A flood gate of sorts has opened this afternoon, leading me to contemplate my whole approach to companionship. I have, up until this point, held a train of thought that bound me to solitude. I guess this was the case because I feel myself a penitent. I have carelessly relationshipped, and now, I have only rubble in my wake. Not all of that is my fault, but I was certainly no help in saving anything. You who have been here know I have always embraced my failures in my relationships while partners simply avoid the duty. Jax straight up said I was the problem and Amanda won’t really talk about why I broke up with her. I like being able to discuss things reasonably, but none of the people I have dated have come even close to being able to do so consistently. I have settled, time and time again, or been simply misled, but I have always tried to set a proper course and effusively give my love to those I choose to let into the inner circle.

Something was always missing though. It always started out with the spark of interest, but it quickly faded and the two went their own independent directions. What I truly need is someone who has enough in common with me to share a great deal of passion, while being independent enough to have time alone with separate activities unique to differing personalities.

Right now I just stopped this whole thought. Who the fuck am I to be setting the standard for any sort of companionship? I have squandered every chance I’ve gotten, and yet that entitles me to set the terms of the next possible engagement at significantly higher levels than before? It’s this sort of presumptuous bullshit that gets me into trouble. I haven’t even met anyone yet, and I’ve already got a fucking prenuptial written up. I truly piss myself off sometimes.

What is needed is an approach that focuses on the true supplicant, me. I have so much work to do to earn a place of meaning in the world, and tonight is indeed a good place to start. However, I should have no terms, no preconditions. All the planning and formulating I have done to this point has all been for nothing. None of it ever amounted to success or anything at all. Time to start counting on the spark of instinct, impulse and chemistry. There needs to be a poof, a bam bam… something to ignite the engine of interest. We have to wonder why. We need the desire to unpack the mystery of another, and to do so, one needs to be worth unpacking. The activity requires a great deal of time, and consistency. The whole thing right now seems so surrealistically out of this dimension that it is not even possible to contemplate the thought of grasping it.

Why?

I doubt anyone I am going to meet anytime soon has any desire to unpack me. I’m going to go out there and be proud as fuck like I always am, but inside I know that the core that is good and wonderful in me is buried under a fetid, rotten rind that may be too repulsive to endure for so little a reward. What, are you going to voluntarily subject yourself to a lifelong sexually transmitted disease? Are you going to affiliate yourself with someone who can become psychotic during elevated emotional moments? Are you really going to watch the meds wreak havoc on his acne-scarred, mutilated body?

The two things I have left to give are my time and my attention. I will give that attention to those who need it the most, who yearn for someone to care about them, much the way I pine for someone to do the same for me. I know how good it felt to have someone so passionately interested in me that it lit up my world as though the sun had doubled in size. Even if I don’t love anyone else that way again, I can still care about my clients. One-on-one, I can be effective as a caregiver and I will continue to pursue that path towards meaning. I have served myself my whole life. My passions, lusts, at whoever’s expense. I’ve ruined worlds, and walked away from brightly burning bridges. I know now that I have a fate tied to pride, and a soul that aches to be redeemed.

I may be at this journey by myself for the rest of my life, and I need to be prepared for that to be the highest probability outcome. I don’t honestly think that despite my curious brilliance, I have too many detrimental flaws to ever keep anyone gravitationally bound who flew into my solar orbit. I do think the human being that I am is a pretty cool human being, but what I think doesn’t count for much and is also biased. Getting someone else to believe how fucking rad I am is the heart of the challenge I face.

Well blog, digging up those old pictures has really brought a lot of stuff flooding back, and caused me to be introspective about the prospect of ever loving a woman again. I have so much love inside me, just stored up like 10,000 barrels of wildfire, waiting for a flame to ignite their explosive potential. I want to incinerate you in the blinding, unstoppable inferno of my love. Too much?