Subtext

Birdie was not happy to read about herself here, as one would imagine, and probably not in a charitable mood.  Who could blame her?

I wanted to tell her that "It's easy to mistake my self-criticism for arrogance."  But what was the point, really?  Everytime I write here, it's a futile attempt to express myself, to explain myself, and I only think that I'm conveying something.  The likelihood of communicating what I mean to say is "infinitesimal".  It's the title for a reason.

She was the inspiration for my words, though. She was in some ways the high-water mark that made me realize the pointlessness of my search.  Literate and liberal, fit and feisty.  But no lasting spark between us, we were at two different points of life, etc.  It made me wonder... if this close of a match wasn't good enough, what would be?

And what of my other match, the masochist? 

She is even more closer in world view to me, a pragmatist, and as we all are, flawed, of course.  She is quite aware of her flaws, though, and I admire that she is in the upper bracket of self-awareness when it comes to humanity's range.

Nonetheless, I really do think that the relationship would have ended if it weren't for the fact that she has two other men in her life, and as a result we do not duplicate certain parts of a relationship.  It is somewhat like what the prof expressed to me... that knowing that there was someone else made us better participants.

But I worry that discussing this idea, as we did this week thanks to my inability to keep my thoughts to myself, might be jinxing it.


And thus the final twists of my romantic death spiral seems imminent.

Placing me squarely back at the point of emptiness, self-devised, self-declared, self-sabotaged, self-denied.

All I can be sure of is that I still feel that searching for anything different is hopeless.

And that's not a good place to start.