Cara Ester, I’m 34 years old and have a catalog of love failures behind me, some announced, some bolts from the blue (or from the cloudy sky): in any case, always new, always different.
Very short relationships, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to share an entire year with a man: not that I want to put it in numbers, but when the collection increases the statistic comes naturally, it’s physiological.
In any case, I asked myself a thousand questions, and I asked my analyst a thousand and one, but this is not the point I want to get to.
The point is that I met a man: he is much older than me, handsome, intelligent, charming and (it seemed to me) decisive, resolved, firm.
He surrounds me, starts asking about me to people he knows who know me, adds me on social media (heck there) and starts texting me, then asking for my number, then suggesting we meet up.
I accept, obviously, flattered by this attention and also amused.
Furthermore, the occasion has characteristics that make it particularly romantic, and the friccicorino can be heard a mile away.
A first dinner is followed by a more informal outing, and countless coffees: I notice great (and beautiful) urgency in the desire to see each other, so much so that we cannot wait until the next (more or less scheduled) outing, and instead we take advantage of every slightest opportunity to see each other even just for a coffee.
At a certain point, what needs to happen happens, and I’m at three thousand. Will I be able to enjoy this moment? Can it last? No, is the answer.
I’m starting to feel (damn my strong sensitivity, I got it this time too), a pull on the brakes.
He calls me for another appointment, and after a few hours it turns out (yeah): he doesn’t have the strength and energy to commit to me. He doesn’t have an easy family situation, I know this, but he seemed to me to be doing very well, even with that. I try to save him the “it’s not you, it’s me” but also the “I just got out of an affair”: we are both intelligent enough to understand that these are ridiculous excuses, and never true.
But he braked, and I didn’t want him to brake, but there’s not much I can do about it except take note of it. Yet it seemed to me that he wanted it too. Do you still want it? Will he want it? I hadn’t asked him for any immediate commitment, what was he afraid of?
A man (now I write it lowercase) who seemed to me to have the world in his hands and who instead is confused, like many, too many. And in the confusion, he takes a step back. He doesn’t want to get hurt, to hurt me: there are many justifications, but what do I do with them?
I’m not confused, I know what I want: and I thought that little friccicorino was the prelude to it.
Should I hope he changes his mind? Or to the confused enemy fleeing golden bridges?
You will tell me, THE SECOND YOU SAID. But what a bad ending, yet another.
THE.
Ester Viola’s response
Dear L.,
The love subject meets a pleasant person, it lasts very little, the love subject becomes fixated.
It’s really an illness that you get sometimes, because you really want to get it, and there’s no remedy, no possible caution, if it’s established that in those fifteen days you have to fall in love, it will happen. As often happens, pleasant/polite/sensitive/intelligent people/with the same interests/a nice pair of kind eyes and a smile that opens locks. The world is full of lucky encounters, and therefore casual and careless falling in love is very easy. These are not such rare coincidences.
To complicate the matter even more, these chance encounters with people-who-can-always-happen have an abrupt interruption that stops them at the half-relationship stage. Unexplained disappearances are the final blow – that’s it. If then from there they demonstrate that they ignore you and don’t want you, that they don’t have the strength, that the situation is difficult, there’s the ex, the almost ex, the maybe ex, a husband, a wife, a dog, children, bad moods and they gently make you understand that it’s lasted long enough and you won’t see each other again, there’s the corner where all the psychology in the world will hit and shatter: you won’t be able not to fall in love.
The objection would also be too easy: but he is a stranger! But you’ve known him for two minutes! But you didn’t even like it that much at first! – it’s all useless, it’s too late, the toy now walks on its own, one of those children’s cars with wheels that recharge themselves.
We must desublimate, L. Become practical spirits, or our sixteen years will rule for life. Here is the review, which is repeated every now and then, of the loves available in the shop. Start considering your love equal to a thousand loves, and you can consider half the work done.
1) Love alongside: married, perhaps with children
When love finds a place in an objective structure (marriage and family) it is to make it almost impossible for the participants to escape. Very rare cases in which the male
abandons the tribe for third party feelings. I speak of male because in this context patriarchal leprosy cannot be eradicated: it is almost always the husband’s prerogative to take his children away from the hunchback and have a fuitina with a younger/more beautiful/lighter companion.
In short, it’s better to resign yourself: lovers are mostly made for life. You will be adored and often distant. Which isn’t a bad compromise. If you don’t have the kind of bourgeois character that gets sad when you only find yourself on Saturdays, at Christmas and on August 15th, it’s not a despicable solution.
2) Long distance love
We already said. You liked the people at a distance so much because you didn’t see them much.
Ask anyone who took two, three, ten years. Everyone mourns the wasted years, no one mourns the great love. It will mean something. For every “What would it have been like?” in the area of feelings, the answer is always “No big deal”.
3) Love with ailments to cure
It’s not work for a girl’s shoulders, you need a doctor.
4) Complex love
We are incompatible but perfect, everyone who knows us says that we will end up together. And they are wrong.
5) Love with long goodbyes
Then we get back together, we always know that it’s not really the last time.
I know people who complain Bridget Jones-style and are in their fifties.
6) Love only written
It’s illness.
7) Love through elective affinities.
What does having the same libraries, checking the same sites on Google in the morning, watching TV series with great harmony mean? Not very much.
So what do those with loves that work do? And who knows, L., no one with even a little brain has ever dreamed of having an answer.
