Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about a Valentine's Day extravaganza!

"Young love."

Good evening friends, lovers, and everyone in between! Welcome to Valentine's Day, or, if you're reading this, just another Saturday night. Lots to get to, and I've been putting it off all day because I'm lazy, for lack of a better term. Hey, at least I'm honest.

Young love...we've all been there, right? We all have our stories, our heartbreaks, our "love conquers all, at least until we've hit some form of maturity" narratives. And I'm pretty sure most of us let the one get away. And wouldn't you know...you've already said something like "for better or for worse" before you even considered planning an actual real-life wedding. Bet you haven't thought of your "young love" story in those terms. Or maybe you did...in that case, let's both move on.

I've been in love before...many times, actually. And on several occasions it's been reciprocated, which is always nice. But young love man...young love isn't what it's cracked up to be. There's nothing to love about young love (except maybe the very beginning, like, the first ten minutes or so...c'mon y'all, I'm not totally heartless damaged goods now), because it always ends in pain. And because you're young, you don't know what that feeling is or how to respond to it. You forget that "forever" is a really long time, and suddenly this thing called "love" that you thought was gonna last forever turns into an inconsolable mess of unwantedness and sorrow doomed to last equally as long as "forever".

Forever. That's a strong word. People like to throw it around like it has an expiration date so they can just get a new one, or like they'll get a nickel back for it once they empty it and return it to the store. Forever until forever is no more. Forever until I change my mind, or someone better comes along. Forever until next week, or next month, or when the kids go away to college. Forever, because we're still young and volatile and beautiful and indestructible. Forever because we know no better. Forever because we won't know what's worse. Forever because the tank's full and we've got everywhere to go. Forever until we get there. Forever and the next time. Forever, goodbye.

That's a lot of forevers...it feels like that last paragraph should be in a greeting card you give to someone who's called off the dating game altogether, like "Fuck this, I'm just gonna sit on my couch and watch Netflix with my six cats and eat ice cream straight out the carton for the next 45 years." All unstoppable-like about stopping love and romance completely unless it comes delivered in the form of a pizza. Maybe it should be a poem about how young love can ruin the idea of old love, in the same manner that Barbie ruined the idea of "the perfect body image" in some girls. Maybe I should sneak in to a women's bathroom in a sleazy bar and Sharpie those sentiments on the wall, perhaps to inspire a 20-something to ditch the scumbag her head's telling her to marry but her heart's not so sure. Maybe. The road to forever is lined with maybe rocks and hopefully sands and what-if trees...and if you're lucky you'll be stung by a maybe bee that'll keep you believin' that forever is a thing and not just another dream.

And suddenly you're not young anymore. The image of you in your head at 23 doesn't match the same one in the mirror at 39. Babies are grown; you know women your age who are grandmothers now and you're not even ready for a child of your own, let alone begin to watch his or her heart break for the very first time without even knowing if it's really love. There's no one to tell that it's not, because you weren't able to learn that for almost too long.

Boys and girls don't break hearts. Love breaks hearts. Love knows when to stay and when to leave, and love doesn't have to say goodbye. Love doesn't care if you're with someone else or if you're determined to be forever alone. Love makes the rules, and love makes the decisions for you. There is no love in hope, but there always seems to be hope in love...and whether it's wrong or it's right, whether it's good or bad, whether it stays or flees, old or young, love always wins.

"Happy Valentines Day! Agree or disagree ? It's easier for a woman to read a man's mind than it is for a man to read a woman's mind."

C'mon now! Normally I'd say I'm not gonna allow myself to get pulled into a trap question like that! Why? Simple: statistically, most of my readers are strong, well-educated women who will, for the most part, claim that they can read minds. Until you ask then what they'd like for dinner, and they say, "I don't know...what do you want?" and you say you don't know, so they get all huffy like "Well, I'm not a mind reader, so you better pick somethin' 'cuz I'm hungry!" and you think maybe it might be time to start living in the garage or something, because that woman just went from zero to batshit hangry in 1.85 seconds...a new world record.

