Don't You Want Somebody to Love?

Sometimes, rarely, I'll be in the middle of some mundane something and I'll think, well, I've probably been loved for the last time in my life.

If I think really hard about my definition of love, I think I can safely say no man has ever loved me. And no, that's not self-pity. I'm talking about a man who loves me without his own agenda first and foremost in his mind (hello, Bubba) or because it's convenient (hello, Bruno) or because he can control me (hello, Xman). Or because it's better than not doing anything at all (hello, Anonymous Boyfriend).

Ah well. One shrugs the way the French do. A Gallic, 'did you expect it to be otherwise?' kind of shrug. C'est la vie.

Lately, I am involved in cleaning up Ma Maisonette until I drop exhausted into bed while I'm at home. At work, it's a constant gut clench of fear and just waiting for Fireman Fred to tell me what I've done wrong now. Those two things pretty much eat up my day.

There are small delights here and there and I'm grateful to take them where I can.

Once upon a time, I wanted so much to have someone to love that I would love anyone, just because he was there and would tolerate it. Not much was expected in return. Therefore, not much was given in return.

I don't much want somebody to love anymore. It's just a lot easier this way and I don't feel like large bites have been taken out of my soul.

Frankly, there's a lot to recommend this not-loving thing, but it's not for everybody and it's certainly not for amateurs.