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These Are Things I Think About
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Today is the fourth Valentine's Day running that I'm single. This fact alone doesn't bother me so much, as I'm enough of an over-educated socialist liberal to recognize that Valentine's Day is just a Hallmark holiday created to sell heart-shaped boxes of candy and edible underwear. However, Valentine's Day was also my anniversary in my last long-term, ill-fated relationship. (I thought I was being clever, asking my ex to make our relationship official on Valentine's Day. Kill two birds with one stone, you know? Turns out I was just fucking myself with a two-sided dildo.)
If I sound a little jaded, it's because I am. In case you haven't been around any single thirty-somethings lately, let me illuminate one very important point for you - being single in your thirties sucks. There are no tall, dark and handsome men pulling up in a chauffeured car offering you a completely grope-free ride home. Being single in your thirties is more like that scene at the end of the Titanic, when all the survivors are on the rescue ship - just a bunch of weary, depressed, shell-shocked people stumbling around, wondering how the hell they got caught up in this mess. Because if you're single into your thirties, you've seen some shit. You're a vet. You've probably had relationships, maybe even a marriage, that didn't work out for any number of reasons (infidelity, lying, lack of communication, abuse, intimacy issues, and good old "irreconcilable differences). You're burnt out, skittish, so hyper-aware of red flags that your new SO need only cough the way your ex used to, and you're screaming "Dealbreaker!" and running for the hills. And that's not even taking into account whatever other shit life has thrown at you in the previous three+ decades - family dysfunction, physical trauma, career setbacks, etc. Now, for the record, I'm not saying that people who are in relationships live charmed lives. The grass is not always greener, and can, in fact, on many occasions, be dry, weedy and diseased. The point I'm making is that the older we get, the more fucked-up we become, and the harder it is to find someone whose type and level of fucked-up-ness is simpatico with your own. Of course, one way to counter-act that (besides hunkering down with a dozen cats) is therapy (with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for psychiatry, bitches #throwback #musicman). Yup, I mean sitting down with a licensed, trained professional to talk about whatever shit from your past is making you depressed, anxious, violent, withdrawn, whatever. Because I believe that is the last, best hope for any of us to be healed enough to have a functional relationship with another human. And I address this post to the men because honestly, at least in my experience, women don't need to be told to go to therapy. Women (at least the ones I know) loooove therapy. I can count on one hand the women I know who haven't been to therapy. For the men I know, it's the complete opposite. Statistics bear out my anecdotal evidence on a larger scale. And while there are myriad reasons why seeking mental health counseling is beneficial in all aspects of life, for the purposes of this blog post, I'm focusing on one specific benefit - it would make dating a lot fucking easier on everyone. It's really hard to date someone who's a tangled knot of unresolved trauma, insecurity, anger, confusion and paranoia (trust me - I've been that person, and dated that person). Having recognized that, I did what any reasonable person would do - I sought help with untangling those knots, so that I might be a healthier, more functional partner to some lucky gentleman someday. But I get frustrated knowing that more than likely (and again, there's evidence backing me up) my would-be paramour is not out there doing the same kind of work on himself that I'm doing on myself. So where does that leave me, and all the women like me? Think of it this way. If I'm a runner who runs 3 miles every day (and remember, this is a hypothetical scenario, because I would never do something so cruel to myself as running), I can't have a training partner who only runs a mile once every few weeks. We're not at the same level, and they're not going to be able to keep up with me. Same with working on yourself mentally and emotionally. I'm not saying I have all of my shit processed and resolved; far from it. But at least I've opened the baggage and started unpacking it. It's frustrating to meet a guy who's still got all his bags stuffed in the deep recesses of his attic, completely untouched. You can't expect women to take on all the emotional labor of fixing themselves, and fixing you too. Meet us halfway, dudes. Be a little introspective. Think about what might have gone wrong in your past relationships, or how past pain and trauma might be informing the way you currently act towards women. And if you're not sure what to do to change it, that's ok: that's what therapists are for. Look, I know therapy is expensive. And time-consuming. And hard. As my first therapist told me, "The hardest thing to do is change how you think about something." And that's still true, 17 fucking years later. But every change I've made, however incremental, has made my life better. And it can make your life better too. Because maybe next Valentine's Day, instead of sitting alone in your room reading my dumb blog, you could be in my room, watching me write my blog, and then when I'm done, we can bust out the heart-shaped chocolates and edible undies, and have some good, old-fashioned V-Day fun. February 2019 has only just begun, but already the 2020 Presidential election is looming large in the minds of democracy-minded citizens throughout the U.S. How could it not? As of this writing, we're in the eye of a Trump-made hurricane using federal employees as leverage to get billions of dollars for a largely symbolic, likely ineffective border wall; the Mueller investigation continues to peel back layers of the most rotten onion in history, and the president continues to construct a glass house made of hamberders and his own delusions. The hope that we will elect an intellectually competent, emotionally stable individual (re: non-Republican) who has some qualifications or at least a modicum of respect for the office of the U.S. president is the shining beacon we are crawling towards during this endless waking nightmare.
And so far, even though we are just over a month into 2019, there are a lot of people vying to be that individual. Practically every week since the beginning of the year, someone else throws their hat in the ring, or forms an exploratory committee to decide if they should throw their hat in the ring. Within hours of these announcements, social media is blossoming with posts that are either: A) "Hell yeah, [Candidate X] is running! We're saved! [Candidate x] 2020!" or B) "[Candidate X] is the worst piece of trash to ever hold public office! Never [Candidate X]!" Look, I'm not saying passion is a bad thing. I get it. I will still fight anyone who claims *NSync is superior to the Backstreet Boys, even though no one (including the bands themselves) have cared about this rivalry since approximately 2002. And it's clear we need more engagement in our elections and political processes, not less. But if 2016 taught us anything, it's that election cycles are long and anything - and I mean anything - can happen. Remember July 2015 when Trump descended that escalator and said he was running for President and we all laughed at this silly publicity stunt and said it would never happen? From that moment, until Hillary Clinton gave her concession speech on November 9, 2016, I don't think Nostradamus himself could have predicted that events would unfold the way they did. So this is a heartfelt request, a gentle reminder for everyone to just be cool. Stay engaged, absolutely. Learn about the candidates, their platforms and their records. If there is someone who really gets you jazzed, donate or volunteer with their campaign. That will increase the likelihood that your candidate will be the one to face off against Trump in 2020. But also, keep an open mind. A lot of information is going to come out about all of these candidates, and yes, some of it will be unpleasant. It's ok to change your mind, or take your time in deciding who you want to support. This is a marathon, not a sprint, friends. I know many of us are scared, angry, baffled and exhausted from dealing with two years of a Trump presidency, and desperate for a change to set us on a path not just towards a functioning democracy, but an improved one that corrects many of the problems and injustices that have existed for decades. I am right there with you. I want to believe that can happen next year, but we'll need equal parts fiery passion in our guts and cool pragmatism in our heads to make that happen. Supposedly logic and critical thinking skills are something the left have going for them that the right doesn't, so let's lean into that, shall we? There are 638 days until November 3, 2020. Let's just be rational, be open-minded, and take each day as it comes. Because a lot of shit can happen in 638 days. |
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