Warning: This is going to be a weird post.
Lately I've arrived at a very strange point in my single life. I can't quite put it into words. It's sort of a combination of emotions where I have arrived at a new level of singleness. Let me explain.
Right now I feel pretty satisfied with life. I'm consumed doing something I love, which is writing. In addition, I'm busy with other things like hosting an Internet Radio Show, roleplaying with friends, and taking a trip soon to Vegas. I had a funny thought the other day that if I met someone, and I ended up getting married, I might have to give up some of these time-consuming activities! The thought actually scared me! I feel like I'm clinging to a security blanket, because I've come to love busyness as a substitution.
I'm not saying I don't still mumble to God about my single state, because I do. I still would love to be held, kissed, and have a good roll in the hay (pardon my frankness). However, I think I've come to a place of - that's all there is folks! I'm making the best of my life "as is."
For some nagging reason though I keep thinking of the story of the frog in the pot and am wondering if I'm just getting slowly boiled to death. You've probably heard about it. You put a frog in a kettle filled with cool water and then gradually heat the kettle until it starts boiling. The comfortable frog isn't aware of the changing temperature. When death is imminent, he feels the discomfort, but then it's too late and he ends up cooked! Why in the world I equate that to my single life is quite bizarre.
I guess I wonder if I'm that frog! I've been in the pot alone for 11 years now. I haven't noticed my heart becoming hard as a rock, my desires for love dying, or the fact I've come to accept a fate that might not even be mine! Perhaps I'm using my current life filled with busyness as a substitution for a loving and caring relationship. I have to admit too that getting in another relationship does scare the daylights out of me, and I use all sorts of excuses not to.
For now the water in the pot is comfortable, but I'm thinking if I stay in this frame of mind for too long I'm going to end up emotionally dead. Yes, I know, bizarre post. That is what happens when you write hungry.
P.S. I should dedicate this to my deceased mother who loved to eat frog legs. Yuck.