Von Krankensein Heraus

Being sick is a very consuming phenomenon. I am suddenly confronted and overwhelmed with every aspect of my now very present physical presence. Every joint and bulge of flesh suddenly becomes accutely present in my conscious thought. I can feel the pads of my glasses resting precariously on the bridge of my nose. The weight of my shirt presses uncomfortably on my aching shoulders and the fuzzy lining of my argyle socks is digging into my papery skin. My sinuses, which normally are empty both of filling and feeling are suddently overwhelmingly there and my chapped lips, so often taken for granted remind me just how often I move them through the day. I have become not only conscious of my self physically, but self-conscious of my physicality and every flaw that is normally sublimated in my thoughts nows comes to the fore quite abruptly and without warning.

Lost in sickness, I find it difficult to imagine being well. Though I have only been sick for a few days, my perception of time has slowed. Now I feel every tick, tick, tick of the clock. It almost seems like I cannot truly imagine being not sick again. The thought of healthily running down the street and breathing deeply is alien to my senses. I know, however, for a fact, that I do know what it likes to be think, but in my current state, the overwhelming sensory input clouds my imagine. This makes me question whether I can ever truly imagine another state. If I now find it difficult to imagine a state I have directly experienced, how can I then claim to know what it feels like to be any other person. How can I then ever truly feel empathy. A frightening thought. Perhaps the illness is clouding my thoughts.

Betwixt and Between: A Late Night, Flu-Borne Rant

I am finally doing it.  I am suing all of them: Molly Ringwald, Walt Disney, Cameron Crowe, Hugh Grant, Julia Roberts, Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan (together, of course), John Cusack, the writers of Mad About You, the descendants of Jane Austen, and anyone else I can think of.  I, and many of my ilk, have been victimized too long by the wanton disregard for reality in their films.  Because of them, I have developed unhealthy and unrealistic beliefs about dating, which- dating that is-  I am not any longer convinced was ever a good idea.  I have been taught by too many films to count that true love will win out in out and happy couples will come together.  I realize now, after 29 years of addiction to light romantic fare, that I have been lied to.  

The Jock and the Nerd won't come together and realize that all that's really been separating them are eye glasses and bad clothing choices.  Cute girls don't really fall for the shy, quiet, but passionate guy who likes museums; they run from him and go after the flashy, good looking superficial guy (curse you Woody Allen!) who can buy them nice houses.  Opposites don't attract and birds of feather don't flock together.  Guys are not commitmentphobic and girls are not dragging boys to the alter.  

Frankly I don't know how people ever get together and stay together.  I've dated girls with whom I've had a great deal in common.  They dump me.  I've dated girls who were my exact opposites and quite naturally they were horrified by me.  I've worked hard to control my craziness in courting situations until eventually it all came out at some stressful moment and I was left alone once again.  Never in person, either (okay, once, but we weren't actually dating yet and never did so I'm not sure it counts).  It's always on the phone or via email.  Once the girl just vanished.  Never did hear from her again, but I later saw a wedding invitation.  My one long term relationship ended when a wedding invitation came in the mail.  That finally explained why she had cancelled our long-planned Valentine's date with the horses and the picnic and sunset sleigh ride.  

It's always some variation of the same thing and it has always with but one exception (discounting the most recent events since the fullness of the fallout is yet to be seen), the girl has gone on the marry the very next person she dated and always within one year.   She always tells me what a difficult choice it was and how she really likes me, but only as a friend, and oh this new guy she's been dating for last two weeks is great!  Let me put it in print (or pixels as the case may be) that I have never cheated or been duplicitous in my dating intentions and I'm sure I could find witnesses, but virtually every time I've been dumped, it is because the girl has found someone new.  How hard is it to say, "No, thanks.  I'm seeing someone!"  I've done it before and found it very satisfying.  

I used to be such a romantic.  I really did like candle lit dinners and long walks and went on plenty, but I soon realized that I was becoming a vehicle for free food until Mr. Right came along.  Dating is an investment, I was told; you're spending money on other people's (future) wives while someone else is spending money on your (future) wife.  Not exactly comforting stuff.  Plus, where I live, I can never seem to get on the calendars of many of the girls.  I know convention centers that aren't that booked up.

I never seem to fit in with anyone and no one can give me reason why.  It's always the same story, but with slight iterations.  I've been told that I'm too withdrawn and emotionless.  But!  I've also heard that I'm too passionate and that these intense emotions are too overwhelming. Whatever that is supposed to mean.  I'm too needy, I'm too independent, I'm smothering, I'm too distant.  I have co-workers who think I'm too optimistic, but I've girlfriends tell me I'm too pessimistic.  Friends tell me I lack self-confidence, but I've have professors tell me that I'm too cocky.  It seems that, like Paul, I am all things to all people, but never consistently.  

Around my liberal friends I come off as a conservative, around my conservative friends I sound like a liberal, but I never feel that I am changing my position.  I've been told I'm too out-doorsy, which is something of a laugh, but then out-doorsy folk find me too citified.  I am a liminal person; always betwixt and between; I cannot be pigeonholed or defined; or so it would seem.  

Recognizing that much of this is merely late night venting, does not detract from the truth of it.  As the t-shirts says, the only consistent factor in all my failed relationships is me.  Whenever I hear the girl begin to count off the litany of reasons why she picked Bachelor Number 2 over me, all I can think is that what you are really saying is that you are not attracted to me, because if you were, these petty differences wouldn't merit consideration.  I feel somewhat justified in saying all this because in all my dating career, I have only been the dumpER once (excluding the time I talked a girl out of stalking me when she showed up at my apartment at 2:00 am and tried to climb into bed with me; I don't think that one counts).  

I have come to realize that girls are only attracted to the one thing I cannot fake: self confidence.