Ever since I stumbled upon this realization that human relationships are the most difficult and traumatizing experiences in the whole dearth of available experiences, I’ve taken an oath to never get into one.
I’m obviously kidding. I don’t know why the fuck I’m single. Like there’s literally no reason for it to be.
But as an avid reader of my own self-awareness, I guess I have some thoughts??
I’ve now come to accept, after a massive 30 years on this whatever strange spherical things we are on (I mean seriously if you take a few seconds out of your busy life and think about it - what the fuck really is earth?), that I’ve never really known love. Yes, I know what you are thinking. Some people are really unlucky in the world. Well fuck you and your pity. But seriously, I love you.
I mean I always knew the idea of love but for a long godforsaken time, I couldn’t feel it. You know, the unconditional kind. That makes you feel strange within yourself. That which makes you question “What in the world is happening to me”. That which remains for a very brief while for most people until it becomes this toxic jumbled mess of emotions and paranoia.
Until one night in winter, I found myself cuddled up with another human, giving and receiving warmth with our naked shells, both metaphorically and literally and I knew in those moments that she gave herself to me, physically and spiritually. She loved me. Unconditionally. At least on those nights. You can’t really capture it into words, so I’ll not try to describe it.
But now, things are different. I’m a drastically changed person. I’m not single out of confusion. Let me remind you that I’m very clear about what I seek in a partner. But the problem is far more bigger. I think I’m late. I’m seeking love in a time when no one can give each other enough time anymore, to make sho who they really are. And as you, my wise friend clearly know, making yourself seen in that rush hour is ultra hard when you are competing against near-perfect archetypes in cyberspace. But then I try, for the other option is the death of the soul.
They say you shouldn’t become confident without first being humbled. That way you have only seen one side of the story. This scares me. What if I’m faking to myself what I want out of love? Maybe my alleged clarity of conscience is hurting me. Maybe I’m clear to the point of impracticality and delusion. Maybe I’m too defined in what I want in a partner. I mean isn’t the point of love to complete someone else? Isn’t love about giving first and receiving second? ( Be careful here, you might be looked down upon and labelled as a people pleaser and not being serious about your well-being first). Welcome to the prime-time show of toxic self-preservation.
I think this is the problem with most people nowadays. Secretly they are in love with an impossible archetype. And when they step out of the house, they see no manifestations. And then they post on Twitter.com things like - “Where are the men who are in touch with their emotions so that I don’t have to babysit a manchild”. I am a man so I’m easily triggered by men's hate. But the same goes for the opposite gender and all the other genders. I mean good luck sister finding someone with that mentality. I’m kidding. Who even am I to sprinkle this empathy?
There are so many factors responsible for my being single that I might delete this draft before publishing it. But wait, didn’t I tell you before how much I love y’ll. You must have fun in my misery together with me.
How do I explain to you dear anon that people who have access to someone to cuddle with after a gruelling day of work have no idea what it feels like to live and grind with an emotional and physical drought? When the side of your queen-sized bed is only inhabited by random things and dust. That I you don’t have care in the world to clean it. And clean it for whom? And to why I almost passionately prevent myself from feeling the full weight of this despair, which is my own emotion, because I have to do a job and earn for myself because my employer doesn’t give two fucks if the abject state of my romantic life is affecting my productivity at work. How can I explain something that I have to constantly avoid to get by?
It feels so funny that at a personal level, this seems like an impossible problem to solve. And to think whether it should even be labelled as a problem, for how can something be a problem when it is coded by nature in the very human condition? Funny because on the one hand, society preaches love, romanticism and whatnot, but on the other hand, it tells you to figure it out yourself. That it just leaves you to fend for yourself. I never thought that I could be irritated by any aspect of romanticism. For a brief while, I thought I was above all this. But it irks me so much when people so casually try to pity someone who hasn’t been romantically lucky. Like all of their achievements doesn’t matter if they couldn’t stumble upon someone to go to bed with. Like they are some sort of losers. This kind of sneaky sneering is just …
I can’t complain much though. When I see my family or the extended family, I see humanoids tied together out of necessity instead not love. I’m at least capable of love, to recognize that it is something beyond the realms of utility and practicality. Something that exists just for the heck of it. Because we can exercise it. Something pure. But then I also think if this life force inside me is going to waste day by day. I don’t know anymore. Do I complain to the gods about why was I brainwashed with this idea that everyone deserves love? If that were true, why didn’t they make it a human right, haa? I’m sure people with loving relationships have a rational argument for this. They always have.
So, what do I do about this crisis? I guess, for the time being, I can be an agent of utility. To be somewhat useful in keeping things going. Things must keep going. I’m sure some people have lived their lives this way. A life not full of love but satisfaction. I guess some people, like me, have no other option but to just consume, create, and correct. I think for people like us, the purpose becomes not one of seeking love but to minimise suffering. Guess there’s a term for this kind of psyop - via negativa.
So, you see? From the axe of my conflicted conscience, I’m really digging a grave for myself in my online neighbourhood. This is completely opposite of what I’ve voiced in this litter corner of the Internet. These are the first accounts of my insecurities (I hope they give me strength by releasing them). But who cares really? If the only purpose that is left is to minimize suffering, I’ll just keep eating good food and meditate my pain away (I know how to do that well).
Sometimes I think things were good when I was wrecked in other ways. I had to expedite so many things within myself that the thought of a life without romance was the least of my concerns. Depression and a life of low esteem were way worse of problems. As I worked on myself, I became confident in myself. And when you are confident and your self-esteem fires, you want to share it with someone. You start craving to be seen in your wins by someone. You start craving the better half of the sinister human tendency called earnest validation. And it sucks when you find out that you need to start a new level of the game. And you are utterly tired.
Now I know why people give in to some sort of delusion. You have worked hard on yourself and become the sort of person that you have been told to be wanted. But after so many trials and tribulations, you finally give up on the prospect of finding another person to share life with. Someone who wants to be with you at the end of a gruelling day. People need projects in life, to look forward to the next day. It’s hard to do it alone relying only on hope and goodwill. Giving into a delusion has at least incremental rewards. Keeps you going somewhere. Keeps you afloat.
I hope you had fun. Before leaving I’ll give you a trick. You can let yourself feel all the feels of life, but when you are alone, you can’t afford the bad parts. No, you can’t dream of becoming that lonely philosopher, artist or whatever that goes underground for a few years and suddenly emerges a generation-defining wave. This is not the age to be someone like that. It doesn’t happen anymore. Well, not completely true. But selling you all the same trite dreams just irks me out of my wits. Sooo, you can’t let life consume you from all sides. Until you have someone to fall back on, you gotta find a direction and keep following it. And repeat. You can’t stagnate in life until there’s someone worth slowing down. I hope to slow down with someone one day.
You write so beautifully Ankit