On Monday, I drove across the Bay Bridge to visit B and we shot the shit about relationships (or more accurately in my case, the lack thereof.) On one hand, this past summer was one of the most action-filled in my life. I've met more women in this one year than I ever have before.

But of course, nothing ever went anywhere. Fate and my subconscious have conspired to sabotage any chance I might've had.

Thems is the breaks.

So I've been really, really concentrating on this whole Art of Not Wanting. (Thankfully, the medication is doing it's part. While most people complain about their decreased libido, it's actually working in my favor.) I know, I know, it sounds like hollow bullshit, the kind of thing that losers tell themselves when they have to go to sleep cold and alone with nothing but a bottle of handlotion or a jar of vaseline by their side, but, well, it's all I've got.

I can't stand how our culture pathologizes being alone.

I definitely count more couples than not as I sit here in the B&N.

Maybe I am a freak.

Anyway, what got me thinking was that my brother just turned 23, and he was really depressed. (What can I say, nobody loves you when you're 23.) Mostly, it's the whole direction-in-life thing that's getting him down. According to my sister, he, in fact, has a girlfriend, something that he has neglected to inform me about (although he's had a long history of hiding this kind of shit from anyone related to him. The only reason my sister probably knows is because she is the nosiest person in the world.)

The point being, it reminded me of when I turned 23, and how it was the loneliest day of my life.

I had just moved out to Illinois, and I was completely uprooted and adrift. My roommate was away on a trip (I think it was his sister's wedding) and no one else around knew that it was my birthday. Of course, my good friends all gave me a call, but I'm pretty sure it only highlighted how horrifically alone I was.

And, yet, it didn't kill me.

Loneliness is in fact survivable.

I mean, yeah, it kind of does interesting things to my mind. I'm currently living with two families: two couples (both of the wives are currently pregnant) and a 3 year old.

It kind of hurts to imagine that this isn't anything that will happen in my future.

It was even crazier when I decided to go to church with my friends on Sunday (I haven't gone since Ascension Thursday Sunday) and the Gospel was essentially about marriage. I don't know whether God was mocking me, or trying to comfort me in some warped, twisted way.

But, I suppose, like always, it's all about small steps. At least I haven't been brooding about it. I mean, yeah, it's popped into my mind now and again, but it doesn't make me weep the way I did when I found out my two friends were getting married to each other. (And that is a long, long story that I really don't want to get into at this point.

Really, though. This is not so bad. I can do this.

I also imagined what it would be like to be an uncle. That will be good enough, maybe. It takes a village, and all that.

I've always said that I shouldn't be allowed to reproduce anyway.

Hah.

Anyway, the Art of Not Wanting.

You've got to hold on to something even when there is nothing to hold on to. Such is life.