Mirages and movie dates

I want to talk about love. The only time I've ever thought I loved a man, whatever that means, he was defending himself telling me it was my expectations that were doing my head in, not him. He was right and he was wrong. Someone kicking you in the ribs telling you that your expectations about not getting kicked in the ribs are the source of your pain and angst denies their very active role. But he was right in recognizing my inability to reconcile what was going on with us had a lot to do with my expectations, not just of him but of relationships and love. After years of turning that stone smooth around in my head, I decided that relationship could have been everything I ever thought I wanted and more but it didn't mean it had to last. It was how I reconciled what was so very real for me with the dissonant outcome that had me doubting my judgement and ability to recognize what was or was not happening in a relationship.

So here we are, 2011 and the notion of never being married is starting to settle in my head and it's not a bad thing. I don't dream about being swept off my feet--ok, I do still actually dream that sometimes--but it isn't something I believe exists outside the vacuum of my imagination. I don't think I would trust being swept off my feet anyway. I don't want to be swept away, intoxicated in hormonal, reason-stealing stew. I don't want to have something I'm terrified of losing. That's not just in love but in life. So this guy I'm going to a movie with today, I care what he thinks in the sense I don't want him to think I'm ugly but I'm not hoping for butterflies or attraction. I don't need the distraction. I don't want the distraction. I don't want to be vulnerable to anyone's whims. I don't want to approach any situation in love or in life with any sense of idealism because the ideal is a mirage. A reflection of the tired thirsty hope of paradise projected into the desert.