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Recently I’ve thought a lot about what it means to date and to actually try to be involved with someone. For starters you need to be open to a multitude of things including accepting the intricacies and oddities of a person and accepting that sharing a life with them means that you are opening yourself and your life up to scrutiny, expectation, and change.

Sounds horrible, doesn’t it?

It shouldn’t. The idea of joining with another person ought to be a good feeling. I think if you’re looking you ought to be looking for a chance to expand and become part of something else and or something new. I’m not, which is probably why I am not dating. I feel very much the rocket locked in the launch bay and unable to fire up the engine. In other words, I have everything I need in life right here, but it just isn’t how it ought to be or in any way that supports a deep and lasting state of happiness. So I wind up catching glimpses of what my life should look like or caught up in a world of swipes and disappointment. If there is a third option I’ve yet to uncover it.

I’m a slave in a sense to more than love. I’m a slave to hope. I’m a slave to my biases and tastes. I’m a slave to the story of it all and to the idea that you only leave something behind for something else that is right and good and better. I am a slave to all these things but I function in the web of a society that is a slave to none. And it is because of who I am that I am where I am. Looks like it will only get worse.

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