More relationship stuff

I am put in a mood to write this by the Flibbertigibbet! post linked here, which you may prefer to read before continuing with this post.

I think I knew pretty quickly after my wife and I separated that I would not have any plans for remarriage. I was the one who made the decision to end it, after all.

Since then, there has been one LTR, a couple of semi-LTRs and a couple of one-time-only dates. All but two of those were ended by me. And for most of the time since my divorce, I've been entirely on my own.

I gave a friend a ride the other day, and during the trip, she talked non-stop about the same two or three topics she always talks about non-stop. About five minutes into that drive, it occurred to me: 'This is what I'm missing by not being in a relationship. I may pine for that imaginary ethereal willowy Stevie Nicks/Buddhist/hippie chick who just floats around me with long gauzy gypsy clothes trailing her, but this is what I'm really not having by being alone.'

Real relationships are dreary and a lot of work. People are neurotic. People make often unreasonable demands on your time and your priorities. People expect you to change and adapt. People have crazy beliefs they expect you to embrace. Not only that, but they think you're the neurotic, unreasonable, crazy one, when in fact you're the one who's normal. They may even expect you to give up one or more of your several cats.

I was sitting somewhere the other day – I don't remember where – and a very attractive woman walked by. After noticing she was very attractive, I thought to myself, 'And so? What about it?'

And I realized I didn't want to try to talk to her, didn't want to get to know her, didn't want to flirt with her, didn't want to see her as a buddha, didn't want to do anything except return to my own thoughts.

I guess I've felt that way most of my life.

Plus, on a more pragmatic note, I'm pretty chunky these days. I've had trouble with my weight all my adult life, but the older I get, the harder it becomes to keep it under any semblance of control. I look more and more like the Skipper on "Gilligan's Island." It's not only that I'm fat – I'm also just big. I'm taller than average. And when I find a shirt that fits me through shoulders, the sleeves often reach my knuckles. I personally don't have much concept of my size. I feel like I'm average. I'm aware of how my clothes fit (not well), but I'm always surprised when I see a picture of myself in a group and I look like Baby Huey, or like I was Photoshopped into the picture after the fact and scaled incorrectly.

All of which means you really don't want to see me dressed up as a satyr or gladiator at the Fetish Ball.

A couple of days ago, I put on a cream colored linen blazer over a white, tan and blue Hawaiian shirt and a pair of light blue trousers, topped off with a Panama hat. I thought I looked rather festive and spring-like. Then I saw myself in a picture window. I looked like some seedy American expatriate living in a banana republic in some forties movie. I wouldn't have been the chief bad guy, but the shifty character who gives the hero information he's not sure he can trust, and later turns out out be a minion of the chief bad guy.

He would not have had a willowy ethereal Stevie Nicks/Buddhist/gypsy type floating around him. Late-in-her-career Shelley Winters maybe, with more stomping than floating.