It’s Like My Heart Is Getting Hard

Only a few weeks ago I was talking about how awesome it is to date a handful of people at once. I extolled the virtues of flitting from one tangle to another, and now here I am, about to tell you all that, well, I’m not dating anyone. I’m not fucking anyone. I haven’t even got a crush on anyone. That isn’t to say that previous post was a lie, it’s just that I wrote it a month or so ago, forgot to post it, and then while sifting through my drafts found it, and popped it up on the site.

As someone who writes about sex and relationships being utterly dateless is an odd thing to be. I reactivated my OkCupid profile to see if that would throw out any good chances, but the only messages I got said stuff like “R U DTF?” and “You have a surprisingly sexy top lip.” which hardly inspired me to reply. I rifled through my contacts to see if there was anyone who would want to have a tumble, but since having a purge of ‘people I might call while drunk’ it is was horribly bare. There was even a long night where I tried to think if I fancied anyone I followed on Twitter, but even then I came up with a blank.

I guess, if I wanted a one night stand, I could get one of those: I know how that whole rigmarole works. And despite what I said about my contacts book being a little bare there are always a few people I know would be up for a casual bit of sex on the side, but I don’t want it. I’m sure we’ve all had that feeling after coming out of a long term relationship when we suddenly think of all the mouths and genitals out there that are for the taking, and that wild abandon with which we finally re-enter the dating pool, well imagine that in reverse. I’ve been single for long enough to be a little bored of it. I still love the chase, that delicious time between locking eyes with someone attractive across a room, to the moment you’re alone and ripping each other’s clothes off, but after that it all gets a little rote.

Adding to this feeling is the fact that I’ve been rather ill lately, and while friends and family do what they can, I am loathe to call on them when what I really want is someone to feed me cake, rub my sore joints, and spoon with me. Fuck buddies are great, they scratch an itch you can’t reach yourself, but sometimes what you need is a bowl of soup, and they just can’t provide that without things moving to another level. I appreciate everything they do but if I’d wanted to step things up a bit, I would have done that already.

Now I’m faced with a dilemma? Do I want a relationship? Maybe? A relationship is work, effort, time, money; all things I am rather scarce of lately. A relationship is scary, there’s that feeling of putting myself out there in someone else’s hands and saying “Be careful with me!”. There are things I can and can’t do when I’m with someone else, compromises to be made. This is all sounding so mercenary, and of course I believe in the transformative power of love which makes all of this seem bathed in golden light and as fun as playing on the swings, but I don’t think I can hunt out a relationship in the aggressive way that my age and women’s magazines dictate I should when these kinds of feelings arise.

What I want, more than a relationship, is the ability to be ill, get through being ill, and being ill making me miserable, and being miserable making me want a partner to magically make things better, and get through these things alone, so that I can one day appreciate that piece of cake and two hours of spooning, in full.

Photo by Leslie Kirchhoff and screencap from Twin Peaks. 

Title taken from an exchange on Arrested Development:
GOB: My God, what is this feeling?
Michael: Well, you know the-the feeling that you’re… that you’re feeling is-is what many of us call ‘a feeling.’
GOB: But it’s not like envy, or even hungry.
Michael: Could it be love?
GOB: I know what an erection feels like, Michael. No, it’s the opposite. It’s… it’s like my heart is getting hard.