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Maybe I Missed The Boat

A little over 20 years ago I was in a relationship that wasn't a great one but I settled for it anyway, because I thought perhaps it wouldn't get any better.

"Maybe this is as good as it gets?", I thought to myself.

I loved, surely -- but I wasn't entirely happy. Something was always missing, yet I stuck with it due to fear of being alone and because of a sense of duty and loyalty. Then we had kids -- the most wonderful gifts -- and despite being unhappy and unfulfilled I kept with it.

Now that relationship has been officially over for three years now and I still haven't met anyone that makes my heart skip a beat.

I've been on a grand total of three dates in that time, while she's on her, oh I don't know -- 10th boyfriend? I'm not keeping score, though, and I really don't mind.  It's her life, and her choices.  Good for her.  For me, however, it just amplifies my loneliness a bit.  It's like there is this incessant buzz of a giant neon sign with a red arrow pointing at me saying "Lonely Guy Here".

I've been thinking lately and wondering if there is just One Great Love out there for everyone -- just one single perfect match for each one of us. True love, soul mates, whatever you wish to call it.

An optimist would say I just haven't met her yet, and I will someday.

The pessimist in me is beginning to worry that maybe I may have already met her, but our paths didn't cross at the right time in either of our lives. Maybe we were just two ships passing in the night, en route to other life adventures, but not to our shared Great Adventure of true love.  Maybe we were friends or coworkers or perhaps complete strangers who simply shared a smile during a brief moment.  Maybe she was the One for me, and I for her -- but for whatever reason the universe didn't put us together.

If I'm honest it really seems the pessimist is shouting in my ear the loudest these days. I'd really love to prove that bastard wrong.

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Yesterday

I don't know what to say.  I've started this post several times now, writing at least the beginning of the opening sentence only to delete it and stare at the blank screen.  I'm actually at a loss.

I go through this writer's block once in a while, but rarely when I want to write.  It's usually when I would like to be writing but can't think of anything, so I find something else to do and just press on with life.  These days I almost feel compelled to write, but today nothing of substance is coming out and it is getting frustrating.  My writing balls are rather blue right now, if you will pardon the crude imagery.

I guess I can talk about my day yesterday.  I had a great day.  The kind of day I will remember for a while, and the memory of which will help light darker days that may come for me in the future.

I was able to help a wonderful, smart, kind, and talkative(!) little boy by just being there for him.  I won't go into the circumstances of why he may …

Thank you sir, may I have another?

I came to a realization today.  I think I may be a bit masochistic by nature.  Of course, I'm sure I can also be a bit sadistic as well, but that is another story for another time.

I don't know if I am punishing myself for some unknown, subconsciously committed atrocity, or if I just self-inflict pain to periodically reassure myself I am still alive.  Not physical pain, mind you.  No, the pain I submit to falls squarely within the mental and emotional arena.  For some reason, I keep putting myself in situations which ultimately end up causing me varying levels of emotional or mental pain.

Let's see if I can come up with a couple of examples, and unfortunately for you, dear reader, I am going to have to be a bit brutally honest about myself:

I'm not happy with my physical appearance, and I haven't been for a long, long time -- like since-I-was-a-small-child long time.  No matter what I do, I can't get to the point where I would like to be.  When I look in the mi…