I’m all alone once again

I’ve done it. The split was pain-free, albeit confusing for both of us, and I feel a mixture of relief and sadness. She was sweet, kind, caring and sympathetic on the phone – qualities I yearn to find in people, in girlfriends. Therefore, I’m now sitting here pondering the following question:

 WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAVE I DONE?

I’m trying to console myself in logic. I do not fancy her enough sexually. I do not have any time over the next 6 months to really, wholeheartedly, give myself over to someone; I am too busy, and it would be wrong to pretend otherwise. I have a big problem with her friends, none of whom I like, and also her background. I knew almost immediately that she wasn’t “the one” and, given my work commitments, there is absolutely no point in wasting her or my time in a relationship that I can’t give my soul over to.

But, still, I’m worrying about the impending lonliness of singledom. On the other hand, it will be fun going out and meeting new people again – maybe even finding Her, or trying to. There is a sense that I’m back to square one, and I need to tell myself that it was me who decided to split with her and it’s me who has to be satisfied with the decision.

Relationships are painful at every stage.

I’m not attracted to her

That’s basically the problem. I didn’t even want to go down on her the other night; I just wanted to sleep. This is completely wrong and I need to end it.

In fear of fear; in fear of myself

I have to do something tomorrow. It’s a nice something, a fortunate thing which many in this world would never have the opportunity to do. I can’t write about it here – this is an anonymous blog – as I’ll give the details away but, as is my constant and unending fear of living, the special something has been threatening to flip upside down into a nightmare prospect.

Happily I’m quite convinced it won’t; I almost feel in control. Given my ridiculously busy life at the moment I’ve not even had a chance to worry about it – idle minds give the devil far too much room to cause a mess. So here I am, unable to sleep, pondering my extraordinary life – one in which I’m almost on the verge of becoming relatively famous in my field. And I’m asking myself “what the hell am I doing?”

I sometimes trot out that old cliche “good things come to those who wait” but it’s the most flawed of expressions. I don’t know anyone who has sat around waiting for life to pass him by who is remotely happy. I used to, and I was not happy. Pushing yourself, really testing yourself (whatever that might mean, or be) is the only way forward. It’s painful, stressful, tiring, depressing and even liable to cause a few breakdowns on the way…but, at some point, you reach a peak and can look down on (and back at) the lows with a degree of satisfaction. And I suppose I’m doing that tonight. My only fear about tomorrow is the fear I have always had: what will people think of me? Why are they looking at me like that?

I fear myself and I fear fear itself. Yet I never fear the future.

Itching to break free

I’m trapped. Only been with her a few weeks and already feel suffocated by her longing to be with me. I need time alone. I am not comfortable spending every waking hour with her; I’m not going to go and see her after work every day and, if I don’t, I’m not going to be made to feel guilty. Actually that last bit is wrong, she never makes me feel guilty.

The problem is I see her looking into my eyes and, although there is a guilty pleasure in knowing you have an effect on someone, I just don’t feel the same. I don’t find her attractive enough and I really am digging myself the biggest hole imaginable. It’s a situation I cannot believe I am in; why can’t I just find her attractive? Why am I so fussy?

The other part of me urges my instinct. There is no sympathy in these situations: if I’m not happy, I cannot be with her just for the sake of pleasing her. That’s wrong and hurtful for both of us. But now-and-again I think “oh but you’re so caring, so sweet. You even understand me. People don’t often understand me” before the devil on my other shoulder says “yes but you don’t want to rip her clothes off and bury your head in her nether regions, kiss her for a week and nibble on her neck”. I do all those things while at the same time thinking about someone else.

Wrong. I’m wrong. I need to stop it. Sexual attraction is the most fundamental, primal urge and is what relationships are based upon (in Western society certainly. I’m aware relationships and “love” in Eastern parts is different and, in some places, revolves more around earning respect for one another. Not necessarily mind-blowing orgasms.)

Without that, we are nothing. I am nothing.