On Love
I feel like I don’t say it often, but love is a primary motivator of mine, and loneliness. When I don’t feel love — or rather, maybe a sufficient amount of love and attention — I create; I make things. I plan events, sew outfits, and write maudlin posts. So much of that creativity feels genuinely like I’m screaming about the love I want, and about the community I envision where we are all a family that makes sincere efforts to connect, to put down our phones and really listen; To invite each other to baking parties; To call each other in moments of silence out of concern.
I consider myself pretty traditional in the romantic sense: I’ve always pictured my future with a husband and maybe even a family. I own a couple housewife dresses because I relate to some archaic gender roles. I like throwing dinner parties, making ice cream, and sipping out of martini glasses.
But I’ve been single most of my adulthood. Somewhere in the past couple years, I became that guy I’m constantly cynical about on Scruff and Tinder, and generally in this city; I give a lot of “sure, let’s do that” non-committal affirmations to plans I know won’t happen. Something about my 30-something cynicism puts guys and experiences in neat little categories: I know the standard protocol for hookups and first-meeting cocktails, and in that way, I emotionally distance myself from the possibility that they could turn into something else. I struggle often with a “chicken vs. egg” dichotomy: am I the one not trying to make this happen, or is he?
Lately though, I return to the lack of love idea: That man never materialized, so instead I poured my heart into you – my friends and family, and the community and art I want to create. I’m not unhappy with the decision or the direction it’s taken me. I have so much love in my life today… so many good people who care about me and who I get to care about, which I consider a privilege to do. So my attention has very much been elsewhere.
But my mind has wandered back toward this elusive imaginary husband since the end of last year. Is it still possible he’s out there? If he’s not, what will my family look like in a decade? Two decades?
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