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jamesqI'm turning 50 in a few days - two-thirds done, I guess. That gives me an opportunity to reflect upon my life. I hate reflecting on my life.
I sometimes think of an alternate life - one where I found love early that was lasting. Where instead of looking at my 50th birthday as evidence of a long prison sentence, I'm instead celebrating a 25th wedding anniversary - imagine, 25 years of happiness! I long for that life instead, and fervently wish it had occurred. Of course wishing for a different past is utterly pointless, so my imagining this other life turns to mourning opportunities lost.
It really does feel like mourning. I'm lamenting opportunities that withered and died on the vine, though truth be told, there weren't that many opportunities. My relations have always been rare and short. There's something about me that simply turns women off. Could be my looks, could be my weight, could be my personality. Hell, maybe I just cannot date someone without seeming creepy - I do know that even my attempts to not be creepy end up being creepy in the opposite direction. Like, in trying not to stare at someone, I end up never making eye-contact at all. Or in an attempt to not make off-colour jokes, I end up coming off stiff and stand-offish.
I figured, being old + fat + ugly, was a guarantee to never have romance. I can't do much about ugly, but I figured if I could eliminate two out of three, at least I'd have a chance. Of course, now that I'm 50, the old part has finally arrived, and the fat remains with me, despite 10+ years at Weight Watchers. I guess I'm stuck with them all. I'll stick with WW though, because I don't want to get heavier, and at least it's prevented that.
On those rare occasions where some woman has decided to try me out for awhile, I've always been found wanting. That hurts, but it's not exactly unexpected.
A few years ago, I came to the realization that it simply wasn't going to happen again. Since getting even a short-term romantic partner was basically random chance (my efforts never had anything to do with what little dating success I've had), I should just give up. And I've tried to make peace with that. I tell myself that it's OK to be alone. That no woman was interested in being the target of my affections, so do them a favour and just... not. I haven't made peace with it; I can tell that because simply writing this out is physically painful. Still, I have to keep trying, because my options are basically: A) Be OK with it. B) Don't be OK with it. and the latter is a recipe for endless suffering.
Someone reading this will no doubt give me all kinds of dating advice. I'm sorry, I just don't have the spoons for it. There will come a day when I've simply had enough rejection, and I'll be done. I need that mental energy to keep myself from falling into depression, I simply don't have enough to waste tilting at this particular windmill.
I deeply value the friendships I have. But most of the people I know are in relationships, so I'm always going to be a secondary consideration for them. Still, it will have to be enough.
(in case anyone decides I'm being some MRA-POS "nice guy". At no point in this essay have I even hinted that this was the fault of the women out there. Nope, it's all on me.)
I sometimes think of an alternate life - one where I found love early that was lasting. Where instead of looking at my 50th birthday as evidence of a long prison sentence, I'm instead celebrating a 25th wedding anniversary - imagine, 25 years of happiness! I long for that life instead, and fervently wish it had occurred. Of course wishing for a different past is utterly pointless, so my imagining this other life turns to mourning opportunities lost.
It really does feel like mourning. I'm lamenting opportunities that withered and died on the vine, though truth be told, there weren't that many opportunities. My relations have always been rare and short. There's something about me that simply turns women off. Could be my looks, could be my weight, could be my personality. Hell, maybe I just cannot date someone without seeming creepy - I do know that even my attempts to not be creepy end up being creepy in the opposite direction. Like, in trying not to stare at someone, I end up never making eye-contact at all. Or in an attempt to not make off-colour jokes, I end up coming off stiff and stand-offish.
I figured, being old + fat + ugly, was a guarantee to never have romance. I can't do much about ugly, but I figured if I could eliminate two out of three, at least I'd have a chance. Of course, now that I'm 50, the old part has finally arrived, and the fat remains with me, despite 10+ years at Weight Watchers. I guess I'm stuck with them all. I'll stick with WW though, because I don't want to get heavier, and at least it's prevented that.
On those rare occasions where some woman has decided to try me out for awhile, I've always been found wanting. That hurts, but it's not exactly unexpected.
A few years ago, I came to the realization that it simply wasn't going to happen again. Since getting even a short-term romantic partner was basically random chance (my efforts never had anything to do with what little dating success I've had), I should just give up. And I've tried to make peace with that. I tell myself that it's OK to be alone. That no woman was interested in being the target of my affections, so do them a favour and just... not. I haven't made peace with it; I can tell that because simply writing this out is physically painful. Still, I have to keep trying, because my options are basically: A) Be OK with it. B) Don't be OK with it. and the latter is a recipe for endless suffering.
Someone reading this will no doubt give me all kinds of dating advice. I'm sorry, I just don't have the spoons for it. There will come a day when I've simply had enough rejection, and I'll be done. I need that mental energy to keep myself from falling into depression, I simply don't have enough to waste tilting at this particular windmill.
I deeply value the friendships I have. But most of the people I know are in relationships, so I'm always going to be a secondary consideration for them. Still, it will have to be enough.
(in case anyone decides I'm being some MRA-POS "nice guy". At no point in this essay have I even hinted that this was the fault of the women out there. Nope, it's all on me.)
