year it was themed "Victorian Civil War." He dressed to the nines like the rest of us. Acted the "part" and had a great time! Not once did he shy away from our "Victorian dance," entertainment, conversations and general fun time. My Alzheimer's grandmother adored him! She found him attractive and a nice gentleman to speak to. He was always genial, kind, thankful and respectful of everyone there! Before this party, before we started seeing each other, I mentioned Faerie Con and my spiritual path and my love of anime and all of my otaku ways. He hung on every word! He asked questions. He was genuinely interested and intrigued and wanted to learn more. I told him I would teach him all I could. I told him he could borrow any of my books. He wanted to go to the convention with me!
Then we broke up.
But he still went. He still had a great time! He drove. He wore costumes that we had designed for him together. One was for the Good Faeries Ball. It was a pair of ill-made (but he wore them anyway) brown pants made to look torn; something only a mischievous fae would wear. The top was our own creation; dreamt up by him, patterned and sewn by me. It consisted of large "leaves" of various greens to make up a vest. The bits over the shoulders to hold it on were smaller "leaves" and it was tied together by a length of rope dyed deep green. He also dyed a pair of lycra gloves and we cut them to look like vines crawling up his forearms. To those, we attached silk ivy leaves. He also brought temporary hair dye for his facial hair (including his eyebrows) and head! Every other guy I've ever known would never create/wear something as creative or faerie-like as he had! And he enjoyed every minute of it! At least, he seemed to; I never knew otherwise. His other outfit was for the Bad Faeries Ball and was far less complicated. A "torn-up" tunic top with the same pants as before. I also made him a scull cap from a stretchy, lycra/polyester that had a vinyl shell looking like scales. He loved it! Although, later in the evening, he had to take it off as it was getting way too hot. He did his face as dark and gruesome as he could, but still faerie-like.
He's an amazing guy. That is the bitter part of being single. Remembering the loves you had, or those you were so good with, yet, it just wasn't happening because that's not where your life was meant to go just yet. We already know the sweet part. And sweet it is! Yet, yes, Bridgett, I share those lonely moments with your former self. Winter is a tough season for singletons. But we will persevere and get through, just as we do every Winter!
You know, I argued with my 9th grade English teacher when we were reading Shakespeare. He brought up the old saying: "'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." He agreed with it, being in his mid to late-forties, divorced and had a child with the woman, he'd had time to think about it. I disagreed, having never been in love (love love, not the puppy-dog, obsession kind you go through with puberty), and never really knowing what the big deal about guys was.
Throughout that three-year stint with a manchild, I would go back to that thought and think, "I still disagree!"
After breaking it off with said manchild because I deserved better than an "open relationship" (because that is just not my style), I would vehemently fight anyone on that saying!
Now, having been so close to perfection, yet having to let it go, I'm on the fence. I can't say I agree with it, yet. Then again, I don't always disagree anymore.