Those pictures I promised

I am tired, as in exhausted, and in need of a nap. I told myself I had to do some errands today, but when I got to a place I could crash, I decided that a lot of these errands could wait til Thursday. My eye has been twitching all day, and while I think it just means I’m tired, it’s annoying the shit out of me.

Last night I had dinner with my oldest friend, as in I’ve known her since I was six, not as in she’s 104 or anything. Anyway, as Lauren and I grew up, our lives drifted apart. I had a boyfriend for nine years and she was eternally single. We moved into our first apartment together in New York, on 28th St. and 2nd Ave, and we grew closer. It’s almost as if living together made us switch lives…like Freaky Friday, only different.

See, on the very same night that I ended my lengthy relationship - November 30, 1998 and no, I’m not psycho, it happens to be my sister’s birthday so, of course I remember - she began the relationship with the man who would be her future husband.

My life as a twosome had been trimmed down to one, while her life as a single girl was over forever, or at least for a long, long time, since nothing lasts forever, and I’m not saying that in a morbid way. Now she’s married and looking to move to a place where she can start her family, and I’m single and looking for space to understand myself better.

I realized that I’ve never felt more alone than I do on the verge of thirty. But it’s in a good way. How often do we really get to know ourselves? How often do we spend enough alone time actually alone? I mean no calls, no worries, no wandering mind, that sort of alone time. The kind of alone where you do things that make you happy for the simple pleasure of rediscovering yourself.

These past few months I have remained alone because I have choices to make that can’t involve anyone else. And while it’s hard for some people to understand that I need to be this way, it’s the only way I want to be. I know that anyone I meet over the next few weeks, or months, are people that I can’t commit to. I can’t give them anything more than less than everything. And this experience is different than any other I’ve ever had, because I am incapable of a relationship. Emotionally unavailable. Geographically undesirable.

Things I’ve always hated about a lot of the people I’ve been attracted to. Things I thought I’d never become, because so many of the people I dated fit that mold. Things that I realize I now am.