The Unwilling Again Bachelor

Reading an article, Confessions of a Born Again Bachelor, and it got me thinking. To my mind, there was a little bit of whining going on, and I’m not sure the author wasn’t being a little bit derogatory at times. That said, some resonating points were made, and I still feel the vibrations rattling around my mind. It’s a personal experience however, rather than the more bush-stroke approach they used.

Now, I can relate to the sense of loss to things that I am guessing some people take for granted. Having someone to talk to outside of the daily work routine is possibly a big thing. I live with my son, and he’s a great guy, no doubt. There’s only somethings that can be talked about with your son, and there’s nothing quite like someone who can, even just occasionally, is invested in hearing about your day, and that you can be invested in something beyond yourself. Even while my marriage of 15 years died a quiet death of resignation, we still were able to engage with each other, and it is something that I miss. Its absence is like a sink hole in my chest.

Now I find myself having become almost stereotypical in my unwanted bachelor lifestyle. I’ve become lazy about appearances at home, about keeping things relatively tidy, staying on top of washing, cooking for myself, etc. I mean, it’s me, and my son, who is his own bachelor with his own unique messy style. In some respects, he’s messier than me. In others, he’s neater. There’s just little motivation to put any more effort into it, which is a little demoralising in itself. There seems little point in things.

Being single does come with perks, sure, but just like water, you can have too much of it that it starts causing harm. That’s why there’s also the saying, too much of a good thing.

Then you get the platitudes and one-liners. “Learn to be happy with yourself.” I am thank you Susan, or at least I was. For a while there, I was very much enjoying being single. 15 years of committed marriage, which wasn’t really working, and then single? Of course there was enjoyment in feeling free to be myself. Then as time went on, I felt like I was missing something. Connection. Deep meaningful, even passionate connection.

So I was happy with myself, and that lasted a while.

Now I crave to be held and to hold, to chat about things, to share moments of intimacy that aren’t necessarily sexual. I wish to share the same air with someone for a while. Not every night, just some. It doesn’t even have to be the same person every time, just someone to connect with and stimulate that social muscle.

While we’re talking platitudes, can we address the old “There’s someone out there for you” and its many variations. No Tony, there isn’t, and I wouldn’t want that even if true. The whole soul mate thing is really annoying. It’s hope in vain. Let’s face it, the world doesn’t work that way. Let’s not put false hopes and expectations out there because every time you say “this may be it,” and it isn’t, I die a little.

There is no meaning to be found in life because it’s us as cognitive beings that assign meaning to life. We see meaning when really there isn’t, because we have imaginations, and need to feel connected to others and the world in general. I’m not saying it’s wrong to have meaning. I just think we should really put it in its right perspective. We are the ones seeking meaning, not existence giving out hints as to our higher purpose.

Sorry. Rant over. Back to the topic.

I’ve begun to suspect that my emotional disconnection to myself has played a part in all this, which is apparently a ADHD thing. I over connect to others while barely able to feel my own. Curiously, that self disconnect doesn’t seem to affect depression which clearly is on a separate circuit completely.

I really don’t want to be a full-time bachelor, and I guess I still hope something will change. I do miss that deeper emotional connection.

All indications suggest I may have to weather this. Age and time are against me.

Wow. That sounded very fatalistic.