So here we go with the analogies again...guys are simple; girls are complex. Guys are like dogs, who are always glad to see you and wanna roll around in the grass and play and eat food off the floor as long as it's still edible; girls are like cats, who will demand attention and affection but on their terms, otherwise leave 'em the hell alone and don't get their hair wet or they'll scratch the everlovin' outta ya just because.

I know...not all women are like that, and no, I won't eat food off the floor. It's a generalization with little valuable merit, but just enough to have made its way into my consciousness to have earned blog space. Therefore, it's now part of public domain and available to be discussed. Or dismissed.

I'm simple most of the time. That means it's probably easy to read my mind, and even easier once I start making expressions. I'd probably be a terrible poker player because when I get excitable, I get excitable. And I'm usually blunt and straightforward enough to tell you what I want anyway, which eliminates the need to be a mind reader. I'm, like, perfect like that, so I don't really care who the better mind reader is; it's not a competition as long as we all get to eat whatever we decide upon for dinner in a timely fashion. And I don't have to do dishes...I hate doing dishes.

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It's not that I'm anti-lovey-dovey, or have something against relationships and love and happy couples and shit. I don't. It's ok to not want to feel anything on Valentine's Day. I'm not gonna fake joy so others don't have to think they should be miserable by seeing me miserable...live and let live, ya know?

At this point in life, I'm not interested in the idea of a relationship. I've been in enough of them to know that I never wind up being happy. It's not you, it's me. I need my space. Lots of it. Whenever it needs me. I'm better off alone, because we'll both end up heartbroken. That's how these things work for me. I've tried almost everything, and it's become borderline hopeless. But I'm ok with that, because maybe that's who I'm supposed to have been all along. The timeline of relationships would be reduced to moments of eye contact rather than the standard months of courting and flirting and drunkenly making out while realizing it's "meant to be" until it's not; a glance and a smile and it's done and over with...minimal reward for minimal risk. No messy breakup, no awkward returning of personal effects, no explanations or cover-ups or accusations. You can close your eyes and feel that it's ended and be ok. And you can do it over and over again without pain. Is that too much to ask for? Is that asking too much of myself to get used to? Am I crazy because I don't want to put in the effort if the end result is always the same? Am I wrong to believe more in the idea that I don't need love; that love needs me more than I need it?

Love can be the faceless woman at the bar in the crowd, dancing near you to a nineties cover band. The way the music plays allows you to dance and sway, and she moves in closer, directly in front of you with barely any room between you and her. This continues for several minutes. You try to talk but the band drowns you out...soon you're just rhythm; two people all alone in a crowd. Without notice, she turns around and starts kissing you. You don't know her name or what she looks like, but the only connection you have is the music. This kiss feels like forever. You don't want to stop, but the jarring silence of the band's set being finished combined with the house lights kicking on is enough to snap you out of what feels like the best dream ever. The next thing you know, you're ridin' shotgun in your buddy's car on the way home, and he's quizzin' you about the girl. Barely able to believe what just happened yourself, you play it off like it was no big deal. But for a few moments, it was.

Today's song is "Lover I Don't Have To Love" by Bright Eyes.

"I need some meaning I can memorize;
the kind I have always seems to slip my mind."
Lyrics.  

I'm putting this here just in case I start seeing women I'm not sure if I'm becoming romantically involved with on a semi-regular basis and need an appropriate Valentine's Day card   to properly express how confused I am about the relationship.

And I'm putting this here because it's ok to be single, and because we choose not to have anyone to answer to, that doesn't just mean you can ask us ridiculous and/or condescending questions  .

But if you are in love, please enjoy this list of NPR's love songs everyone should love  . It's a pretty contemporary list, with something for all tastes.

And finally, there are candy conversation hearts   for those of you who've decided to remain in long-term, committed relationships. Bless your souls.

Alright you people, that's it for this year's Valentine's extravaganza. I promise you, I'm not nearly as miserable or lonely as this entry might sound. And if you're still reading this, congratulations...may your life be not as devoid of romance this time next year as it currently is. Peace, you said it feels good, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!