Unrequited Love Blog

I have really thin skin today.  I keep calling myself an idiot about the whole thing with Jessica, and generally feeling like a socially awkward, well, idiot. It’s funny how this cycle of self-criticism:realistic analysis:overinflated hopeful evaluation:self-criticism keeps looping around and around.  The intensity levels may vary a bit, bit it’s essentially the same stuff.

Today, a self-critical thin-skinned day, I realize how geeky I tend to come across, and I wish I were smoother.  I want better clothes, more money, more youth, more chances to start over again.  Have you seen the movie “Adaptation” with Nicolas Cage and Meryl Streep?  Charlie Kaufman is such a good writer, poignant and universal.  Toward the end of the movie, after the orchid hunter is killed, Meryl Streep’s character cries, eventually saying “I want to be a baby again, I want to start over, I want to do the whole thing over, I want to be a baby again.”  That’s kind of how I feel today.  Maybe this is tied to my feelings about my mother, and my associations between feelings about Jessica and feelings about my mother (see “Later in September Month 16″).

Also in this movie, Charlie Kaufman and his fictional twin brother Donald are talking, Charlie is telling Donald that Donald was laughed at by the girl he was in love with in high school.  Donald (the life-affirming, out-going twin) says yes, he knew that, he heard her talking about him as he walked away.  But it was his love, and no one was going to take it away from him, not even the girl he was in love with.  I also feel like this at times.  It’s my love, even if I’m the only one who feels it or even sees it as legitimate or “real” or…I don’t know…noble or something, the kinds of things love should be.  Hmmm, maybe I’ll write a film review of Adaptation for the website.

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I’ve been reading back over my own blog, trying to get a sense of how I felt over time, as well as how I come across on the blog.  One thing that occurs to me is how incredibly cliche I am for falling for a younger student when I’m just pushing middle-aged.  Also, how incredibly cliche (or typical, to be kinder) I am in my general reactions — jealous, possessive, obsessive, writing bad poetry (see “Unrequited” on Musings page of website), insecure, self-critical.  Really, I’m not usually so neurotic.  It’s love that has made me neurotic !   Or, the unrequited variety of love, at least.

I’m typically not a poetry writer.  But this is often something people do when in love — write poetry or love notes even if they have never done so before.  It’s so embarrassingly adolescent.  The whole website/blog thing is a little embarrassingly adolescent.  But it’s been helpful, nonetheless, to be able to express some of this stuff.  Anonymously.  Thank God.

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This may be a bad decision. As my divorce becomes more real, I’m more afraid I will regret it. That I’m being childish, selfish, fantastical, and trying to act way too young for my age. Not sure what to do about this. I try to think, if I were my own patient, what would I recommend or how would I see myself? It’s hard to get outside of yourself, but I think I would see myself as perhaps a bit unrealistic regarding relationships, but also that I am in a not-so-good marriage and I could probably feel happier with someone else.

The more you talk about something, the more real it gets, the more committed you become to that course of action. I can feel this happening to me with my divorce, I just hope it won’t be an “oops” situation.

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My Spouse is busy telling me she thinks I need to grow up.  That I want this grand passionate love that is essentially a child’s fantasy, the fantasy of an innocent.  She says my innocence is a large part of what she loves about me, and what will ultimately break us apart.

Spouse clearly comes down on the side of stable, companionate love where de-stabilizing passion is naturally minimized over time, and/or does not really exist in the first place.  Certainly, she sees passion as  not a reason to end a marriage, to alter a life course you committed to.  She keeps emphasizing my age, i.e., I’m too old to be having a wild sexual/dating life, I’m pursuing a fantasy more appropriate to someone in their twenties.

It’s so confusing to know what to make of everything.  Spouse may be right.  Although Therapist says Spouse and I do not really share enough values or interests in life to be truly compatible.  Therapist does seem to perceive Spouse as very much being dependent on me, taking advantage of me financially and emotionally/motivationally.  Of course, Therapist doesn’t say this, but intimates it.

Certainly I’m very concerned with my age, feeling too old to be going through all this shit.  I can’t believe I’ve gotten so old.  Just wait, you won’t believe it when it happens to you, either.  One day I was in my early 30s, the next day I was in my late 30s, and suddenly I’m in my early 40s, clearly moving past the age that most people find women sexually attractive.  Sure, I’m scared I won’t ever have a good relationship again.  Sure, I’m afraid I’m sort of fading into the wood-work (the background).  But still, I hate the house, can’t live this way any more, don’t at all believe Spouse will ever be able to change her messiness.  I’m bored, I hate the suburbs.  I’m incredibly sexually focused, more so than I’ve ever been in my life and I had a moderately high sex drive to begin with.  I’ll be god-damned if I’ll sit around not having sex the rest of my life, or forcing myself to have sex with someone that I love but simply am not sexually attracted to.

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Just thought I’d share that I’m feeling sad again today. Depressed, really. I think it’s related to my upcoming divorce and feeling unattractive and alone. I’m thinking a little about Jessica and trying not to. I’m more aware she is likely starting a family, she will be pregnant any day now (if she’s hasn’t already had a baby) and really moving forward with her life, and I really need to not be thinking about her. Even my thinking about her feels intrusive (towards her, I mean).  I really need to not be thinking about a pregnant, married woman.

And I can feel depression on the heels of love, I can feel it coming. It’s partly wrapped up in not being able to be with or get to know Jessica, but bigger than that, too. The bone-weary, depleted, tears-in-my-throat sort of feeling of being disappointed in life, disappointed in myself, having the veils of self-delusion ripped away by reality. “What? Romance? Listen, you’re not that hot. Face it, you’re middle-aged. You really should of just kept what you had. You can’t afford a decent place in the city, anyway. Your dog is a huge problem (and certainly doesn’t win you friends). You’ll be poor and alone, instead of just poor.”

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