Monday 14 February 2005

Pic of the day: What we think is one thing, what we do about it decides our lives. Life does not happen to us, we happen to it.

Not even no

For the last five years, I've written something Valentine-related on this day of the year. But then again, I guess those years I did think about it. This year, I barely noticed the day at all.

Now, this is Norway, and we don't have a long-standing and pervasive tradition for celebrating Lovers' Day. But on the Internet, which is still dominated by the USA, Valentine has a pretty strong presence. And the shops are of course doing their best to get yet another "buy something" day into the calendar. But except for a couple prominently displayed "quest items" in shops, I forgot the whole thing. It kinda slid off me, like water off a waterfowl.

On LiveJournal, I have a shorter and less regular journal where I keep in touch with mostly younger online friends. Several of these are still single, and most of them don't look kindly on Valentine's day. Some have gone so far as to portray it as some kind of mental torture for those who don't have a lover. There may be something to that. I haven't felt it like that myself, although it has been an opportunity for somber reflection. But now even that kinda slipped my mind. I guess that means I'm pretty far gone.

***

It is not like I am completely asexual. When I was young, I was convinced that I was more horny than other boys my age. In retrospect I realize that the opposite was true, and that is a really scary thought on behalf of those other boys. Even so, the fact that I could even think so says a bit. And I'm still not in the target group for Viagra, to put it that way. But of course, theoretically Valentine's day is not about sex as such, but romance. So how about romance?

Regular readers may remember that I have liked girls for as long as I can remember; even my parents commented on how obvious this was when I was little. If I believed in past lives and such, I might have thought it was something I brought with me into this world. If not, I sure learned it quickly. (My parents loved each other surely, but they were very careful to not express it in any way we kids could catch on.) Back when I was barely into puberty, I decided to learn things that most women did not know and acquire unusual skills, so that my wife and I would complete each other rather than overlap. Well, this wasn't how things turned out in the end, but I think it shows that I started out somewhere else than I am today!

But wherever you go, they say, there you are. And as we say here in Norway: As you make your bed, so you sleep in it. I actually have a double bed (old and worn now) but due to the way I have made my life, I sleep in it alone. And it is not just the sleeping. I have never been in a romantic relationship in my life. I've never dated, except a few mock dates with much younger female friends. I've almost never kissed, and the last time is around 20 years ago. Even when I really really liked girls (like SuperWoman for instance) it was always at heart friendship. I would have said "only friendship" except friendship can be a very intense thing in some few cases, and at least from my side it surely was. But in the end, no matter what, it wasn't romance. If it had been, I would surely have become jealous when they found a man in their life. But even I myself am amazed by how far off that feeling seems. Not that I complain. Jealousy sucks. It's one of the few causes of murder in our otherwise very peaceful little country.

***

There is a lot of long stories to be told about this all, I suppose, but they are all boring. But this is my life now. I am not stupid: Even though its leaves don't wither till October, the cherry tree cannot bloom in August. The quiet, the lack of struggle one way or another, the small shrug that was this year's February 14 ... that just means I'm living my life. I'm not evangelizing for celibacy or anything; I realize that being alone is not good for people in general. I am not even sure that a clone of me (which would, incidentally, be a good idea) would live like this at my age. More likely than average, sure, but there are just too many small choices we make through life as well. But then again, those choices define who we really are, don't they? People forget, in all the flowers and chocolates, that Valentine was a saint. And nobody ever becomes a saint by just drifting with the stream. Only by making choices and taking responsibility for them can we become more than deadwood. I won't say I always do that myself, then again I am not quite a saint (whatever you may have heard). But as far as I have come, here I am.