Thursday, September 16, 2004

 

Warning: Self-Indulgent Whining Follows

Well, I'll try not to be that self-indulgent and whiny, but I hesitate even to post this for fear it will turn into that. Nevertheless, I was doing some thinking last night as I introduced the man-kitty to baseball (he wasn't that interested, and it freaked him out when I clapped/yelled at the TV) and watched hurricane coverage during the commercials. And I think that maybe what I'm thinking about will resonate with some of you, so here it goes.

I was home, alone, after a long day of teaching and dealing with the DN. I had half-expected/half-hoped that Freud would call, because I don't have to teach until late afternoon on Thursdays and I kind of wanted to hang out with somebody with whom I wouldn't have to think/talk about work stuff. Well, the phone was silent. Then, I started watching baseball, and was really happy to be doing so, and I was also flipping to the hurricane coverage. The hurricane coverage made me think of my ex, because they were talking about the possibility of massive flooding in the area of the country where his family lives and where he returned to after leaving me. And, to be honest, I was also thinking about him because of the baseball, which was central to our relationship.

I haven't spoken to Jerk (as I will call him) since he left me in March 2003. Not only have I not spoken to him, but I haven't had any contact with him at all. This is strange for me because I generally maintain friendships with ex-es, no matter what the circumstances of the break-up. My theory on this is that I liked the person enough to date them and so there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to like that part of them even if we don't work in a dating scenario. But. Things with Jerk ended very badly, and I felt like it was on him to contact me. When he didn't, and when I realized he wouldn't, I felt like too much time had passed for me to contact him. And so, we don't speak. But last night, I really missed him, for the first time in a long time. And the way that I missed him was for the first time not colored by anger.

Well, I couldn't go on thinking about him, and so I put him from my mind and started thinking about my life now, both in terms of relationships and in terms of work. I called Freud and left a message, but he didn't call me back. And so I think to myself, ok, Freud probably has started seeing somebody. And then I think to myself, yes, and Dr. E is seeing somebody, too. And then I go all maudlin and start thinking, what is wrong with me that nobody loves me except for my sweet little kitten?

Anyway, as I was thinking about all of this, I began to think that there is a kind of inverse relationship between how things go with my work vs. how things go with relationship stuff. Basically, things with my work are fantastic. I'm doing everything and more that I want to be doing work-wise, and I get a kind of satisfaction from my work that I get from absolutely nothing else. The problem, as I see it, is that I want more in my life than work, but no person has yet been able to challenge the hold that work has on me. Jerk almost did it, but ultimately, he was too impressed by my work and envious of what I do really to succeed. These other yahoos - well, I'm under no illusions that either is as important as Jerk was, but neither came close to achieving real significance with me. And so of course they would go date other people because they knew that I am... ambivalent, lukewarm. Sure, I want somebody, but am I willing to compromise? I don't think I am. Or, rather, I don't think I've met anyone yet who has inspired me to compromise. It's not that I think I need to (or should) give up work or ambition in order to get a man, but I do think that there is a problem with the fact that my work comes before everything else in my life, often to the detriment of things that in the abstract I really want.

So yeah. I don't really have any answers as a result of this ruminating, but these are the things that occurred to me in the DN-hang-over of last night.

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