mr. inverse paradox

I occasionally go through periods of time (often associated with my hormones, I'm sorry to say) when I get in a bit of a funk over my love life, or lack thereof. It doesn't help that there have been a score of hookups/weddings/babies/breakups/breakdowns (not necessarily in that order) in my social sphere of late, whilst I remain merrily unattached/single/lonely/free. I mostly -- no, 96% of the time -- don't care; I am content with who I am, and revel in the surety of my self-knowledge and freedom to change my life as needed. Yet occasionally, I wonder if I'm not missing out on something...why do so many people want and need some significant other in their life? Have I been so warped by my previous circumstances (and yes I suppose you ought to read between the lines of my previous post; I have before admitted to a inclination towards the"M" word so I shouldn't be loath to admit it in this space) that I'm not fit for that sort of existence with another decent human soul -- just the feline?

No, no, Sesame Street and the Days of Our Lives have ingrained in me, in all of us, that there's someone for everyone somewhere out there someday. Right? I have living proof of that upstairs in my early-morning boinking neighbors, the female (I think) half of which I met last week. Eew. Crud, if they managed to bump into each other successfully in this whole wide world (and with great regularity since) then sure as hell there's some one somewhere out there someday waiting for me. Unfortunately, it's just going to have to be someone who will both worship me and be indifferent to me, someone who can see the unending potential for humor in life but be a bit of a sadist. Someone who's my inverse paradox, if you're into yin/yang (not the Twins).

I've apparently met my male equivalent, but he's now engaged to my dear friend Hannah. I wouldn't want my male equivalent (even thought he's quite a nice and lovely guy) anyway. But what does that say about me? (or Hannah? :0) Yet I will assert to my lonely last day on earth that it is wrong and wrong again to be with someone just to be with someone. That's why I'm fine, 96% of the time. All I have to do is get through these next couple of days of hormone-laden angst. Time for the whiskey. Time for Billie Holliday. I will never, ever find someone. Time for a long walk on the foggy Embarcadero. Time to buy...my scooter?