I’m half-surprised yesterday’s post didn’t get any commenting naysayers.
After all, I was busy slipping love and expectation into the same sentence.
The late twentieth (and early twenty-first) century have been characterised by the cult of the individual, no? Our free will and independence supreme. We are all free to make our own choices in glorious autonomy, yes?
Consider this statement.
Fine. You can do what you like.
Does that fill you with a warm glow? Your true self respected and given free reign? Or does it feel like you have been mashed over the head with a sock full of wet sand? The last time anyone said that to me, it was the last thing I ever heard her say.
OK, the “fine” doesn’t help matters, I know. Someone I knew once observed that it is actually an acronym for Fucked-Up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. Which made me laugh. She is the ex who I still miss slightly, on occasion.
The reality is perhaps that both and neither are true and we are all just flailing along in the mud of No-Man’s Land. Well, I’m OK with that.
Earlier this year a few people asked me how I was getting on with the whole resolutely-single thing. My response was this. The best thing about being single is that you can do as you please; but the worst thing about it is…that you can do as you please.