I AM SINGLE.
“To be someone’s best friend requires a minimum investment of time. More than that, though, it takes emotional energy. Caring about someone deeply is exhausting”. – Malcom Gladwell
The Tipping Point.
It was not so much what she was saying but rather how indifferent I was. I was barely paying attention. I knew I had gotten her to this point and that this particular course of action was inevitable.
I didn’t care .
It was late in the evening and dark.She could not see my smile.
I could have been a passer-by listening to the rant of how much I never called or how busy I always seemed to be or how much stress I had put her through and that the best thing was for me to take a break and not even have someone like her in my life.
“I don’t think you should have a girlfriend. You are not ready.”
I laughed. Literally, I could not hold it anymore. She was smiling as I bent over to digest the statement in my high pitch hilarious laughter. After dumping me, she was actually advising me! How cute!
She then went on to tell me how rude it had been for me to not call her at least once a day. She said she did not need me to see her every day but that at least I could have called or message or something (I noticed she was talking in the past tense, clearly, she was past me).
At this point I almost got worried. I even thought she could have broken through my shield. That maybe after all these years, a lady had finally gotten to my conscience and I was now ready to fall in love (whatever that means).
I just stared. I think I dozed-off a little.
I was not being intentionally impolite. On the contrary, from all intellectual capacity, SHE had figured out the kind of person I was and from all the vibe in our short (2 months) relationship, she had come to the RATIONAL conclusion that she could not bear my bursts of temporal solitude and non-connectivity .
Throughout our relationship, I had looked at every other lady as a sister (seriously) and I had contemplated getting married (vaguely).
Yet another break-up.
Here is the sad part…I am not sad. I am pleased it happened and I get to reconsider my feelings on a host of issues.
One pertinent on is : Love. What is it? And what does it feel like?
I have a family that loves me. Now ,, I fathom. My parents ought to love me. It’s obvious for me because from all indications, they get extremely upset when my well-being is jeopardized. My sisters look up to me and value my judgement. That could, together with other traits, be quantified as love. I fight with my brother everyday but we always end-up calling ‘ unspoken, temporary truces’ now THAT is not love, it’s more than love, it’s a bond forged in blood(figurative, I repeat FIGURATIVE blood), disagreement, fights and battles of opinions. (Thank God it never gets physical…he could totally kick my b*)
The problem I face is with female friends who end up more or less becoming part of my ‘family’. The people I care about, on whom I invest emotional energy, whom I trust ( oh…I do have trust issues too) and who end up giving me the scenario above.
I think I have love issues and I can’t figure out what it all means.
I tend to over-think.
I enjoy people’s personalities over their physical attributes and I am in search of: “The beautiful mind”.
I get bored with dumb people (truly no offense intended …I am very dumb in many fields…trust me…I sometimes wonder how I got through high school math).
I make more intellectual connections than emotional ones. I was chatting with a classmate recently. She had once said she could never go out with me. When I asked her why, she said I was not her type. I then went on further to ask what her type was (uh oh) and then she said:
“I like physically appealing guys”.
It took me all I had to not cry. So, as you can figure, I can’t make physical connections either( Do those even exist?)
Sometimes ,I think I am too smart for my own good. I find it hard to communicate properly my feelings and this is one of the major reasons why I feel I should be a writer. My journalism studies should aid me with this. But then again, I have learned more through my personal studying and experience in order to write than at the department.
I am a walking cry for help and for a while now, I have realized no one seems to listen. Or rather no one CAN listen because I am not particularly clear.
Maybe I don’t even want to be succinct…maybe some cold part of me enjoys the solitude.
Writing the previous sentence feels wrong…I know I don’t want to be alone. I just have to figure out how to be a better person. I know help is on the way and that if I don’t Choose Myself like James Altucher says…well…no one will.
Charity truly begins at home now doesn’t it?
If I want to have friends, I better start being a friend.
Any tips on how to be a better person?