My perenially single status has come up as a topic of conversation in many places lately, and led to me being labelled a misogynist and a sociopath. Sticks and stones and all that, but I prefer to think of myself as a miserable git who has a low opinion of most humans (regardless of gender), does not trust easily and prefers to keep to himself.
I've also been called 'the ultimate homosexual, not gay for your gender but for your own opinions and company.' There's truth to that charge, although it came from someone who irritates me beyond all reason.
I begrudge no-one the chance or the right to be in a relationship with a loving partner if that's what they want. It's the absolute last thing I want and I wouldn't know what to do if it were offered to me. Given the way my mind works, I'd most likely take it apart to find out how it works or spend every day waiting for the whole misbegotten mess to fall to pieces of its own accord.
There's someone out there for everyone, you say? Perhaps so, but then I'd have to look for her and genuinely want whoever I find. I don't see that happening because, rightly or wrongly, I believe the more of yourself you share with another person, the more power you give them to hurt you. Yes there are rewards but, if you're like me and count the cost before you pay the price, you might decide (as I have) they're not worth the risk.
I've been told I'm 'only living half a life', which may be true from the perspective of the person who said it, but that half is all about ME. I have the freedom and the resources to spend my own money on things I enjoy, to go and see my friends, to get a delivery because I can't be arsed doing dishes or sit around all day in my pyjamas if I want to. I can also blast heavy metal all hours of the day and night, sleep 'til noon, burp the alphabet, scratch my unmentionables and generally be the repellent slob I really am without explanation, apology or compromise. As the man said, 'I will not be stamped, filed, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.'
I understand people want me to be happy, but a failure to communicate (or indeed procreate) arises when my definition of happiness doesn't coincide with theirs. Their well intended attempts to suggest or even set me on a different path go beyond 'okay, you're 38 now. This isn't cute any more, it's just weird' and instead indicate a need to validate their decisions. If those people need reassurance that they've done the right thing, they won't get it from me.
But wait, the argument grows thinner still. 'How do you know how bad relationships can be if you've never had one?' Because I've been blessed with the gift of observation. I have eyes and ears and I can see other people who are in relationships and the positive and negative aspects of same. For me the potential negative outweighs the positive a thousandfold, and I've nursed enough friends through bad dates and painful breakups to know I don't want to be in that situation myself. 'Harm minimisation' is a phrase often thrown around in drug treatment circles, and it's just as resonant in this case. I''d rather stick with being a physical cripple than end up an emotional one as well.
I've also been called 'the ultimate homosexual, not gay for your gender but for your own opinions and company.' There's truth to that charge, although it came from someone who irritates me beyond all reason.
I begrudge no-one the chance or the right to be in a relationship with a loving partner if that's what they want. It's the absolute last thing I want and I wouldn't know what to do if it were offered to me. Given the way my mind works, I'd most likely take it apart to find out how it works or spend every day waiting for the whole misbegotten mess to fall to pieces of its own accord.
There's someone out there for everyone, you say? Perhaps so, but then I'd have to look for her and genuinely want whoever I find. I don't see that happening because, rightly or wrongly, I believe the more of yourself you share with another person, the more power you give them to hurt you. Yes there are rewards but, if you're like me and count the cost before you pay the price, you might decide (as I have) they're not worth the risk.
I've been told I'm 'only living half a life', which may be true from the perspective of the person who said it, but that half is all about ME. I have the freedom and the resources to spend my own money on things I enjoy, to go and see my friends, to get a delivery because I can't be arsed doing dishes or sit around all day in my pyjamas if I want to. I can also blast heavy metal all hours of the day and night, sleep 'til noon, burp the alphabet, scratch my unmentionables and generally be the repellent slob I really am without explanation, apology or compromise. As the man said, 'I will not be stamped, filed, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.'
I understand people want me to be happy, but a failure to communicate (or indeed procreate) arises when my definition of happiness doesn't coincide with theirs. Their well intended attempts to suggest or even set me on a different path go beyond 'okay, you're 38 now. This isn't cute any more, it's just weird' and instead indicate a need to validate their decisions. If those people need reassurance that they've done the right thing, they won't get it from me.
But wait, the argument grows thinner still. 'How do you know how bad relationships can be if you've never had one?' Because I've been blessed with the gift of observation. I have eyes and ears and I can see other people who are in relationships and the positive and negative aspects of same. For me the potential negative outweighs the positive a thousandfold, and I've nursed enough friends through bad dates and painful breakups to know I don't want to be in that situation myself. 'Harm minimisation' is a phrase often thrown around in drug treatment circles, and it's just as resonant in this case. I''d rather stick with being a physical cripple than end up an emotional one as well.
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