So apparently today is Valentine’s Day. I swear half of all holidays ever would pass me by undetected if not for Google Doodles. Anyways, even though I don’t really do holidays, especially stupid ones, I figured I’d at least take the opportunity to write another post about love. Because there’s nothing quite like spending Valentine’s Day alone hunched over an iPad lamenting the fact that you are destined to die alone. Let’s get to it, shall we?
So I’ve been thinking: it’s one thing for me to swear to a life of solitude knowing that I’m an unlovable wreck of a person, but what if I do end up finding someone who actually likes me back? It’s no small secret that I’m not a big fan of love, but what if most of that is just because I’ve never actually found someone to love me back? What if this is a case of the fox calling the grapes sour because he can’t get to them?
So let’s run through this hypothetical situation, in which there is in fact someone out there who would like me back. She’d have to be blind, of course, to look past my unattractive exterior, and she’d also have to be an absolute brick wall to look past my unattractive interior. But let’s just say for argument’s sake that I do eventually find this impossible person. What then, TML? Would you go for it?
First of all, I know with absolute certainty that I would never deserve the love of anyone I fell for. She’d have to be a fucking masochist to deal with all my shit, and even if she was I could never in good conscience allow anyone else to have to put up with that. I’m an anchor, and dragging people down is simply in my nature. And no, this isn’t the romantic talking. I’m not being dramatic or gallant, and I’m not some edgy, tall, dark & mysterious stranger who’s tragic backstory keeps him from being loved. This is the realist talking. I have a lot of issues, and as twisted as I am I would never, ever put them on anyone else. Certainly not someone I loved.
Selflessness aside, there’s also the matter of my own well-being. My emotional and mental state is fragile at best, and a complete wreck at worst. Besides the fact that I’d probably end up being one of those overly clingy and needy people who no one wants to be in a relationship with, I’d also run the risk of seriously messing myself up. It’s hard enough worrying what your friends are thinking about you, but can you imagine if I was in a relationship? The amount of pressure I’d feel to not screw things up would almost certainly crush me. I’d overthink everything, constantly filled with regret over the things I did and the things I didn’t do. In the end it would be a coin toss to see who broke first; her, worn down over time, or me, imploding under the stress.
Not to mention I’d probably kill myself if we broke up. And no, I’m not being dramatic again. Or, well… yes, I am. But that’s exactly it. I’m a melodramatic person, easily overwhelmed by the most natural of reactions. The kind of emotional vulnerability that comes with any normal relationship would be too much for me to process.
And of course there’s the fact that I don’t trust myself not to let the other person down. I fall in love with someone new practically every week (or at least I used to, before I isolated myself from society). What if I ended up being one of those scumbag assholes who cheats on their significant other? Of course that would require at least two people to find me attractive enough to warrant a relationship, which should put me in the clear, but the fact remains that I might do it, or at the very least be tempted to do it.
So if you think about it, it’s almost a blessing I’m so unattractive. Otherwise all of this would no longer be hypothetical, and I’d actually have to worry about potentially hurting someone. I don’t know that I’d be able to trust myself not to succumb to the loneliness and the love, even knowing all I know about myself.