I've been wanting to muse about love, and the lovely youngish man.
But I'm tired and instead I find myself simply marvelling at what it is - I mean, what's the process? - that the human heart goes through to recover from injury and fully engage once again. It's incredible, this organ of ours. Really, I'm speechless with admiration at the human facility to suffer, recover and carry on.
And when I have a look, I see that my own recovery is far more complete than I thought it was. I guess the Summer had something to do with it: falling into a very black place, seeking the advice and solace of friends, and eventually, slowly, dragging myself out from there.
My despair was fuelled two-fold, I remember: it was sparked by my financial situation growing more and more desperate, and then the bonfire was well and truly lit by the Bim meeting his new love. It absolutely wasn't that I wanted to be with him in stead of her; it was, I later understood, that his meeting Mary left me having to face being, and feeling, completely alone.
It took longer to admit to myself that I was not only alone, but very lonely. I struggle with writing this even today. I'm not sure why I find it such a difficult thing to admit to. I suppose it's because I want to believe that I can be all things to myself, but I found myself alone in the car recently speaking my loneliness out loud for the first time, and I knew then with a heavy heart that sooner or later I would have to look for the remedy.
But then the remedy came towards me on Friday night with an open heart and huge smile and it didn't seem such a scary thing after all, re-connecting with the company of men. And yes it would be wonderful to feel that connection again - but if that doesn't happen the gift of the encounter is immense.
Suddenly, whole worlds out there have come into focus again, and I may not have to experience them alone.