I rarely talk about relationships, ‘the‘ relationship, the S(ignificant) O(ther) kind. About my relationships, or simply the concept of it.
Many reasons lie behind this conscientious choice of a lifestyle. Experience has taught me that those at the other end of ‘relationship talk’ – me, the good listener at your service – have a hard time enjoying it as much as the one that does the talk. Or maybe it’s just me and my incapability to sympathize. The very few times that I have indulged in this national pastime, actual reality has been very harsh to me. Talking about the potential future of a ‘this-might-lead-to-something’ has revealed to be a jinx, and I got the message. So no more, I decided. Relationship-talk often morphs into the worst kind of ‘girl-talk’, where ‘girlfriends’ incite you to build castles in the sky and interpret the slightest hand motion and word in a text into something that is clearly not. Let me be very clear on this : clearly not. Most of all, I don’t want ‘it’ to define who I am and want to have other fun, interesting things to talk about: me as my own person.
This doesn’t mean, unfortunately, that I don’t spend a significant amount of my time thinking about ‘it’. At this point, wondering about ‘the love of my life’ or ‘my soulmate’ is just a waste of time, energy and brain activity. I need those for my studies, which, frankly, are more important than ‘it’. For now, anyways. I am more concerned about ‘my survival’, shall I say. Indeed, as it becomes harder and harder to have your close friends guarantee long-term companionship, whether it is because they, unlike myself, have found the beauty that is love, or because we don’t live in the same places anymore, I can’t help but getting more and more concerned about what could very well be a state of utter solitude and loneliness in the future. And, yes, as much as I do hate people in general, I realize that I, too, mere mortal, can’t survive solely on my own (although most of the time, I sure can) and this worries me.
The idea of having that one person who will always be on your side no matter what (or so it goes, theoretically, if we want to ignore the actual number of break-ups and divorces) has become even more alluring as I realize that there is absolutely no constant in my life (unless you count my undying devotion to FRIENDS). I have no idea what I will do when I finish my degree, where I will go, or sometimes, if I will, indeed finish my degree – in my most frustrating days. And I realize that at my age (I’ll be fucking 40 in just ten years), I should really have had these answers down.
When I was younger, I was set on not getting married because I wanted to have the possibility to knock on every door – I didn’t want ‘my man’ to tie me down as I was sent as ambassador to country A or went on a UN mission to country B. (Yes, I had big dreams, once.)
And it’s ironic how now, I wish I had someone to ‘tie me down’, set some limits as to where I can be and what I can do.
So, so ironic.
And so as I’m sitting, by myself, at the school library, bored and exhausted from reading about democratization failures in Africa, I let my imagination drift, that a single, straight, dashingly good-looking, PhD male student, between the age of 30 and 35, not yet balding, not socially awkward, with the cute kind of nerdiness, will strike up a conversation that will be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Or maybe just a non-weirdo. That will do too.
(OK I could go on but I’m gonna stop now.)