existential loneliness at the dryer

most of the time i am okay with my single status. I definitely have those moments where i feel this melancolic haze about what things could be like, but i've been maturing and realizing that my life is as good as it will ever be, so dwelling on how things could be better is a waste of time.

but then i have these ridiculous moments where i don't want to feel so alone. pulling my laundry out of the dryer today, it hit. what do i expect? someone to clean the lint out of the lint trap with me, each of us holding a plastic edge, while my other hand reaches out to wipe away the sheet of linty fibers.

i realize fully that this is ridiculous.

most classicly, it's the waking up each morning that i find the toughest. i have no problem coming home to an empty bed, but waking up inside of one is more frightening. i roll over each morning to a vacant slot with an unused pillow next to it. the delight and/or regularity of having someone there is something i have never really been able to get used to.

so much so that I have much difficulty in the past sleeping next to someone. i get insomnia, that usually fuels my love sickness, and makes me loopy as can be.

George oppen talks about the moment of awakening quite extensively in his poetry. it is the moment that light hits our eyes that we realized that we exist. we see something that proves that we are expereincing, that we are alive. maybe what i long for is to see a mirror image, a male image that reminds me that I exist. that i am not just a floating entity. Is this what true love is able to prove to us? That we exist, quite simply, alongside of each other. Proximity becomes comforting, even though we experience alone. Why is romantic love different?

I don't mean this in a way that being with a man would as the cliche goes "fill the void" inside of me, but I do desire to feel presence of a certain masculine variety. Presence, being present . . . engagement.

I watched a man on the bus yesterday methodically change his text message to someone that I presume was a girlfriend. He slowly made the message he was sending to her less and less engaged. It went from something like "let's meet here at this time" to "lemme know" (let me was spelled just like that) . . . text messaging is the best thing that ever happened to boys.

the desire for presence is such a female desire, and the desire for casual freedom such a masculine one. i resent feeling like such a cliche.