“Nothing to do
Nowhere to be
A simple little kind of free
Nothing to do
No one but me
It isn’t really hard to see
Why I’m perfectly lonely
I’m perfectly lonely
Perfectly lonely, yeah
Cause I don’t belong to anyone
And nobody belongs to me.”
– “Perfectly Lonely”, John Mayer
Every one of us, attached or not, knows what it’s like to be single.
It isn’t the worst thing in the world by any means. I am very happy and thankful for my life- and am blessed to have learned volumes and grown by leaps and bounds as an independent lady! I have never been in a serious relationship, so I have had many years to learn (continually) about how to be happy with who I am and what I do have, rather than what I am “missing” (relatively speaking), or what other people have.
There is an understanding in those words that contentment and lonliness are not- as our statistics books may phrase it- mutually exclusive. Recent situations have reminded me just how true that is with matters of my own heart. It happens all the time: I meet someone wonderful, things seem to be moving along nicely, and then one, tiny, amoeba-sized thing happens and either I’m searching the Internet for china patterns, or thumbing through my Damien Rice collection looking for the perfect anthem to echo my desolation. What happened to Normalville? I was on my way there: how can one tiny thing send me reeling off the road?!
For an analogy, consider a scale. One one side is the carefree, happy romantic me that enjoys her bi-quarterly viewing of You’ve Got Mail. On the other, the insecure, somewhat jaded, perpetually single “best buddy” of heterosexual males. In most situations, the scales are balanced. But add a circumstance the weight of a feather on either side, and the scales tip all the way in that direction. One kind word or gentle smile, and I’m all optimism. One aloof moment, and I’m convinced that I am doomed to a life of isolation and spinsterhood, with only my emaciated felines to console me.
It is possible, where the Heart is concerned, for me to maintain a sense of balance.
But must it be so delicate? How can I be still? The whole world is spinning.
“And she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land, just like she’s walking on a wire in the circus…” – Round Here, Counting Crows