In my last post I theorized that the young woman I've gone on at length about might not, after all this time, even know whether or not she even likes me. I think about that statement, and, if the truth lies there, she holds a pretty reasonable position on that score. I haven't exactly gone out of my way to talk to her or interact with her in any meaningful way. Why would she know whether or not she even liked me? She doesn't even know me.
For my part, I associate her with so many women in my past whom I considered to be "the one." Well, I'm spending this coronavirus time by myself, so much for all of those before I labeled as the one. So yeah, I imagine getting all up in these women's faces and trying to make them over into what ever characteristics I considered the one to have might tend to drive even the best of women away. Did I have the best that the female of the species has to offer to work with? I guess not, but then again, who does? I noticed a long time ago that the attractive young women who had serious boyfriends all seemed ideal somehow when I compared them to a lot of equally attractive women who might have found themselves single for a time.
What to do now? Yeah, I like this person a lot better now than I have in a long time. But, I think I'm just going to stick to my guns. At my age, I'm just grateful to discover a measure of inner peace about her and women in my past from the, I hope, valid insight I think I've gained about this woman over these past couple of days.
Maybe she's dated the men she's dated instead of me because she genuinely likes them better than she likes me. Again, not an unreasonable place for her to come from. For my part, I'm pretty happy following my buddha. I called this path the son of a bitch path the other day, but maybe I mischaracterized this path. Maybe not. At any rate, I shall dance with them that brung me, and stay on it. So, I wish her luck in her job, but the changes I made in relation to her place of employment- if she still works there- will probably remain.
Okay, here it is. Two doors. One door has ornate metal-work scenes that depict the paradise that supposedly lies within if I just have the courage to go for it, open it, and go through it. But, so often in my life, I've found this ornately ornamented door -think of
Ghiberti's doors in Florence- to have a solid brick wall on the other side when I opened it. The other door looks drab and unexciting, more like the door to a utility closet. One doesn't imagine it takes courage to choose that door over Ghiberti's door, but it really does, and I've found so much more behind that door in my life that I ever did behind Ghiberti's door. Maybe I won't find much of anything behind the utility closet door this time; yeah, maybe I should go try to see this young woman and talk to her and maybe even approach her for social reasons this one time; but...yeah.
For my part, I associate her with so many women in my past whom I considered to be "the one." Well, I'm spending this coronavirus time by myself, so much for all of those before I labeled as the one. So yeah, I imagine getting all up in these women's faces and trying to make them over into what ever characteristics I considered the one to have might tend to drive even the best of women away. Did I have the best that the female of the species has to offer to work with? I guess not, but then again, who does? I noticed a long time ago that the attractive young women who had serious boyfriends all seemed ideal somehow when I compared them to a lot of equally attractive women who might have found themselves single for a time.
What to do now? Yeah, I like this person a lot better now than I have in a long time. But, I think I'm just going to stick to my guns. At my age, I'm just grateful to discover a measure of inner peace about her and women in my past from the, I hope, valid insight I think I've gained about this woman over these past couple of days.
Maybe she's dated the men she's dated instead of me because she genuinely likes them better than she likes me. Again, not an unreasonable place for her to come from. For my part, I'm pretty happy following my buddha. I called this path the son of a bitch path the other day, but maybe I mischaracterized this path. Maybe not. At any rate, I shall dance with them that brung me, and stay on it. So, I wish her luck in her job, but the changes I made in relation to her place of employment- if she still works there- will probably remain.
Okay, here it is. Two doors. One door has ornate metal-work scenes that depict the paradise that supposedly lies within if I just have the courage to go for it, open it, and go through it. But, so often in my life, I've found this ornately ornamented door -think of
Ghiberti's doors in Florence- to have a solid brick wall on the other side when I opened it. The other door looks drab and unexciting, more like the door to a utility closet. One doesn't imagine it takes courage to choose that door over Ghiberti's door, but it really does, and I've found so much more behind that door in my life that I ever did behind Ghiberti's door. Maybe I won't find much of anything behind the utility closet door this time; yeah, maybe I should go try to see this young woman and talk to her and maybe even approach her for social reasons this one time; but...yeah.
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