How Many Soulmates Does It Take To Sink The Titanic?

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I've always been very interested in the idea of life having phases. Not just the huge eras, like Middle Age or the mythical Randy Teen-Ager, but the way that life moves over smaller periods--- a few weeks, a few days, a collection of months. The posturing of astrology is all about phases, about trying to assign meaning to periods of time, because it isn't very satisfying to feel like things just happen. I don't find that there is any fun to be had (or any practical use) in trying to predict the phases. But I am always on the lookout for them. I am always looking to assign a pattern. I'm always looking to declare a context.

I bring it up because right now, for myself, I'm pretty much at a loss to name the game. I don't have any sense of what I am about, or what the purpose of this phase in my life is.

I've had a long stretch of not getting any action--- romantic, sexual, casual, serious: none of the above. I won't say how long it has been, except, possibly, to make a note that is has been a much much shorter time than would be indicated by the amount of drama I am about to assign it. But it is pretty rare for me to have nothing going on. Usually there is at least someone, someone who I am flirting with or fooling around with or seducing or even just fantasizing about seducing. (Oh, yes, I am perfectly capable of having these relationships by myself when it is necessary.) There is almost always at least one person who, even if there is not a lick or smooch or tug, there is at least a real possibility that it might be headed in that direction.

But right now, there is nothing. No one. There is no one I am even distantly romantically engaged with, and there is absolutely no one that I have any kind of physical relationship with. And I have got to tell you, it feels awfully strange. Sure, it is lonely, and all that entails: flesh-hunger, fear of being alone permanently, more flesh-hunger, general boredom. But the peculiar thing is, it also makes me feel disconnected from everyone else. Not just from the people I could hypothetically be getting it on with, but also from all the non-sexual, non-romantic people I know: All of my perfectly platonic friends and acquaintances, as well as from other artists, and entertainers, family, strangers...

It feels like all of the other people--- not all of the people in the world, but all of the people I could possibly care about, which is both a large number and a very small percentage--- all of them are riding in a giant ocean liner, cruising the big glorious dangerous fascinating peaceful unpredictable sea. And I am in a little boat riding alongside. I'm perfectly safe and I even have a radio to talk to the people on the cruise ship. And I am absolutely welcome back on the ship any time. But the ship won't stop or slow down to help me get back on board.

I heard last night about a wedding where the bride and groom composed their vows around the story of The Velveteen Rabbit--- that antique children's book about a sadly non-anti-bacterial toy bunny who is made real by the love of a little boy. In the story, the rabbit only actually becomes real after the boy has gone away from him forever, which I think makes it a questionable choice for a wedding. But metaphorical vagueness aside, naturally the idea was that finding true love had finally made them come alive, and all the nonsense that entails.

A single, uninvolved person at this juncture might have occasion to be a little bit offended (if not holy fucking shit outraged) by the idea that we are hard lifeless objects, devoid of actual being, who can only hope that one day we will be pulled out of storage. Pretty mean thinking. But I hate to admit... it doesn't feel entirely unlike that. Of course I have all manner of other things about my life which are rich and beautiful and frankly exhausting: I have writing and performing and incredibly close and intimate friendships and work and drinking and watching porn and cooking food (not at the same time... maybe punctuation would have been a good idea here...) BUT, there is a fundamental part of the human experience in which, right now, on this day, I am not participating. And that is a cold feeling.

It makes me think about older people. People who really are at a time in their life where all of that is over (probably?). It is a little bit terrifying to imagine. One hopes that the solace once you reach that phase of life is that there are other people you know who are in that phase too. But of course the truth is, for some people there are not. Some people really are just alone. I imagine many of them find a way to be content. Actually, it is ridiculous to think I can imagine it at all.

I have to stress that, right now, for me, it is not an overwhelming source of pain. As I said, I am fairly certain that even without regular intervals of my cock getting tenderly hoovered, I do indeed continue to exist. And I am oh-so-constantly aware that by not being in a relationship, I am being spared all kinds of stress and insecurity and expense and logistical complexity. But it feels undeniably strange.

I expect that the reason matters of love get bent and blown far out of proportion is because many people just do not tolerate this feeling well. For a lot of people this would be an emergency situation. For me... yes, it is scary. Yes, it feels sad. But also, it simply is what it is. Whatever the future is going to be, right now, my life is extraordinarily lifelike.

But, you know... if you are up there on the ship, and you happen to see some kind of rope lying around...


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