Like I have any clue.
I can make a list of things I don’t want, with all the inherent contradictions. I don’t want to take care of a full grown adult. I don’t want to die alone. (Even though we all die alone, really, but I like the idea of someone holding my hand as I expire. There won’t be anyone, probably, and even if I found the perfect partner, there’s no guarantee that they will outlive me, or be in any state to do any hand holding.) I don’t want to be attached to someone. Even though I’m attached to people left and right and hate spending an evening not chatting with someone by WhatsApp or Skype or whatever, but I don’t want to live with someone. I don’t want someone controlling me. I don’t want to have to give more than I get. I don’t want to do someone else’s dishes, or laundry, or take care of unpleasant crap simply because they don’t want to.
And what do I want? I can answer partly at least. Sex. The intimacy that comes with sex. The right to keep myself to myself. I want to chose what I do, when I do it and with whom. I want to climb, travel, meet people.
My ex-cop keeps telling me not to “fall in love”, but I think I am in love with him and this is what it gives me: the pleasure to see him, the pleasure to talk to him, no need to have him in my daily life, no need to move in with him, or cook for him or iron his shirts, just the pleasure of his company when we can find the time. The only thing I do differently, with his insistence that I shouldn’t fall in love, is that I do chat with other men, and I’ve invited one to come visit this weekend. I’d like to sleep with him, just to keep me from getting too attached.
And it’s too soon anyway after my separation for me to settle down with one person. I need time to remake myself after 19 years with my husband. But it’s easier than I thought it would be. I was so alone in our relationship that it’s much easier to really be alone. With the fascination of someday learning what I really want.