On the Heath

I'm not happy tonight. I don't like the fact that I only seem to blog when I'm unhappy. It gives the blog this theme of angst and lame but usually two things move me to write; absolute disgust or absolute joy.

I've been finding very little of the latter recently so here I am.

I've been stewing about a number of things lately, one of them being my sad love life or complete lack thereof.

I recently found out that a gent that I have LONG admired (read: been borderline obsessed with) has found the girl of his dreams. I'm sorry to report that that girl was not me. Now, I know that I have a very bad habit of only really being attracted to very unavailable guys. If they're ridiculously complicated or live far away or are just plain not good for me they're usually at the top of my list. Why I do this, I don't know. But this particular guy, absent of any real potential between us, gave me hope.

I was reaching disappointment levels with the LDS guys in my immediate sphere of influence that was rivaling the Absolute 0 temperature of space. The majority of them for no menacing reasons, simply bored me. There was little depth, passion, sense of self or grit to any of them. Emotional lawn ornaments if you will.

I realize this is unkind, but know I'm in a pretty foul mood and that gets me more honest than is socially acceptable sometimes. But this is my blog so recognize or piss off.

For me to be attracted a guy needs to be interesting. A wealth of Will Ferrell quotes, video game prowess, having read a few obligatory books and a newsie cap from the 9th grade does not qualify as interesting. I've always said I wanted to marry a convert to the Church or someone that has fallen away and then come back. I've recently realized that I feel that way because I would like a companion with a bit of perspective to him.

This particular gent who has recently coupled up with someone that is not me was, to me, this kind of a guy. He was still very much a guy and played more video games than is probably good for a him. But he was also thoughtful and truly kind and loyal. He went looking for experiences, didn't poo-poo art or feelings. He was honestly good and capable of honest love. I loved him for that. And now hes gone along with most of my hope. I felt that I may have to deal with a bunch of testosterone-deficient sillies here, but because he was still in the world somewhere, that kind of real masculine tenderness was still around, that there was still hope for the rest of us.

I reacted a lot more strongly than I thought I would. The news took couple of days to really settle in but once it did it took me 2 days to stop crying. I know its ridiculous. I realize that 90% of this build up and let down is in my head and that a prolonged everyday encounter with this particular Adonis would reveal that he was just as much of an emotional lawn ornament as I'm currently dealing with. This information is ready and at the forefront of my fluff-for-brains. However it doesn't comfort me at all. This isn't a logic problem and never was. This is a heart issue and mine is unusually large, tender, gullible and bruises easily. It is very much like my 2 year old self that wouldn't stay inside where it was safe and warm and frequently ran out into the snow sans shoes just because I wanted to be there and it seemed like a more interesting place to be. The balm of logic has no sway over gaping wounds of the heart and never will.

I theoretically know that what he was to me, what I was truthfully in love with, was an idea that he well embodied. Its precisely this that makes him so much of a greater loss. He's not just another man married and gone; its my belief in a good one. In a brave one. In a tender one. In a real man. I have been failed by every single one I've encountered so far.

I feel very lost, disappointed and bored with everything around me. Especially myself.

I don't like it at all but this disillusionment has diffused into every corner of my life. I find myself totally stripped of any cushion of idealism that I had before. I seem to have put it all away and are seeing the hard ugly edges on everything; my academic life, my career, my past, my future, my family - everything.

The sad truth is that the world is pretty ugly cold place. Some people get to go through it with someone and some don't. There are moments of beauty, flashes of warmth and real connection. I still cherish those and recognize them for what they are. They are the flowers that grow between the rocks.

But the rocks remain rocks and my thin skin tears easily.