This may become a regular thing.  I haven’t really decided yet.  What do I think about at night when I’m alone with my thoughts?

Well, tonight it was this.

See, I’ve never been in love.  I’ve been in infatuation.  I’ve had crushes.  I’ve looked at guys and thought, “Wow, he’s really hot.”  I’ve been on dates.  I’ve cared about people.

But I’ve never been in love.

And that bothers me.  I feel like at this point in my life I already should have fallen in love at least once.  It seems like everyone else has.  And yet – what’s that Jane Eyre quote? – “My heart is mute.”

(My favorite classical romantic heroine is Jane Eyre; my favorite modern romantic heroine is Hazel Grace Lancaster.)

I feel like I’d be good at falling in love.  I’m faithful, romantic, devoted, passionate, loving, supportive, a good friend, non judgmental…  I crave companionship; I crave love.  And yet.  And yet.

I always feel like I’m having to settle.  No one’s ever really swept me off my feet.  I always feel confined and irritated in relationships, pushed, never freed.

See, I can put lots of fancy daydreams around it.  There are certain dates I want to try: aquarium and star-gazing being among them.  I want to spend at least one night staying up till two in the morning, talking about books and music.  I want for us to be able to travel together.  I want to go to an authentic Japanese tea ceremony with someone.  I want an outdoor wedding, with cheesecake, blue roses, and a black wedding gown.  I want to eventually have kids – two, to be precise.  I sigh a little every time I hear the finale song between Jack and Sally in The Nightmare Before Christmas.  I can put all these daydreams around it.

But in essence I need four things from a guy:

  • I need for us to be able to have a meeting of the minds.  Cosmic conversations and philosophical contemplations and political discussions.  I need an intellectual equal.  My mother once told me: “More than anyone else I have ever met, you need an intellectual equal.”  The problem is, not to toot my own horn, but I’m really smart.  By the time I was 12, my lexile reading score told me I should be reading college level textbooks because they were the only books that would challenge me anymore.  I’m a senior in college and I have never failed a course.  Ever.  I love philosophy, psychology, history, critical thought, politics, religious beliefs, and being creative.  So someone I can have deep conversations with is necessary.  This includes a need for support.  If I have an argument with my Mom, for example, my guy doesn’t need to agree with my view of things, but he does need to be able to politely analyze with me ways in which I could handle the situation better next time.  I need support – conversations – feedback.
  • I need someone whose demons play well with mine.  I have my demons, my crazy, psychotic, depressive, manic, delusional, clingy, stay-away-from-me demons, and on top of that I have a morbid fascination with doing and thinking things that society tells me I’m not supposed to, and someone who understands those demons – who understands the mad urges I have, or at least tries to without judgment – someone who gets it, whose demons click with mine – is a must.
  • I need someone who I’m attracted to and who is willing to be sexually active and sexually creative.  I want to experiment with different kinds of sex, but I’d have to really trust the person I’m with in order to let them be deviant with me, so trust comes complicit with attractiveness and sexuality for me.  The three must converge at the same time.
  •  And finally, I need someone who’s just as weird as I am.  God, I need someone I can be weird with.  And that’s the crux of the thing for me.

I don’t shave.  I walk around naked, and usually not in the sexy way.  I fart loudly and don’t apologize.  I will literally walk into a bathroom someone has occupied, sit down, and take a shit right next to them.  I go for whole hours where I’m on my computer typing and I say nothing and I just want to entwine my legs with someone else’s and be comfortable in the creative silence.

I have all these bizarre things I want to try – nude photo shoots that are not brushed up at all, that show the marks my pants make in my skin and my body hair and the bags under my eyes.  Cross dressing photo shoots.  Unsexy sex videos – sex videos that are not pornography, but just the ugly reality of two people having sex.

And there’s so much more.  I want to go on a Victorian European graveyards tour.  I want to wear dresses with signs printed onto them pointing out where my body hair is and where the point is on a woman’s body where she masturbates.  I want to do a concert that is entirely dark except for blue lights and the musicians wearing glow sticks.  I want to make a musical album entirely consisting of a certain sound I’ve discovered:

So, you lay in the bathtub and submerge your ears underwater – but not your full face.  You point a fan just above your face.  Then you make silent vowel movements with your mouth, and you can hear this very certain sound – underneath the water.  Your silent mouth makes sound.

I want to make an album entirely consisting of that sound, overlaid with distant dream-like screams and laughter, the kinds of sounds you hear when you’re half awake and half asleep.  I could call it Silent Sound.

No stealin’ my ideas, by the way, guys.  Ha!  Like anyone would want to.

I’m weird, is what I’m saying.  I’m a bizarre person.  I can totally relate to the song “Mad Hatter” by Melanie Martinez.  I get along best with crazy people – the kind of people who will make weird sounds when I make weird sounds, and go on random adventures with me.  In the end… I need a friend.

I go back to that Dr Seuss quote to define love: “We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”

And sometimes I’m just terrified that I’ll go my entire life without finding that person.  That I’ll go my entire life without finding someone who’s just as passionate as I am, who can give me my freedom, who’s my intellectual equal, whose demons play well with mine, who can be weird with me, who’s attractive and deviant yet trustworthy.

I’m frightened I’ll never find that person for me.  I’m terrified I’ll never fall in love.  I’m almost as afraid that I’ll find that man and he won’t want to have kids – which I do.  I’m scared I’ll never have kids.  I’m just… nervous in general, I guess.  I’m afraid of the “nots.”

I dream of this:

To Love At All Is To Be Vulnerable

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