It is two years ago today that the official breakup happened.
While I suppose it's not really meaningful in the overall scheme of things, it does beg some reflection.
Forst of all, it's been only two years. Really in the overall scheme of things, that's nothing. I've waded in the dating pool some in the last year or so, but it's been pretty low-resolution stuff. I suppose that I really have no great urge to be revisiting the pain of breaking up all over again, as it sems to be the inevitable result of hooking up.
And really, I do like the sense of freedom that comes from being alone. I make the decisions on what to paint and when, how the furniture is laid out, what I'll be doing on vacation, whether I can spend a day playing Lost Bunnies in Vixenville or leaving the toilet seat up.
At the same time, I do miss the nicer aspects of having somebody in the proximity of love. It's kind of like a six of one/half dozen of the other tradeoff. The balance pretty much tips on a daily basis, but overall it's just another choice, no right or wrong judgements.
Loneliness sucks. But it's also a self-guided missile. From a practical standpoint, I'd like to be domestically partnered with a woman of pretty decent income so that we could combine resources on the house and stuff (notice the whole practical and rather mercenary bent), but I realize that as being pretty damn impractical considering that the women that I'm most attracted to are more creative artsy-gothy types that probably aren't making $50-100k salaries.
At the same time, I'm not really wanting to hook up with a Jerry Springer Trailer Park Momma who is lookin' fer a man to "treat her right" so her and her babies and a couple of kinfolk can live the good life of actually having shoes and not having to share the eatin' teeth.
And I'm not looking to be a daddy. If I hear the phrase "my biological clock is ticking" one more time, I'm gonna run screaming.
I'm not really holding my breath as far as finding the perfect woman. I don't think there is any such thing. There is a kind of general range and direction, a kind of a nebulous domain in which the perfect woman would exist if she actually did.
Of course, on the side note: my birthday is coming up next friday, and I'm pretty much cash-poor after the whole tax fiasco so no big party. So I'm open to suggestions, particularly if said suggestions involve scantily-clad college girls and recreational substance abuse.