December 7, 2010

  • this conversation is over.

    My previous entry came true, just not quite the way I expected.

    Look, I'm not going to lie here; I'm incredibly disappointed. It's been a really long time since I've felt that strongly about someone, and now the harsh reality of life and distance is that I'm expected simply to move on. I don't sugarcoat anything here, and I'm not going to start now. Am I supposed to be angry, mad, upset? Maybe, but I'm not. When someone is honest and straightforward with me (even after a delay), I can't help but forgive and move on. It's just the way I'm wired, and this is no exception. I gained a great friend and someone who came through for me during a time where I desperately needed someone to sit quietly and listen to me pour my heart out, and to me there's really no higher quality I search for than someone who is instantly loyal. I think that in itself is what makes this so difficult. 

    But life trudges on, and so do I. The boy of two or three years ago would sit and mope, writing sad words and letting endless hours pass with nothing but silence and wasted thoughts. The new man is still guilty to a degree of such pursuits, but only in the sense of allowing a life experience to run its course before moving on. There's no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed of disappointment and mild frustration at the lack of a positive outcome. But to overreact in a flurry of self-pity would be exactly the course of action most simple and least desirable (a less-than satisfying contradiction). To look into those eyes and see nothing but eyes staring back into mine; now that is a heartstring tug that I will never forget. Love is so much about taking chances; that's why it infuriates and upsets me when people so doggedly search for their "match" and their "type." Your type, my foolish friend, is someone who loves you. Race, religion, creed, history, family, they need not matter in the ultimate search for a simple truth. Love is about acceptance. I deeply and passionately love my best friend Matt, and for good reason; from our first meeting to this very day, he has done nothing but accept me for who I am, and I have done the same. Is that love, purely platonic, so different from the love of those who spend 50 years happily married? No, it really isn't. I'm a sarcastic intellectual who votes liberal and spares no one when on a witty tirade. Matt is a straightforward, teddybear-esque man who loves without hesitation (and votes conservative). Our running joke from approximately day two of our friendship is that our years of successful companionship are based solely upon him playing the drums and me playing the guitar. In reality, it is something much deeper and yet something remarkably superflous. We accept each other, and we use that overarching truth as a building block to resolve any conflict that we may come across.

    I do wonder on a daily basis where my other half happens to be. Not too many years ago, I thought I was dating her. Now I'm fairly confident I haven't met her yet. (If you start singing Michael Bublé, I will find you and inflict great pain). I enjoy the search, because I refuse to limit myself to those people who seem to be the "right fit." Of course I have traits and characteristics that I look for or prefer; every human being does. But I remain open to the possibility that the woman God will eventually place in my life may be completely unrecognizable to the broad sketch (pun intended) I've drawn in my mind. I said it once already, and I could not possibly say it enough times. Above all else, love is about acceptance.