I am in a great mood today, which is residue from having a great day yesterday. I spent a portion of my day on the Upper West Side as I had to deal with various problems that I had been actively ignoring. I tend to be a bit of an ostrich about conflict- I would rather hide my head then deal directly with it. But I did myself the favor of being proactive and unapologetically straightforward and it was to my benefit. You'd be surprised how my tactic ended up being very beneficial- there's nothing like looking someone in the eye and telling them they they are, indeed, going to straighten out the mess with your graduate transcripts come hell or high water, RIGHT NOW, all with a smile on your face.
After tying up various administrative and emotional loose ends, I spent the afternoon strolling around Central Park in the gorgeous weather and it couldn't have been more lovely. It was one of the nicest afternoons I've spent in New York, truth be told. Which is hilarious, considering that based on the things I had set out to accomplish, I should have been upset and maybe even on the war path, or at least felt badly for being the bearer of bad dating news, as I'd an appointment to do. But no. It was great. It was a relief, and I was so overjoyed to have all the knots in my stomach untied. It was one of those times that I imagine that when I'm very, very old, I'll look back upon fondly, and mumble the lines of my favorite Edna St. Vincent Millay poem to myself and picture. "Oh kids, your Grandma used to entertain lots of handsome gentleman callers in the cosmopolitan city of New York...and some of them she porked, too."
I spent a lot of the time I was walking in Central Park thinking about the nature of love and why it is that we love one person and not another. What is it that makes us unable to care for one person, who we should by all means be with because they are kind and good and sincere? Why is it that two people who have every reason to love one another don't, and two people who are a miserable match cling to one another? When is it that we fall out of love with someone- how does that happen? Can a nigga get a table dance? I was walking along, looking at all the gorgeous things in the park, and thinking about the last time I took a long stroll like that, and that when I did I was with someone who I was in love with. And that now, years later, it's gone and I have nothing to show for it. I don't know when I fell out of love, only that I did. I don't remember the day it happened, but one day I looked at him and I knew it. And once that thought comes into your head, there's no going back. I stayed for a long time, though. And I was trying to explain this to someone yesterday and it came out all wrong. I stayed much longer than I should have in that relationship, and yes I wasn't in romantic love with him, but I did genuinely love him. This is all very confusing still but I guess I wanted to write it down so that later, when I am able, I can look at it and try to make sense of it.
Anyway, that sounds quite sad. But it's not, in fact it's kind of reassuring. Because I realize I don't have a clue about love and men and realtionships, and I don't really fucking care. I declare a citizen's divorce from caring.