(If you’re interested, read Meeting Miss Right, and Meeting Miss Right Again first)
Introduction
For those of you who haven’t heard me endlessly droning out my monologue about it, I have been on a journey of self-discovery. Well, technically, it’s not really self-discovery because I am getting help from amateurs and professionals alike.
But it’s not like they should be taking all the credit either, limelight-stealing motherfuckers.
Semantic bickering aside, this massive psychological overhaul was kicked-off by my devastating heartbreak at the end of 2005, which then passed through a bumpy ride in Belgium, a financially horrifying 2006 and the most marvelous discovery that I actually, really loved someone. All of which brings us to today: facing down Cupid’s gun barrel for yet another St. Valentine’s. But, for once, I’m armed and ready.
The Realization
Sometime during the meandering course of my last 5 years or so, the women that I had been meeting and romantically pursuing all changed. They changed significantly and they changed in the same way in which birthdays and special occasions have changed: imperceptibly, slowly but undeniably. One minute, you are hopping from house party to 21st and the next, you are attending bachelor parties and weddings. And then one day you wake up on a sleepy Sunday morning realizing that it is ruined because you have to attend a Christening. And so, there you sit, on the edge of your bed, asking yourself: where did all the 21st birthdays go? When did my friends start getting married? When did they start having children? When did I change from being Cedric to being Uncle Cedric? Did I really drink that much tequila last night? And whose panties are those?
So, what I mean to say is that the ladies I’m talking about changed like that.
I distinctively remember hanging around with young, relatively inexperienced but fun women who were open and honest, and ready to find love. They were looking for the Great Romance. Once upon a time, I think that we all were.
And so, a while back, I found myself staring in open-mouth amazement at the women that I had managed to surround myself with. I looked at this collective of the desperately lonely, the bitter, the broken-hearted and the divorced, and I think to myself: How did this happen? Where did they all come from? When did all the warm and loving women go? Have they really all been replaced by this nightmarish labyrinth of fortresses walls and stone-cold, wind-swept bitterness? Did I really drink that much tequila last night? And whose panties are those?
And to be honest, I didn’t notice at first. It kind of crept up and smacked me on the back of the head, much like a stealthy Ninja assassin. I found myself listening to some woman telling me how happy she was by herself, how fulfilling her life was, and how her bad break-up/divorce was the best thing to happen to her. She then goes on to repeat, again and again, how happy she is, how “she’ll be ok” and that love is over-rated anyway because she’s got friends.
Something snapped.
All I wanted to do was stand up and scream: “Happy people, people who are genuinely happy, don’t walk around telling everyone else how happy they are! They just are! Divorces and break-ups are messy, fucked-up things! Stop pretending that it was the best thing ever!
“For fuck’s sakes, don’t you realize that your emperor has no clothes? Don’t you realize that everyone sees how ridiculously miserable, lonely and in pain you are? Stop fucking pretending! Everything is your life - every word out of your mouth - every action that you take is shouting down every claim you make about being happy! Give it up!
But I didn’t. I didn’t because I realized that I was doing exactly the same thing.
Of fortresses and stone walls
You see, at that moment, I realized that I had been walking around shielded, closed-in and completely emotionally uncommitted. I believed, as all the broken-hearted do, that real strength comes from being emotionally invulnerable and untouched by true intimacy. I had my heart broken, and I reacted with fear and anger: only behind mighty fortress walls could my heart be invulnerable and untouchable. “No-one will hurt me again” hung outside the walls on pennants and flags. It became my motto.
But like attracts like, and so pretty soon I started meeting girls that were equally isolated and untouchable.
It’s so easy to see, now, with the searing gaze of hindsight (although, I must say that being tequila-free doesn’t do any harm either). And we all played the same game: we picked partners that would never, in a thousand years, threaten our emotional isolation. This was strictly a no-contact game. And, when one of us slipped up, got too close, it was time to end it.
You don’t need me to tell you all of this, you can see it all around you, amongst the divorcees, the bitterly heart-broken, and all the other injured veterans from love’s Great War. You can see them as they hobble from bar to party, unfulfilled and unloved but, tragically, comically, unwilling and unable to let any one approach. You can see them as they add more stone and more mortar to their fortress wall with each self-fulfillingly failed relationship.
