It was 3:30am. Nancypants, who'd been online late too, was on the phone and we were relating. We've been doing this for almost ten years now. Though drastically different people, it is hard to ignore the parallels that exist between us.
For example: both our dads are white men.
Then of course there's the sometimes trying, always failing with post-secondary education. Seemingly, we will both always be forced to claim only the 'high-school graduate' lines on applications... when we're lucky and the potential employer is kind, we can say we have 'some college'.
And we roam. Wanderers of the wide world, travelers that find their way back to Middle Georgia in random spells. This before we make the drive or flight elsewhere.
Neither of us is unlucky in love, but we are both very stupid in love. We believe in signs and miracles and serendipity. We are not die-hard romantics, we are superstitious people prone to fall whenever something seems too good to be true. We do this at our own peril and perhaps only now have learned that there are inevitable phases to this lifestyle.
And last night, we discussed her newest "Enthusiastic Phase". Really, the only thing that's changed with us is that we know it is a phase. It's a hard education, but we've figured that much out.
This year, we've both found ways to be scared out of loving or falling. We've both thought that avoiding romantic connections would be the best avenue to a happy and successful life -- only to turn around and fall again. Now, having both decided fallen hard for good people, we've accepted it is something to be enjoyed. It is a phase and the next probably can't be avoided. Maybe there's a level of bracing for impact, but there isn't any way to avoid it.
The side effect of all this mysterious relationship business with us is that we tend to build up the people we're with, to put them on pedestals. Then disappointment is bound to follow. Not because they aren't great but because we aren't everything in the world to them. And maybe I speak for myself alone when I say that.
That aside, I know Nancypants and I are incorrigibly lonely people. It is what drives all of this. We are older and somewhat wiser, but we are just as lonely as we were the day we sent our first Valentines. In this manner, rejection is a way of life. There is no way to escape it because everything we do leads to it.
Consider me an optimist. Consider this my infomercial.
There is hope.
Like they say, the first step in correcting a problem is to admit you have one.
We've admitted and we're working on correcting it albeit in painful ways.
She and I will continue to fall, I suppose. We'll continue to enjoy the little things while they last until we learn what relationships are all about. We'll build ourselves up and try putting ourselves in the best situations possible. And no matter what, we'll always have the other to turn to when we feel the need to 'talk'.
Such is life. He saw life and knew that it was good.
But I'm not done yet. Nancy said the one thing that hurts the most because it's the most true. It's the heart and soul of what I do to myself when I can't seem to do anything but hurt myself. She reminded me that I have potential.
"If anyone, by now I would have expected you to have a Ph.D," she said last night.
I wasn't offended or upset. I was just faced with it again.
Thing is, fair Nancypants and all who read this, I'm not that guy. It ain't me, babe. I'm not academic. I'm scholastic. And if you don't know, there is a difference.
The essence of the word 'scholar' is a Greek term that involves mostly having a lot of time on one's hands. That's who I am. That's what I do. It's how I roll.
In all this illustrious free time, I've learned amazing things and I've absorbed dumb things too. It's what makes me me and that's part of the solution to the above. Making peace with who I am.
Normally, I resent and regret the fact I haven't accomplished myself. That I'm working at Waffle House. That I'm living in my mother's house.
What I'm trying to see is that this is a path. It has no permanent destination, but is heading in a direction. That direction would be some sort of fulfillment. I take pride, when I think this way, in the pain I've seen and moreso, the pain I've endured. There are tragic figures in the mediums I enjoy most but most of them inflicted it on themselves -- a rare few had real adversity to overcome. I think it comes part and parcel with the sorts of brains they have. I think I have that sort of brain. Maybe even that sort of soul.
So who is this for, who is this for? I don't know. I'm just writing it because I don't want to go to the Med-Stop yet. I'm not ready to close my pack of smokes or to finish off my coffee. Really, when I started, I just wanted to make fun of Nancy because that's what I do.
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