It comes to me sometimes.
I confess.
Especially in the winter and the dry times.
I start to think, hey, she wants me back, hey, we make more money now, hey, we can work together, hey, I wont be facing the nameless institutions of economics and law alone...hey......
But, I recall that image of the dude waking up on 3 1/2 hours of sleep, changing diapers, not fucking his wife, straight from work to soccer practice, to some horse shit unhealthy dinner, the lack of exercise depleting his Testosterone, the lack of sex depleting his Testosterone, the lack of fucking life draining his will to live, until every day is a meaningless grind whereby he tells himself his life is meaningful by repeating the mantra that he's a good man with kids and a wife and a family and a box full of shit that has been bought with credit and he lives vicariously through his kids, his season of football or whatever-the-fuck-sport, and retreating into his man cave which is just a fucking tomb where his will to live unfettered has been fucking buried and enshrined.
The holidays are tough.
What with the commercials and the music and the media dialing in that it's the time to be with the family you normally can't stand or elect to avoid b/c they're emotionally toxic, even the most ardent lover of independence finds themselves questioning their decisions that have led to being alone on the holidays.
I've always found my sense of being "apart from" rather than "a part of" more pronounced around the holidays.
But, as it is, this is the time to tithe for your independence.
I'll gladly trade the freedom of the rest of the year by being alone on the holidays.
I ride out the holidays alone so that on whatever-day-of-the-week-it-is I'm beholden to select few.
I don't live to be told what to do by others and their expectations.
Do I pay for this with the bouts of loneliness and doubting my solitary lifestyle?
Yes.
But, every time I see the lifeless dude with his kid, or the guy and his wife where you can read on both their faces they have heard literally EVERY thing this person could possibly have to say ever again....I can get up, finish my coffee, and go wherever I please.
My day is mine and mine alone with precious few intrusions and obligations.
Do I find myself in an empty apartment sitting on the floor watching redbox some nights?
Yes.
Am I forced awake/have my day packed full of raising a family, not fucking my wife, and dinner parties with people I can't fucking stand anyway?
No.
All this I pay gladly.
--
I say all of this because the doubt will come.
It will come in the dark of night.
It will rise up from the pit of your stomach.
You will grow weary of the solitude in the fortress you have built.
Doubt will creep into your mind.
You will consider the ease with which you could give in.
Find a girl. They're out there. Just waiting to fucking fill that slot. You, him, whoever. So long as he makes money (or not even sometimes). She wont' be as hot as you've been with in the past.
Have a kid.
They don't show the kid hating you or ending up on drugs/in jail/pregnant in those commercials for baby food.
Get a house.
The bank will gladly let you sign over your soul even if they know/bet you will fall behind.
Hang out with other married people.
Ugh, have you been around married people? Seriously, have you?
Blow your motherfucking brains out.
The only catch is this......once you're in....extricating yourself grows very, very costly and prohibitive.
Once you throw in a kid and a mortgage, unless you pull a Benjamin Button....you truly cannot bail.
Like the insanity of addiction...the day will come....mark my words....the day will come when it sounds like a good idea.
And the wordless whisper will come when you are emotionally depleted, physically tired, psychologically battered and broken....it will come and it will promise to give meaning and sentiment, and joy, and above all....you won't have to be alone.
And you won't be alone....you'll just be so fucking tired you won't have time to feel alone or alive, or anything save the zombie-mode-of-parenthood and spouse-dom and soul-raping-crush of the endless list of shit for others around the clock.
Go ahead.
Take it for a test drive.
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