Love as a mean

One of the thing that I am realising, in this autumn of my spring, is that I am not looking for a girlfriend, a companion, a femme, as an end, but as a mean. I don’t like it either, but I rather admit it than live in denial. But what do I mean, exactly. It means that I am looking for a companion to have a family. To build a family. Not to be lonely. To be able, more easily, to transform my rough sexuality into daily affection. I am not… finding a woman, and then wanting to have a relationship because I like her so much, and then wanting to deepen my relationship because I am curious, and then wanting to have kids to make our relationship immortal. No, no, no. I am putting the cart before the horse.

You might say, and you have reached half thirty to discover this truth. What have you been doing the rest of your life? Sleeping? Dreaming. Indeed I was, but I was dreaming that although I was putting the cart before the horse, I was actually able to change this. This was my dream. On this I was wrong. I hoped to be able to do it. I claimed to be independent. I left my family, my town, my region, and the people of my culture, following this dream of independence. And what did I got? Unrootedness. Few relationships. A general inability to relate.¹

The fact that I look for a relationship, instead of just living my relationships, brings a whole lot of clumsiness in all I do. Essentially any woman can potentially satisfy me, I have a low filter. Of course if she seems ugly at my eyes, or I don’t like her smell, you can’t really help. But between not being ugly, and being beautiful there is a whole range. A whole range that I accept in toto.²

Similarly a woman with whom I have no chemistry at all, or no intellectual chemistry hardly makes it in my book. Yet this is enough to have many, many possible women available. And since each (of those) women has the cards to become my companion, every time I meet such a woman I am seriously interested. In other words, I can fall in love again and again, for different women in very brief time.

Can you imagine how it is. It’s hard. You lack stability. Women feel how your need predominate the simple pleasure to be with them. Was it because of my mother, or because of society? I don’t know. Am I simply a beta male, undeserving the first choise in the male meal? I hope not.

But it wasn’t always like this. There were brief moments in which I felt on top of the world. I felt I could dominate it, and I could take what was naturally mine. The most beautiful, the gorgeous, unique genious woman. But those periods lacked stability. More than a decade and a half of meditation didn’t manage to transform me into the male I would like to be.

And the more I go on, the worse is becoming. This is what is burning me. That I don’t feel any progress, but an actual regress. I am less stable than before. More needy. In a sense more able to accept compromise (which is often considered a sign of wisdom, or just of weakness). The more I go on the clearer I know how to destroy a relationship with the wrong phone call. Saying the wrong thing in what would have been the right moment. I have developed an intuitive, and rational understanding of what is the right behaviour to be splendid. Side by side to an hormonal compulsion that often forces me to act in uncool, needy, ways.

In the past this duality have also harmed me quite directly. I would be amazing for a woman, until we reached the first kiss, or the first date, or the first something. And then I would drop the mask. I would desire to drop the mask all the way, but I would only do it later. But later was still too soon. Was still before. Before having sex. Before having her really trust me. In short before the right moment to do it.

And I have the impression, although I don’t have a clear memory, that making love without dropping the mask, would be stupid, useless, superficial. Vulgar!

In one word fake. And authenticity scores high in the hit parade of my values.

So here I am. Hormonally unbalanced, needy, with a compulsive behaviour and a compulsive need to tell the truth. To embody the truth… eventually. How can some women think of me as a womanizer is still a mystery to me.

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1. I also got to be much more succesful in my job than most of my friends who stayed home. And this is good. In fact if I were to chose between having a good relationship and a boring job, or a lousy relationship and a job that expresses who I truly am, I would have no doubt. But still is painful.

2. And don’t be wrong. Sometimes women who are so ugly to be unpleasent, can be rally good in bed. They bring you the three gifts of innocence, gratitude, and the strong desire to finally do all that have been denied to them for so much time.