MM and I broke up just over two month ago now, and it has been around ten days since I last saw RG. And I have got absolutely no desire to contact either one of them although I do sometimes have pangs when I think about the sex RG and I had. It all seems like such a long, long time ago, though. We were only shagging for about three/four weeks, but it feels like we were “together” for months.
Now that I have no men in my life, and no pain/obsessive thinking caused by men, I guess I’m having my own little version of withdrawal. The Delirum Tre-*MENS*, haha! I’m OK, I’m not freaking out or anything. I’ve just gone back to what I usually do, which is hang about at home all by myself, with my menagerie. It’s a very quiet life. This is a good thing (although mind-numbingly boring). I’m not like RG. I can’t go out night after night, drinking and chain-smoking cigarettes. Every time I saw him, I would need two fucking days to recover from all the booze, weed, cigarettes and up-all-night shagging. And this is not just an age thing; I’ve always had a weak constitution (translation: I’ve always been a wuss).
The loneliness is not killing me, but I am definitely aware of a certain emptiness there. On the bright side, this loneliness and emptiness make me feel more creative. Some of my older readers might have noticed that I wrote a LOT more in my previous blog when I was single. As soon as I met MM, I guess I didn’t have as much need to pour out my every most hidden thought and feelings to strangers on the internet. Some people might think that this was a good thing, but I didn’t really. I truly felt that I was more creative when I was single, and blogged more regularly.
All the time I was with MM, I felt like he was some sort of painkilling drug – and, hell, not even a good one! I was never deliriously high from being with MM; our relationship just took the edge off things, but I felt that precisely this made me into a dullard. My whole life could have been described with one word: “meh”. And I’m not blaming MM for this, by the way. Ultimately, I just stayed in a bad relationship with the wrong person for too long even though we were both unhappy. Even though I felt all “meh” and fake calm on the surface, I knew there was a lot of agony and pain swirling about underneath, and I lived in fear of what would happen if MM and I ever broke up.
It was bad, but nowhere near as bad as I thought.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m the kind of person who will always need a little bit of loneliness and emptiness to feel creative. I hated living with MM. Besides the fact that most men are slobs, and I’m usually the one who does the lion’s share of the housework, I just don’t need to see the same person day-in, day-out. It drains me.
Honestly, my ideal relationship would not involve living together at all. I’m not against getting married again per se, but I am against living together. I can’t imagine having a husband and children living with me in the same house. I don’t want to have to be emotionally, physically and spiritually present for other human beings 24/7.
I guess this makes me selfish and means that I’m heading for an old-age of crazy cat lady spinsterhood. But, well, not everybody can be cut out for relationships.