I'm a cynical person when it comes to romance, if you haven't already noticed. I'd prefer the term realist, if I had a choice, but apparently I do not.
With my already cynical mindset, I've recently been exposed to more fantasy/ideology shattering situations because of my job. Cheating men, abusive and manipulative husbands, and boyfriends who don't pay child support. Even with senior services, I see mostly women whose husbands have passed way ( because men really do die sooner), and I'm left with the conclusion that men in life are inconsequential, because we'll all be alone anyway.
I suppose this whole apathy has also been triggered by recent events with this guy (the details of which I refuse to reveal, because the insignificance of the entire event makes it not even worth mentioning). I was bitching about it to someone and bringing in the conclusion about how I can live without men because they'll die on me anyways. A little extreme, I admit, but I was trying to make a point. I argued that I should start getting used to taking care of myself and not needing companionship, because more likely then not, that will be the result of my life: solitude and independence. Judging from my track record (and without any irrational paranoia), it's more likely that I'll be by myself in the end, and each year I should work towards accepting that reality.
Then, my annoyingly positive friend (who is only my friend because she some how manages to also be my best friend while being a hopeless romantic) started scolding me saying that I'm too young to decide that, and if I have that disposition, then my life will really turn out that way, and that I shouldn't lose hope and give up.
That word. Hope.
I argued that there's no sense in having hope, when in the end all you have is disappointment if you are hopeful. She said, some things are worth being disappointed, and that's part of life. She asked me if I am sincerely okay with being hopeless, apathetic, and not willing to work towards anything remotely related to a romantic companionship.
The thing is, this whole thing is a dilemma in me because I think I do still have an ounce of hope, that perhaps, there is someone out there who will teach me companionship. I fear that I will not be able to get rid of that last ounce, and therefore if my future is regular solitude, I will not be able to live my life without some form of chronic cynicism, hence a general unhappiness. This brings me back to the original question of: why have hope? If I have nothing, then nothing will weigh me down.
But, as my friend reminded me, that is the ultimate form of cowardice attitude. You risk nothing so you have nothing. Hope will make you sink, but without sinking, you can't float, unless you tie yourself down.
It's all so fucking annoying. I tend to revert any moment of self-doubt/sadness to anger, so this whole thing makes me mad; especially because it makes me feel weak. Why wouldn't I be happy by myself? I should be strong enough by myself. I should have enough power in me to not seek things from other people. I have been for this long. At least, I've been fine without real support from some guy.
I don't seek anyone to complete me. That whole Jerry Maguire bullshit is not how I see relationships. I do believe in sharing, though, and maybe it has been something within me that hasn't allowed any sharing to happen. I'm just contemplating, still, if hope is worth having, and if so, for how long? When is it being a real person, and when does it become just plain foolish?
I'm not looking for an answer. I just wanted to ponder about this "out loud" (hence, online) and see how I feel on the other end.
P.S. One disclaimer about this whole thing is that I do not believe the male species to be inconsequential. It may be hard to believe, but I have many positive men in my life, my father and brother to start. I'm strictly talking about the relationship aspect, and more specifically the relationship aspect with myself. This is just a hugely self-centered post, really. But hey, it's my blog.