Last night I put myself through a brutal three hour workout. That in and of itself is not unusual. Not unusual at all. I was lonely, and angry with myself for being lonely, and needed to burn that anger and loneliness into the stratosphere with sweat and pain. That is not unusual either. I know I choose to live alone, and live a secluded life. So the loneliness really is on me.
I do try, really. I put myself out there, meet new people, seek play partners. That is not difficult. I tell myself that satisfying the physical is enough. Brief interludes of adult companionship, played out on a level playing field with spoken contract, rules, and expectations firmly in place. It is spoken aloud that these are not exclusive relationships, quite the opposite in fact. Not exclusive, though that is not my nature, being hardwired to be monogamous, so exclusivity on my end is a given. No risk of a broken heart, for mine has been broken too hard and too often. That is what I tell myself. But the risk is there. Social media helps fan the flames of discontent and sadness. I have a love/hate relationship with social media. It is too easy to see why plans are changed, or weekends are unavailable. Too easy to see friends confessing love and adoration for their chosen partners. Too easy to see as they search for more. Too easy to see plans being made, other promises to other people. I can lie to myself, but I won't. I can tell myself that there are other reasons for silence, emails left hanging without response, texts unanswered. But I won't lie to myself, not anymore. Lies, even to myself, are a sure road to devastation on one level or another.
This is what sparked my anger last night. Anger at myself. No one else. No one else is lying to me, and that is a pleasant change. But I don't know that I am strong enough to face honesty. I don't know how strong is the armor carefully constructed around my heart. Not strong enough. Because I want to lie to myself, tell myself that there is love and romance out there for me. Something beyond friendship based on mutual desire and kink. I want to think that somewhere in the world is someone who will love me, want me, choose me. Choose Me. Someone who will choose me above all else. It is a silly, romantic notion that has managed to hold onto a tiny corner of my heart all these years. That silly notion that someone, someday will decide that I am The One. That deranged notion that someday I will find love. And it makes me angry that I let myself still believe this, since time and again I am proven wrong. Angry, tearful, lonely.
This morning the anger is gone, with sore muscles to remind me of the intensity of my night. There is residual loneliness though. A residue that clings like a light coating of ash that seeps into every crevice, and can never seem to be completely swept away. So what is there to be done? Retreat from the world once again in a vain attempt to protect myself from pain? No, pain is just pain. At least that is the one lie I still allow myself. Retreat? No. Not this time. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.