I Think I’ll Stay Single

Finding the right woman is arduous.

Photo by Adrian Swancar on Unsplash

Please allow me to disabuse my lady readers of what I suspect you’re thinking. I’m not: a jerk/player/ liar/ hero/ closed off he-man/ misogynist/ rapist/ mental case/non-bather or/ butt ugly. (last part could be debated)

I’ve had some amazing relationships that ultimately failed. So, I went to shrinks & don’t mind admitting it. Collectively, they don’t think I’m imbalanced, have Daddy Issues, am trying to self-defeat (de feet is de issue, dey smell like turpentine) phobic, malfunctional, sexually bent, OCD, anal retentive or just every day fucked up.

So Why Don’t I Have A Girlfriend?

What do you call it when you’re tired, unenthused about dating, disappointed, losing a bit of self-confidence, maybe a tiny bit depressed? BURNED OUT? That has a ring to it.

There was a comedian in the 1930s into the 1950s. So I’m told! I’m not that old! W,C, Fields, who said, “Ah yes, I met a beautiful blonde once. She drove me to drink. That’s the one thing I’m indebted to her for.”

I’m not unhappy living alone. I have nice condo, a loving cat, I work, write, go to the gym, run around the house nekkid, practice Spanish & French, come and go as I please, have only myself to answer to. I read, write, fly airplanes, don’t watch TV, have and offer privacy, keep my house clean and neat. So there.

My Decision:

Is to decide nothing! I’ve turned my life over to stars and the related cosmos. You guys got my back. Go for it.

What makes this so damn hard is that I live in Dallas. Merciful heavens, there are more beautiful, stylish, smart women all OVER this place, way more than any other place I know. But I’m a man, right? (drum roll) A steely-eyed, unemotional, hardass, over-muscled dipshit. So the question is, who’d want me? Unknown at, um, this, ah, juncture.

But it’s been constructive. Still is. Nothing wrong with diving into your own depths, in fact, it’s quite valuable. I know myself pretty well and actually approve of who I am. It’s been said a zillion times, you cannot truly love another until you approve of and love yourself. Your self IS home.

Words By Willie Nelson

I looked to the stars
Tried all of the bars
And I’ve nearly gone up in smoke

Now my hand’s on the wheel
Something that’s real
And I feel like I’m going home.

Published poet, pilot. Loves humor, quantum physics, all things artistic and sensual. TX liberal, Cajun, mentors at-risk kids, seeks equality for everyone.