Alone Is Not Alone When It's A Choice

My then-wife and I first separated in 2013. We tried again in 2014, but past hurt was too much to overcome, and in 2015, we divorced. After we first split, I couldn't wait to 'be' with someone else. I would have gladly engaged in a one-night stand in order to get the monkey that is being in a relationship for fifteen years, off my back. The problem was, I had been out of the game so long, I had forgotten HOW to play.

The object of the game is obvious. The rules, however, are not at all obvious so, this is my take on how to play the singles game.

A single guy chases a woman's tail (or where she would have one if she did) and if he is successful at getting her into bed, he must, even if it means lying to her about his feelings and desire to win the game, avoid falling in love with her and her private parts. If however, he does fall in love with her, this means instant disqualification by his male friends and workmates, equating to a huge loss of respect and the loss of the game.

The opposition is searching for a man (obviously, or she wouldn't need to play any silly games) who cares about her and her feelings. He must also have the means to take care of her and any children she has from previous relationships. All the while, she must, even if it means lying about her period, avoid getting into bed with him BEFORE she has her claws embedded into his soul.

When I said I had forgotten how to play the game, that wasn't exactly true. You see, I never knew how to play the game in the first place (read above to confirm this fact), and the truth is, I never really wanted to.

*******

As a young boy going to primary school, from first until fifth grade (five years old, until ten), chasing girls was just a fun game, with no ulterior motives attached. We would chase girls, but the intention was never to catch them. As the years went by, most of the girls in our grade were (to us boys) like Amazons. Some of our female classmates could outrun the boys, especially over longer distances. But, the real reason we never caught girls was that we wouldn't have known what to do with them if we did.

In grades six and seven (when we became the oldest and coolest kids in school), the issue we had in the previous years with our Amazonian girlfriends only got worse. By this stage, I had twigged on to what all the chasing was about. However, a twelve-year-old boy is no match, physically or emotionally, for a girl of the same age. Every girlfriend I had back then was taller, stronger and had already hit puberty. I, on the other hand, had not, and was still a soprano in the school choir. Because these twelve and thirteen-year-old girls were in our eyes, virtually women, and far more mature than us boys, most were willing, even eager, to kiss their boyfriends.

The action before school took place behind the janitor's sheds, and during breaks, in the sports room, where our class had the privilege and responsibility of handing out equipment to the almost one thousand students who attended our school. Once the rush of kids wanting footballs and cricket equipment was over, there were plenty of places an amorous couple could go to be in complete privacy.

One day, my best friend and his girlfriend were going for a pash behind the high jump mats, which were leaned against a wall at the back of the sports room, leaving enough of a gap at the bottom for them to enter. I really liked his girl, and as soon as I knew what they were up to, I devised the brilliant plan of sneaking in from the other side of the mat, hoping his girlfriend would confuse me for him, and I would get to pash with her. As luck would have it, she saw me and exited upwards and over the top of the mat, leaving just me and my friend, alone in the darkness.

It could be said that it was understandable my friend thought I was her, and likewise, I thought he was she. But, as she and most of our classmates waited for us to emerge from behind the mat, laughter erupted as I had never heard before as we sheepishly withdrew from that dark place of shame...dark in more ways than I care to remember. She KNEW what was going to happen and did nothing to stop it. I think she may have had some kind of perverse, man-on-man fetish going on.

The next day, the whole school knew about our BBG (minus the girl) menage a trois, but instead of being embarrassed and denying it, we exaggerated the facts and made jokes about how much we liked it and that we were meeting up again at lunch break. Kids were in stitches, and it was the first time I realised that comedy was something I liked and could be good at.

With all that kissing going on, lip chafing was an everyday occurrence for both boys and girls. The girls took care of theirs with lip balm. The boys, however, thought lip balm was a bit sissy and wouldn't think of applying anything shaped like lipstick. But, our fear would see us pay a high price...morning, noon and sometimes, even on the weekends. These were without a doubt, the happiest days of my life.

There were two things a boy NEEDED to learn if he was to earn his reputation among the girls as a good kisser. One was, never allow his teeth to become part of the 'pash', and the other...to appear confident, even if his legs were shaking with fear and uncontrolled excitement. Stuffing this ritual up could condemn him to be forevermore known as a bad kisser, which was in our young eyes, a fate worse than any other.

********

On the first day of my first year of high school, I went from the oldest and coolest, to the youngest and dorkiest, in the blink of an eye. Added to this, I discovered the girls I had been only a little afraid of just the year before, had morphed into horrible creatures who, although nice to look at, were not to be approached under any circumstances outside of the classroom. The only time it was safe to speak with them was during class, whilst under the guidance and protection of a teacher. These girls were only interested in older boys anyway, which only helped to make my first year of high school all the more miserable.

The only good thing about that first year was the fact I was average in almost every way (I still am, unless it's something I'm passionate about). When required, I could quickly blend into the crowd of other average students if seeking to escape bullies or an angry teacher. Much like a pilchard does with his school, I would do with mine. I imagine it would have been far worse for anyone who stood out.

Sometimes during a break, an unlucky student would make the rookie mistake of needing to use the bathroom. This was the wrong time to go, and he would learn this for himself the hard way ...going from daydreaming about some girl to suddenly being upended by older and dumber student bullies and his head flushed in the bowl of a toilet.

The only students who were noticeable, but would never be singled out for punishment by bullies, were those who excelled at sports.

Things got better in my second year of high school, especially when it came to girls. There was a new group of them starting grade eight, who not so surprisingly, only wanted to talk to older boys. I was beginning to feel happy again, and it wasn't just having these new girls to talk to that brought less misery and more joy to school life. I and my fellow male classmates were no longer considered the youngest and dorkiest kids in school, and it felt like I was well on my way to becoming cool once again. Little did I know how much things could change with just one bad decision.

