Over the weekend, I got to hang out with some CFs in Atlanta, all single, or kind of single, and primarily straight. Each of us found ourselves in varied states of relational ambivalence: loving or liking someone who doesn’t quite love (or like) you back, at least not in the way you deserve; fearful of trying to date again after years of disappointment and failed expectations; and recovering from heart break or at least deeply hurt feelings. Yet, we are all also unapologetically pragmatic about getting our needs met even when conditions prove non-ideal. As a pragmatist, I had to ask, “is it feminist to remain in a situation where you aren’t getting what you need or want, but you are at least getting something?” What I heard was a collective groan, as we all thought it through. And then after that, a painful, collective, and resolved sigh.
No, probably not. But it is what it is...
And IT is the condition in which we find ourselves. Perpetually alone. Needing love, needing companionship, needing sex. But willing to settle for less than, if only for a moment, even as the sermons, feminist and otherwise, play in the background. Is love enough? In the lonely moments of an otherwise full life, love definitely seems like the solution, like the stitching that turns a beautiful piece of fabric into the form-fitting number that accentuates the best parts of yourself. For all of us who don’t have the love that we so desperately want, it most definitely feels like enough.
But is it really?
i know it's not enough for me.
sometimes, the "close, but no cigar" moments leave me just as despondent, heartbroken, and sore as a ended relationship would. still, like crunktastic, i find myself asking, "what would i have otherwise?"
sometimes i feel brave, loving how i can, where i can. but when i get frustrated, the part of me that needs one true, real love feels like i'm selling out.
i'm still trying to reconcile those selves...balance the needs with the wants, the reality with my dreams.
the only thing i'm sure of is that it has to be a sin that we cannot love better than this. that freedom, intelligence, and depth seem to make you a lonelier woman, rather than a cherished, genuinely sought after one.
thus sayeth my moment of vulnerability.
*re-armors and picks up sword*
i'm still a soldier.