Last night I stood in the middle of a bar as the crowd swarmed around The Animator and myself. Observing others is always interesting, watching who does what and their reactions to surroundings. Catching a couple out of the corner of my eye brought a momentary flashback to what feels like a past life. I watched as one pulled the other close and let the room know that they were together. That’s something I can remember from previous relationships.
It would seem normal to reminisce about missing the feeling of belonging, but the feeling that flooded over me was relief. A sense of satisfaction settling on my mind; I don’t belong to anyone and there’s no need to explain my actions, reactions or decisions. Following this thought around my mind, I traipsed through forgotten memories of former boyfriends. There were the needy guys, the controlling guys, and the obnoxious, sweet and weird guys. Pick a guy and I’ve dated someone that fits the mold.
Lately I’ve been going through ex-boyfriends to ensure I’m happy with the decisions I’ve made. Newbie was the first in this experiment, which happened by chance. It was one night when he drunk dialed me looking for a piece of ass. Upon arriving there was some rolling around under the sheets. It was like being a teenager again: Things were bumpy, awkward and not completely hard. At one point I started to laugh because I could picture how this would end up on virtual paper. He left early the next morning and we haven’t spoken since. I suspect there will be no future encounters unless we bump in to one another in public.
This experiment with ex-boys is a test of my single status. Am I truly single by choice, or is it caused by the bitterness that has been growing over the past ten years? After observing a lot and experimenting a little I’m leaning towards the first, though this is not my final conclusion. It’s almost as if I’m missing the dating gene. Others seek love. I seek coffee. Some people are hoping to get married and have a child. I plan to work until I am forced to retire or die.
The only problem with my single status remaining permanent is that the people around me will eventually fade into the crowd and vanish. Single means just that, in the end you stand at the finish line completely alone. In some oddly comfortable way this does not sound depressing or unusual in my head. Not to say at some point I won’t give in and date some seemingly perfect person that comes along. Though I can guarantee that nothing will out last my ninety-day dating habits.