*******

I was fourteen years old when my older brother introduced me to marijuana. This so-called soft drug stole my confidence and drive to succeed. Within a year, and at the halfway point of grade ten, I dropped out of school. Luckily, I was offered a job as an apprentice Boilermaker, but getting stoned every day wasn't conducive towards holding down a steady job, and with only two years left to go before I would have become a qualified tradesman, I quit.

As far as girls went, the stoner life meant my MO needed to be simple. When I met a girl I liked, and she liked me, the plan was to stay with her as long as possible. I was a decent enough boyfriend and would have earned an average mark. But in hindsight, my subconscious/stoned mind could only do so much. The hope was, I would do enough so she would stay with me, and as long as there wasn't too much disruption from the real love of my life, I would be happy. It was a balancing act, knowing the moment she became tired of me and my lack of enthusiasm for anything other than getting stoned, she would leave, forcing me back into single life and, the game...a game I not just feared, but as time went by, came to despise.

Of course, my lack of effort would ultimately culminate in the eventual and inevitable breakdown of all my past relationships. Those girls saw right through me, and I don't blame them one bit for deciding to move on to greener (excuse the pun) pastures.

I have to admit, I was a moron when it came to understanding what the outcome would be from this lacklustre attitude towards my partner's wants and needs (except for sex, which obviously benefitted me and my ego) to do with our relationship. And it soon became apparent, post-separation/divorce, I was still a moron.

*******

During this time of transition (post-separation but pre-divorce), I had a friend who thought picking up women was the easiest thing in the world. So, I followed him around for a while, trying to learn from an expert about the art of attracting women. The best and only piece of advice he gave me was to be myself. The problem with that was, I had no idea who I was, since I was no longer one half of a relationship.

After a few trial runs (attempting to talk to girls at night clubs or at the gym), that went as well as can be expected, and an online relationship with an American girl that ended disastrously, I made what turned out to be a crucial decision. It became apparent to me I needed to put my plans of becoming a modern-day Don Juan, on hold. Plan 2.0, was to first unlearn everything that made me so moronic, and then relearn what I thought would be required to become as decent a man as is humanly possible. Any distractions went in the trash. The difficult part was working out what I wanted from life, since the rug that was my future had been pulled out from under me.

*******

I didn't intend for plan 2.0 to make me essentially celibate, after all, sex had always been important to me (and it still is). Sex was one of the few real connections I had been willing and able to sustain with my partners.

The last time I was intimate was six years ago. Obviously, there have been days when I miss being with someone. And not just for sex, but for company, companionship, and the thing I miss the most, affection.

Some people may be horrified at the thought of being alone for such an extended period, particularly those in long-term relationships. On the flip side, however, there are bound to be some who envy the freedom I have.

There is something I've had to consider. When I made the choice not to become involved in any relationships, who's to say I would have found someone anyway? It's impossible to differentiate between my choice and the circumstances that prevailed. All I can say for sure is, I haven't been on any dating sites or considered the time had come to again begin searching for love. Writing this has made me realise I am not even close to being ready to meet someone.

I'm a caregiver for my eighty-seven-year-old mother and this commitment has been and will continue to be, my priority. I can't do half a job of looking after her because of fantasy. I still carry the scars from a bitter divorce, and the truth is, there's a voice in my head that still asks me if I am stupid enough to do it all again. And right on cue, the little guy has again strongly advised against any such move.

I do understand that all of these things I have said, will mean nothing, if or when I do meet someone. If she takes my breath away and has my lonely heart demanding I act, I doubt I will have the gumption to deny myself, or her, a chance at finding someone to love and grow old with. My fear will be adding another regret to the pile if I am too afraid to risk being hurt again. The only solace I can take from all this talk and uncertainty, is how unlikely it is I will find that person.

********

There's been a lot of good that's come from the experience of being committed to relationship non-commitment. The time I have spent alone has, for the most part, been an essential period of learning. Recovery from the trauma of divorce has been and will continue to be, a long process, but I will get there. Not being in a romantic relationship has meant my mother hasn't, as yet, had to go into aged care. There has been a price to pay for this commitment, but the payoff is we have become even closer, and given what she has done for me in the past, it's a price well worth paying.

Of course, whenever there are positives, there will always be some negatives. Not having my kids in my life for the past four years has been very hard. I never wanted to control or force them to be in my life, and right or wrong, the only way I could see us going forward was to let them decide. And although we have all missed out on so much (my mom has seen them in that time either), there is nothing we can do except be patient and hope.

I believe it would be foolish for me to just assume I will get over all that has happened. But this awareness creates an understanding of just how important it will be to my future if I am to ever again be truly happy. To give myself the best chance of achieving this goal, I need to be acutely aware of the possibility that I could fail. In some small way, I'm proud of not 'just being with someone' for my own sake, when I knew in my heart I wasn't ready. It might, at the time, have seemed easier that way, but would have been a big mistake. I don't want to unnecessarily hurt anyone or be hurt myself, at least before I am emotionally strong enough to deal with it. One thing is for sure, I'm not going to allow whether or not I find someone to love, to define me or my future.

I'm not sure what kind of picture I have painted here. There are a lot of positive things to be said for single life, and I've become very comfortable with this lifestyle. I do what I want, when I want, without the need to explain to anyone or negotiate a compromise. Yes, I have become somewhat set in my ways, but keeping an open mind about the prospect of any future relationship might be the key to finding something I discover is missing from my life. In any case, single or not, I will be Ok.