Accustomed to the Emptiness

Dearest Rachel –

To a certain extent, I think that I’m living the life I expected to when I graduated from college with no one to my name but myself. Much as some folks used to denigrate the university experience as an opportunity for certain females to obtain their “Mrs.” degree (is that still a thing these days? I get the impression that female students are taught to oppose the patriarchy these days, so such an aim is decidedly outré for this generation), so too was I hoping to reinvent myself in order to find a relationship I could develop into something permanent – only, I would try not to be like certain of my peers, who wore desperation like a bad cologne. The problem is that, when you’ve essentially given up on actually attracting anyone, you don’t even try anymore – and while that brings those you want around you, it’s because they see you as ‘safe’; someone who won’t try anything on or around them. And since you want to continue to earn that trust, you do just that. As a result, you wind up with the same result as the desperate guys, with maybe a little more respect for yourself and from the girls, but look… zero is zero, no matter how you try to count it.

So when I walked away with my degree and CPA certification, I figured that, while I was set professionally, my personal life was going to be an empty one. Sure, I had my family around me to support me – even to a literal extent, as my folks let me stay with them immediately upon returning, and then my grandmother insisted I take over her place when she moved to a nearby care facility – but I was on my own, and I expected that, having exhausted my last chance at finding love, that would be the status quo ad infinitum. My letter to you was a last-ditch Hail Mary that I fully expected to go the same way most desperation passes do; that it did not was an eternal surprise, even though I did try a similar approach not too long ago… with much more expected results.

The problem is that what I did with and for you actually worked, and I thought it would work again. One doesn’t always recognize lightning in a bottle when one has it; sometimes, especially after a long time of having it in one’s possession, one assumes that it’s the way things generally work, only to be thwarted upon attempting to replicate the results.

***

This may seem unrelated, but I think I mentioned to you about how, when Jan was helping me clean out the bedroom, I was reluctant to move my stuff into what used to be ‘your’ dresser – despite the fact that mine was starting to fall apart from the inside – and ‘your’ closet. At the time, I still had hope that I might find Megumi, and she would need those spaces; for me to move into them was to tacitly acknowledge that she wasn’t going to be coming any time soon, and I might as well make myself comfortable in the larger empty spaces left behind by your absence.

Eventually, I gave in and began filling what used to be your spaces with my stuff, and sure enough; Parkinson’s Law has kicked in, and now, I can’t imagine how I’d manage to compress what I have such that your successor would have sufficient space for her clothes at this point. We’d probably have to get ourselves a wardrobe – one that, unfortunately, wouldn’t lead to Narnia, but at least would manage to store what we both had such that we wouldn’t have to rely on a “floor-drobe” like the two of us used to.

As much as it feels like a healthy step to be able to do this, though, it also seems like I’m getting to the point where I’m accustomed to the emptiness you’ve left behind. For all that I keep telling myself that I want a ‘Megumi’ back in my life, am I at the point where I would have difficulty accommodating her?

And not just because my clothes fill up the space yours used to occupy. This applies to my schedule, too. Which I’m sure you’d find weird, as it’s no more full than it was back in the day when we were together and I had a job.

But this is the day and age of instant communication, when texts can arrive at any moment, and those sending them tend to want an answer right away. There are so many times when something pops up – even from someone I’ve reached out to from one dating app or another, so it’s a contact I want to have, in theory – where I’m in the middle of something else (because one can’t just be sitting around by the phone all one’s life, and I still have both responsibilities as well as things I just like to do now and again), and I find myself only grudgingly able to acknowledge them. Too often, the first thing that comes to my mind is something like, “Can’t they let me just get back to what I was doing?”

Even as I’m writing that thought down – and confirming that it crosses my mind on occasion when I get a text – it sounds incredibly self-absorbed on my part. Yes, I might want this person to reach out to me, but only on my terms, and on my schedule which, given all the things I’ve stuffed into it (no matter how trivial) leaves them with a pretty narrow window of opportunity. At this rate, Megumi could waltz into my life, and I would just brush her off because I’d rather be watching YouTube at the moment. Then again, my experience thus far has been that nearly every last one of these individuals (I hesitate to call them ‘women,’ as I’ve not been able to meet and confirm this about them) hasn’t panned out, so you can hardly blame me for thinking I’m about to waste my time with another one.

But I don’t know what to think of the fact that I’ve gotten so accustomed to the emptiness of my life and home that I’d just as soon ignore these people and continue with my solitary pursuits. To that end, I might ask for more than your eye on me, honey – perhaps I could use a nudge in a certain direction, if you could. Either way, wish me luck, though, as I’m sure I’ll need it.