So I was chatting to a friend of mine tonight and it seems the same malady that afflicts me has rooted itself in their existence. Monogamy.
Another friend of mine some time back said to me that monogamy was the most unnatural self-imposed affliction of mankind. At the time I was in a relationship going on 8 years and thought “shame, they just haven’t met the right person”.
Well, 4 years and a divorce later, I tend to agree with the friend who thought committing yourself to one person was akin to committing yourself, period. I have been in love, I have felt the way my heart feels without a certain somebody around, I have felt the heartache of not having that love returned, and felt the heartache that having that love returned brings as well. Conclusion? I don’t think I’d know real love if it got up and bit me on the arse. I’d enjoy it, but I wouldn’t identify it for what it was. I’ve been “in love” far too many times to count, and that alone signals the warning bells of seeing more in something that is merely a fleeting romance; a mere pethadine shot for the soul that feels so good you don’t want it to end but it wears off once the chemicals subside. So when the real thing hits, I’d dismiss it. If the real thing exists.
Life’s there to have fun. I wish to fuck I’d keep that in mind sometimes, really I do.
PS. It is part I as I know I’ll have more to say on this at some point…