The danger with high walls, of course, is that, while they are really good at keeping things out, they’re more often better at keeping things in.
Birds of a Feather
My dad always said that if you were unhappy (mal dans sa peaux), you will meet people that are similarly unhappy (mal dans sa peaux). Simply put, birds of a feather tend to flock together. And, anecdotally at least, it is true. That’s because human beings are social creature and no man is an island except, maybe, for the really, really tubby ones.
But who is a man or a woman who is petrified of true intimacy going to befriend? Certainly not anyone who would challenge their mighty walls, and not anyone who would try to get in close! And so, as inevitably as a dog will lick his crotch, the shut-up and shut-out slowly meet and hang onto each other - a hilarious and hysterical gaggle of divorced and heart-broken fools bound together by a common and unspoken motto: “No-one will hurt me again”.
There, we patted ourselves on the back and told ourselves that we are unlovable, that we were the rational, easy-going ones. We got to tell ourselves that we couldn’t find anyone to love us because were so strong and so special and so unique that there just wasn’t anyone to match us. We got to pat ourselves on the back and say we were really trying.
But you know what? That’s fucking bullshit. We couldn’t find anyone to love us because we wouldn’t let them.
In those circles, the unspoken rule is that no-one must talk about the simple truths of loneliness and pain. In those circles, it’s easy to ignore the knocking at the fortress gate because all your friends are telling you it’s only the wind. It’s all on auto-pilot from there.
Out of the labyrinth
One day, then, to really over-stretch an already tired metaphor, I heard something. It was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. It was coming from outside, and it wasn’t the wind. It was a beautiful and very sad voice, like an angel in pain, or like Mila Jovovich telling you that she couldn’t possibly have sex with you a sixth time in a row.
But the sound was so beautiful, and so desperate, that I did something unthinkable: I walked out. I walked out into the sunlight and I breathed fresh air.
OK, so it wasn’t as easy as all that. This kind of ingrained and well-developed emotional paranoia doesn’t just disappear overnight, and I know many a good woman (and a few men – but not in that way) that are so trapped and afraid that they will never escape. In all reality, it was harrowing and devastating and I’m not even close to being finished but, you know what? I am free and that is all that matters.
It is all that matters because it allowed me to explore the world and slowly track down the haunting voice that I heard. And, despite that I got lost a few times along the way, I eventually found it: the voice was coming, weakened but still audible from within the massively monolithic fortress walls built around the woman I Loved (notice the use of the capital L there). Fuck.
I’ve tried scaling the walls. I’ve tried knocking. I’ve tried breaking down the battlements but to no avail. I’ve even tried scratching my way through it with bloodied nails and claw. But I am just a man and there’s only so much I can do against a cliff face of fear and a volley of excuses. She is sealed from the world and she won’t come out.
Maybe one day she will, and I hope she does. After all, hoping is what Love does best.
Where I am
So there you have it. I am free. I am not afraid. I’ve had enough of hiding. I’ve had enough of coming up with excuses and playing these stupid fucking games. My Love for someone else forced me out of my shell and there is no way I am coming back. I have learned to stand tall without parapets, barbicans and walls. I am striding across wilderness like a giant.
I look at where I used to be, and where many still are and think to myself: “What a joke!” And I marvel at the lengths they will go to avoid being open. I look at the vast landscape that I thought was once filled with castles and fortresses, and see them for what they are: the huddling masses sticking their fingers in their ears, eyes shut and singing loudly. Once the game is exposed, there is no turning back.
Hopeless, sad fools, each and every one of us.
But I get it, now! Love is not this fragile, vulnerable thing. It isn’t weak. It doesn’t need protection. It does not hide behind walls and in labyrinths and excuses. Love is strong. Love is the will to be hurt. Love is taking that step from the castle walls and striding across the land. Love roars. Love fights.
You will never love if you do not have the will to be hurt. I have the will now and it makes me strong. I am flying on a supersonic motherfucking jet of Hellfire. I am filled with the power of the Old Gods, breathing judgment and death on those who oppose me. I am a man free of my shackles! Hear me roar!
Love does not hide. It stands on the tallest mountain, shouting: “Bring it the fuck on!”
To those of you in your walls and fortresses, open your windows. Get some sunshine and fresh air. Step outside, even for just a little bit. You may be very surprised to discover who is waiting for you.
