There is a saying that there is no life without love. The trusting innocence of childhood is all to quickly betrayed in adulthood by the casual nature of betrayals wrought from sowing those proverbial ‘wild oats’. Early loves of adolescence many times are buried in the haste to sample life. Too many times life’s opportunities are passed by with the confidence that they can be repeated at will at any time ad infinitum. Sadly one finds sometime later on that this is anything but true. As one approaches middle age the playing field of potential connections narrows dramatically and comes with long lists of ensuing conditions and demands that diminish the last hope for the spontaneity of youth. One day one comes to the conclusion that beyond a sparse friendship here or there, they are better off as they have always been, alone. The last affair, much like the first one, sets the tone for the subsequent experience of the remainder of earthly existence.
There is nothing so sad and pathetic than someone who is old trying to re-enact their earlier more youthful years bereft of the fact of their present tense lack of an ability to perform in that manner. One quickly becomes a ‘fifth wheel’ in a party of two, where your object of affection constantly defers to their own set of long lost phantoms that you perform the task of stand-in for. Women are particularly brutal in this, as of the two sex’s they retain the official status of the one who is to be ‘taken care of’. Feminism not having quite conquered this bastion in the PC illusion of gender equality. Not that brutality is not a mutual aspect from both sides of the fence, but men to oft wage a more silent war against self-deception than do women. At a certain point in both cases, when the novelty of exploring a desirable trait in another has been worn thin by the discovery of all so many human less attractive ones, the time for parting comes. Some plant emotional land mines to easily beg off of assuming the role of ‘bad guy’ when the other party cannot hope to accede to some impossible demand or expectation. Sometimes the anger is demonstrably explosive but most times in later years the silence associated with the break is more characteristic of a return to respective individual states of solitude that were enjoyed before. The sense of youthful tragedy wholly absent except as it refers to one from decades past when reality finally awakened one to the fact that something good only comes along but once.