When I was in Charlotte, B and I stopped by a friend of his’s house and hung out for a while. She is a mother of two living with her boyfriend and kids in an apartment. While we were there I observed her and her boyfriend. They were kind of a typical couple in many ways. Comfortable with each other. Somewhat normal, as far as that kind of thing goes.
A certain realization came to me, looking at them and then looking at myself, that I might not ever find another “relationship”. Not because I would prefer to play the field and have my fun, which is in fact not the case. But because I am so fucking weird and consumed by complications and irritations, that I do not think that there is any person who would ever be entirely comfortable with me, nor would I be entirely comfortable with them in an “intimate” “relationship”. I’m not talking about liking every little thing about me or my personality – no one has that 100%. I’m talking about comfort, that is, the ease of being together even when you’re sad, mad, disappointed, etc. It’s so cliché but I really do just want that one man out there who would really understand me. Someone who would know what I need from him and could provide, or at least say what he couldn’t provide. Someone who would be tolerant of all the little neuroses and intricacies that make me me. Someone with whom I would have an understanding about things like sex, time apart, time together, household issues, family matters. Someone who would get a little bit of joy out of having me figured out. And someone I would feel the exact same towards. Someone that I would like so much and would like me so much that we’d be the most good looking thing ever to each other.
It’s a lot to ask for, I know.