Don’t Let Me Get What I Want This Time (Or Not Yet)

The thing about fantasies is that you can set the limit of what happens, even if only in your head. No flaws, no fights, no hang ups.

No consummation either. No satisfaction.

Look at the bright side, though. No disappointment.


That Lovin’ Feelin’

It’s amusing to think about how detached and skeptical I’ve grown in the last 7 years or so. Especially considering how relatively brief my stint in love and romance has been so far. I wonder how many years it will take until I’m left with a tiny, cold, black heart.

Perhaps it is time to be a born-again romantic.
Is there a twelve-step program or at least a WikiHow article for that?

Expiration Date

Do all relationships have breaking points? If every relationship ends after the all too familiar last straw, what’s the point of finding new partners?

Maybe there is no point (shock horror), maybe the shelf lives are varied and among the milk and pastry you might find something that lasts long enough until you die or decide to only live with cats.

Maybe you should just step back, not think about it, and enjoy your meal. At least before the molds grow.


“Wabi means that even in straitened circumstances no thought of hardship arises. Even amid insufficiency, one is moved by no feeling of want. Even when faced with failure, one does not brood over injustice. If you find being in straitened circumstances to be confining, if you lament insufficiency as privation, if you complain that things have been ill-disposed—this is not wabi.”

– The Zencharoku (Zen Tea Record, 1828)

Subterranean Homesick Blues

If you can’t dig deeper, build a nest and settle for shallower grounds.

Compromise is not submission.
Acceptance is not resignation.

Tag Team

The constant, instant shifting of moods, from cold to furious to hysterical to morose to indifferent to composed to frighteningly chipper. Silence, tears, shouts, angry trembling, Stepford smiles, quizzical eyebrow raises, laughter, all jumbled, mixed, in sequence, in reverse.

The only reasonable unreasonable explanation is that there’s a tag team made up of parts of myself with different temperaments. Detached yet inseparable. I do wonder, when one takes a hit, who gets hurt?

Burning, Burning, Yearning

A few months ago, a dear friend brought to mind an age-old question:
When we break up, where does the love go?


It’s fascinating how sadness and other forms of emotional distress are often accompanied by physical pain. The chest pain of sadness, the abdominal pain of anxiety, the headache of anger.

How are the physical and mental pain connected? Can one literally die of heartbreak or any other devastating loss? How does it all work?

Like Thomson and Thompson or Mac and Cheese

A: how is it that you keep going from one relationship to another?
A: and enduring the same kind of fights over and over again?
B: maybe I’m just stupid
A: or courageous
B: or a fucking idiot
A: or a fucking braveheart
B: well
B: it’s because of that high
A: what high?
B: that high feeling
B: being in love
A: ah
A: and the low feeling?
B: unfortunately, they go hand in hand

(…or Pinky and the Brain or Mulder and Scully or pre-divorce Sonny and Cher or Beavis and Butthead or or pre-Keene Act Rorschach and Nite Owl II* or pre-breakup/post-reunion Simon and Garfunkel or Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde**)

*apparently Rorschach and Nite Owl II slash fictions exist in this world, to which I say, in the words of film-version Nite Owl II, “NOOOOOOOO!”

**awful 90s comedy home video that tainted my childhood innocence

Fixing a Hole

Once, during a past relationship, a conflict sparked one night.

He said I was too clingy, too demanding as if I could never get enough of anything. (Of course I did get more than enough to make me want to erase part of my memory) Too many phone calls, texts, unwanted attention.

What, then, should I do about it? I asked, at the time. Give some space?

So, then, I did. I gave some space and filled my own with other things I loved more. Until one day he said I was too cold. Distanced, aloof, as if I didn’t need anything from him. Annoyed, I asked, “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I grew so cold, he said, that he suddenly realized how he missed how I was, how it made him felt loved.

Needless to say, it was never the same, and the relationship ended not long from then.

Guilt has always driven me to try changing how I am to make things better. Not that it works that much. Perhaps because neither I nor whoever he is really have a clue. Yet, I often can’t help trying to find a balance point of how I should be, how I should act in order to make a relationship work. At the same time, I’m not really sure that balance point exists. If it does exist somehow, I’m not sure I can or want to reach it.

Which leads me to a thought that sometimes slips off my mind. A relationship shouldn’t be spent working your way into a perfect balance of, for example, neediness and independence. Balance will come from imbalance, so to speak. Compatibility comes from those always changing imbalances. Once you can be open to criticism, once you can evaluate and adapt willingly, both of you, you’ve got nothing to worry about.



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