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Up Against A Wall

Up Against A Wall

“I don’t like how you’ve got your bed pressed against the wall,” said a friend who came over for Shabbat lunch and checked out my new-ish apartment.

At first I thought she was referring to my decorating skills, or sad to say, lack thereof. Or maybe she was something of a feng shui aficionado and pressing the bed against the wall meant bad chi or something.

But no, she was referring to my love life.

“It just means you’ve given up. That you’ve resigned yourself to being single.”

It took me a second but then I got it. The way the bed is set up now, only one person has a “side.” You know how in the movies there is always a “his” and “her” side of the bed? With two little tables resting against each side?

So if my life were a movie then there could only be one side table, which would mean that only one sad and lonely person and her funny little dog could sleep there. Because where would the “his” put his stuff? And how would he get into bed, with a wall blocking his way?

Never mind that perhaps I have had some male guests in my bed, and I just crawled over them and slept by the wall – I like the comfort of a wall – still, they didn’t last long. Maybe because they had no side of their own so they didn’t feel welcome?

The whole thing made me think – not so much about side tables since I don’t even have one, forget about two– but about whether I have been holding out this long for something that does not exist. Something even childish and naïve.

I am referring, of course, to falling in mega-like with someone. Because maybe this kind of chemical attraction does us a disservice as perhaps it brings us farther away from the person who would make the best life partner.

In other words: Perhaps chemistry and partnership are mutually exclusive.

Which leads me back to the underlying question, which is, maybe my “gut” is leading me astray. Maybe what I need to do is give the men who want partnership a chance, even if said man is not interesting or attractive to me.

All I’m saying is this being alone thing is becoming more than a habit. It has become a way of life. And unless I want to be the perpetual Old Maid, I am wondering whether I should start rethinking my options.

And even if my options aren’t ideal, I need to ask myself, what is the alternative? I know this sounds like a lesson in scarcity and a good friend always advises me to look at the universe in terms of abundance – you can almost see her, draped in scarves now can’t you?

But what I’m saying is maybe some of these guys who interest me not one iota are gems and I don’t even know it because I don’t give them the time of day. I mean, maybe they would continue to not be appealing to me and that would be the end of that. But maybe, just maybe, one of these frogs would become my prince?

The problem is, I’m going to have to kiss one of them to find out.

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