Lucky in love

Someone dear to me finally met someone special. Not just special for a night at Eyedrum and a 6-pack of PBR (so to speak) but special in that way that she tells me she DREAMED him into existence, someone who so fits your every corner that you finally UNDERSTAND, in a sense, what ‘all the fuss is about’. This was after a long awful dry spell in the realm of Eros, some of which contained its share of tortured dead-ends and weird portents. When S. finally showed up, I was so glad…

I even told another single friend who so long has also been single this story of triumph, as a sign of hope.

Not good enough hope.

I don’t know what happened. She won’t even talk to me, or really anybody. Not even sure when and how it happened, the split from this person. I’m sure I’ll find out eventually and have to figure out how to measure out the proper doses of shock, dismay, and outrage – if warranted. But underlying that for me is the anguish of this worst sort of loss – this solitude, that so many damned people seem to live in. so while I simultaneously feel blessed and lucky in love through having large access to one I so adore, I despair of the many I know who don’t and wonder WHY? HOW IS IT POSSIBLE? What is wrong w/ you ppl? Like Janis Joplin says “half the world is still crying, and the other half is still crying too and they just can’t get it together”

I dunno. I’m just sad for my friend, and for all those out there like her, unable to form partnerships. It’s like a fundamental membrane in human relating has been severed, never to be recovered. I pray they all find union.

work me lord

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One thought on “Lucky in love

  1. We, like many species in the animal kingdom, are made to travel in packs. We need others to feel connected, to feel whole, to feel protected. That’s why we’re always searching, searching, searching for companionship, for that special someone who we can “hitch our wagon” to. But: we must also understand that ultimately it’s just us. We come into this world alone, and alone we leave it. Some of us are fortunate to find the perfect “other,” but as the word indicates, it’s still an “other.” We can’t control it. We can’t guarantee it. Let us not cry over what could have been, or what we’ve missed out on, or even over what we’ve lost; let us rejoice instead on being alive, on the possibilities ahead, on our ability to dream. Above all, let us be hopeful and learn to rely on our own abilities and gifts.

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