We were just sitting around in Colin’s living room watching Top Gear and having a few beers. His brother, Kyle, was in town visiting for a few days before heading back to New York. I hadn’t seen him since we were kids and he didn’t look all that much different than how I remembered him. Colin had told me that he was finishing up med school out there and then moving back in the middle of the summer. I went outside to go smoke a cigarette and he followed me, I figured it would be an interesting conversation, but his phone rang before anything could be said.
I really do despise those “let me stand here and listen to your phone call” moments, but this one was slightly more interesting than most. He started catching up with someone I figured he hadn’t talked to in a while. Before long he was telling this guy about how his fiancée all the sudden decided to jump ship after five years; she basically kicked him out of the apartment and decided she wanted her own thing. I guess that seems to be the popular reason behind moving back from Brooklyn these days.
I didn’t really feel like probing what I’m sure was a sore topic, but he started talking about it when we got back inside. For the first couple minutes he is talking about the confusion, anger vs. sadness and the like, but after a minute he says something that really hits home:
“I’m pretty much sure that I am not interested in getting married anymore, really not interested in dating again either.”
Now I get that it just happened to him and that he is pretty bitter, but I sure do sympathize with him. I have long gotten over the anger and real sadness, I do get the occasional twinge every now and then, but after seven or so months I really don’t pay it much mind. What I do pay mind to is the ridiculously strong desire I have now: no relationships.
I suppose I don’t mean “no relationships” as in no contact with the opposite sex, but more than I don’t want a commitment, especially if it involves my heart. They say that the kid who touches the hot oven learns right away not to do it again. I, on the other hand, touched it twice and am not interested in getting burned again…especially since they have gotten worse each time. I’m not interested in laying blame on anyone anymore, myself or the other parties, because I know it’s no one way street, regardless of how much some people want it to be.
I am enjoying what is going on in life so much right now, why on earth would I ever want to jeopardize this again? I don’t want to be in the position to be either the offender or the offended and I don’t want to have to curse myself or blame someone else for my pain. Right now, there really isn’t any pain nor stress and I do like it this way. The fact of the matter is that I have never seen things so clearly, especially now that I don’t have “love” and all of its fucking stresses to deal with.
Now some day there may be some sweet girl who comes along and convinces me to rethink this standpoint; unfortunately the memories of hurting, being hurt and starting over are too much to forget. Sure, I may be able to disassociate most of the emotions from those events, but I definitely will not forget them and I sure as hell am not looking to make new ones. In the end it seems like all the good memories get washed away by the bad ones anyway; I’m done taking that risk. No more touching the stove for this kid.