You see it every day. Everywhere. It’s all around you. People bonded together by attraction, by friendship, by “love”.
Even in my trip to the supermarket I can’t escape it. The young boyfriend chasing his girl down the pasta aisle in a strange game of tag. The father with a kid in the trolley and two little girls on either side. The husband and wife tag-teaming the Shop ‘N Go.
And I can’t help but feel envious.
I want what they’ve got.
It shouldn’t be that hard right? When it comes down to it, we are animals. Our primal instinct is to find a mate and reproduce, to raise our young and to make sure our DNA lives on. I know that takes the romanticism out of it, but that’s essentially why we have couples in the first place.
Not forgetting the fact that God or whoever makes us feel damn lonely without a partner of some sort.
I’m sorry if this post sounds cynical – because it is. It sounds desperate, maybe even a little psychotic. At first I hesitated to broach the topic, but the writer inside me knew I had to transcribe what was on my mind in order to free myself. So here I am, letting go, hoping I don’t damage anyone in the process.
This is coming from a guy who has never loved before. I’ve loved family, friends, even animals. But never the kind of love you find in a Julia Roberts rom-com on the shelves of the local United Video. While I’ve written previously about not giving a fuck about other’s opinions, love is damn scary and a greater hurdle than most.
All my life I’ve struggled to form friends let alone ones of the female variety. At high school I would’ve rather dug my eyes out than look a girl in the face. Thankfully I still retain my vision today albeit 20/20. I did manage to improve over the years, though not enough to go asking someone out on a date. I’ve contemplated it, more than once. I’ve had crushes like every other bloke, but the thought stays inside, never eventuating into action. I know there’s nothing to be scared of. Rejection is a normal part of life. If they say “no” then simply go about your business. No harm, no foul. If you don’t try you’ll never know what could’ve happened.
But there’s a part of my brain that tells me it is the scariest thing in the world. That there’s no coming back from it. That it’s the equivalent of crossing a tight rope suspended over an active volcano.
Now while that feels good to get off my chest it doesn’t entirely solve the problem. My love life (or lack thereof) still needs addressing. I guess the first step is finding the location to meet new people. Girls ain’t going to come to your door — that is unless you’ve solicited a lady of the night.
You see folks on TV meeting at a bar. You hear of young teenagers finding romance at a party. Where are the stories of relationships forming at the library? The local bridge club (not that I’m a member)? They don’t exist as far as I’m aware.
And how does one initiate said contact? I wouldn’t know how to flirt if Cupid himself struck me with a dozen arrows.
I’ve still got some years left on the old clock, though I know looking to the future is never a good idea. “Man plans. God laughs.”
However magical the life of a bachelor might seem. It’s not. It’s absolutely not.
If I decide to keep waiting for someone to drop out of the sky, I’m going to continue waiting forever. I need to take action. I need to take ‘a risk’.
The word risk is as pleasing to me as the word “injection”, or “ironing”, or “spinach”. I’d rather live without it.
But if it means ending eternal loneliness and embracing a whole new side of life, ‘risk’ is the one pill I need to swallow.