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.
