Debriefing At the End of another Love Affair
So, here I am.
Not quite again, though I can’t quite say why.
It’s different this time, at least I think so. But not the premises, it seems as though they’re always the same:
First I’m unfulfilled but lack the will to precipitate change; the grass seems much greener everywhere. Then, as luck would have it, change takes place but regret quickly sets in. It isn’t grass, just cheap green carpeting; shag from the seventies. And I’m alone, very much alone, facing the inner me who always disagrees and who once again is saying he told me so. Of course, … he would have said that no matter what I’d done. And I’m bored, oh so very, very bored.
I’m not desperate, not like that Thanksgiving when Vicky left, then Susan showed up, I got the flu and for some reason, the only food I had was a saccharine-brownie-disaster and water. What great inspiration that should have been for a country music hit or maybe even an album by Barry Manilow; but then, I wasn’t really into writing just then. Now at least suffering serves a deeper purpose, inspiration, and maybe if I suffer enough I’ll get rich enough to rent all the happiness I can handle, perhaps even lease some on a long term basis.
I’m not desperately seeking to fill the void with wildly unfulfilling sex like I did when Vicky left for good, but I’m also not calm, happy and at peace, like I was when Cyndi and I finally split; this is different. Perhaps because I’m so far away from friends; but that can’t be right, I’ve broken up with women here several times already. I’m alone, again, but this time, I’m lonely, really lonely. And I’m bored, oh so very, very bored.
Will I be wiser next time (assuming there is a next time), will I be honest and really look for the one I want, the one I need, and let her know what those needs are? Will I be communicative, not expecting her to read my mind? Will I be honest with myself and finally insist on the things I expect, rather than merely resenting the fact I don’t get them. Will I stop trying to be the ultimate giver and acknowledge that in feminine equality there’s a corresponding right to be a giver too? How many almost perfect women can one person run through in a lifetime? Will I ever find the perfect one and if so, manage not to lose her? I was sure I’d found her this time, but, I’m alone, again, and lonely, very lonely. And I’m bored, oh so very, very bored.
Not a fertile ground for patience and good decisions right now, but then, let’s face it, I’m always preaching about the value of true discipline; not the harsh simulacrum most people think they understand, but the quiet inner discipline that tells us the time’s not right and grants us the strength do what we know we should no matter how much we want to take an easier path.
Will I be wise enough to harken to its echoes? I hope so, but, …
I’m alone, again, and lonely, very lonely. And I’m bored, oh so very, very bored.
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2011; all rights reserved