“You could meet somebody.”
I scream internally. “Now that’s a scary thought,” I tell the mailman.
In one very brief moment I envision all the drama of a relationship. I know some people meet, fall in love, spend their lives with someone who cherishes them and cares for them and vice versa and at the end one of them must contend with life on their own for the first time. It’s bittersweet and romantic and beautiful and I admire it very much.
But it ain’t me, babe.
I don’t know if anything bears out my theory, but I think the home in which we grow up becomes our idea of a “normal” household and family and mine was very dramatic. I never liked the drama. My response was to get out of the way, but the creators of the drama were crafty, would often devise dramatic plots and then wait in ambush for me to return and pounce the moment I walked in the door.
I’ve observed myself as an adult, and I have seen that inside me is a “wait for the shoe to fall” mechanism. I can endure only so much smooth relations before I start feeling anxious that something will happen to disturb the peace. The longer things go well, the more uncomfortable I am. This is true with my friends, not just my significant others. I have managed to recognize it so I no longer create drama to relieve my anxiety and bring the shoe down.
Having seen this in myself I’ve seen it in others. I have a friend who will pick a fight to relieve his frustration with life in general. I now think it’s a pretty common stragedy.