Seeking John Galt

I do this a lot, actually.  I forget that there is such a thing as “too much” of a good thing.  That less really is sometimes more.  That sometimes, the effort expended on the margin is not only not helpful, but can be detrimental past a certain point on the spectrum.

It has come to my attention that militant breeziness might not be the best tactic to take if one is hoping to have a mature, adult, successful relationship.  At some point, one of you has to admit to caring whether or not you ever see the person again. 

Which, of course, is extraordinarily difficult to do while maintaining a completely nonchalant, detached attitude. 

“I suppose I might find the energy to be mildly less content if I didn’t hear from you within the next month or so… maybe.”

Doesn’t quite convey actual interest or investment, now does it?

So at what point does one have to stop being breezy, lest nihilism take hold and before long, one stops caring about very much of anything at all?

I don’t think I care to find out.

I don’t believe in soulmates, at least not in the way that many people seem to.  I think that for every person on this planet, there is more than one person to live with, happily, long-term.  I think that it’s also true that for every person on this planet, most people could not fill that position.  So we’ve got more than one, but a heck of a lot less than every member of the opposite (in my case) gender.

I think this makes it harder.  For those who do believe in the notion of a soulmate, they’re disappointed when they realize that nobody fits 100% from the beginning, that you are going to have to do a fair amount work no matter what.  Maybe they cling to the notion that someone will be 100%, and they’ll spend too much time focusing on what’s wrong, instead of what’s right.  And that’s no fun for anyone.

For those who have the other view, that one looks for someone who’s close enough to 100% to make the work worthwhile, and mostly fun, someone who’s worth risking an “all-in” bet, the danger lies in the other direction – not settling, exactly, but in taking too much of a risk - in thinking that the person will become more of what he or she wants, or that they’ll want what the other doesn’t have, less.  The awareness that it’s not going to be perfect can have the unfortunate effect of lowering expectations a little too far.

If anything, the latter has probably been my biggest problem.  I’ve been in a couple of serious, long-term relationships where we were both convinced that the little differences wouldn’t really matter so much.  I’ve been the one wanting to try just a little harder, for just a little longer, to meet halfway, and I’ve been the one smacked in the face with the realization that I can’t spend the rest of my life with someone who will always want me to be a little bit different – and the one who had to convey that realization to someone I still cared about very much.

The great thing about the 98%, whether it works in the long run or not, is that it helps you learn more about yourself and what you really want, than anything else can – putting you both in a much better place to get that much closer to 100 next time.

It’s funny how things transform out of context.  I saw this quote, standing alone, and thought it was a lyric or verse.  Two people were conversing - one of them pleading with the other to stop self-destructing, promising to help make it all better, if the other could only stop doing the thing that was affecting them both, right then.

It’s hard, watching someone take a particular path you know will cause them harm.  When you want nothing more than to help them, but know they’re just one step away from crossing the Rubicon.  As you watch them move forward anyway, carelessly or defiantly, the few seconds required for that irreversible step stretch into a regret that lasts for years, if not a lifetime.

In movies - well, most of them, at least, those few seconds are a turning point for the main character.  The guy runs into his apartment building’s hallway, tells the girl that he doesn’t care how badly they screw it up so long as they can be together.  It’s beautiful, and romantic, and unrealistic. 

Another way to look at those few seconds, though - the only way that lets me stay sane, is to see them as an opportunity to go in a different direction.  To do something with my life that I wouldn’t have before.  I may have closed one door, locked it, boarded it up and cemented it shut - but that doesn’t mean that what’s behind door # 42278 won’t have its own, different sun.