For Matters of the Heart, Consult Batman

Earlier this year, just before the flowers bloomed and birds chirped, while the weather was still just cold and stinging enough to be symbolic, my romantic relationship withered and croaked ('This is how you're starting your blog? Ummm, yup). That... was not a fun day. In fact, it hasn't been a fun six months. But, not to worry, I'm not here today to vent my pent up frustrations or talk about how much the whole situation sucked; that would, in my estimation, make for an almost unfathomably lame and unentertaining read. No no, instead, it's just that over the past half calendar year I've unwittingly become more than just passingly familiar with a peculiarly haunting conundrum: how best to move forward/objectively accept the notion that there really are "other fish in the sea" at a time when I couldn't help but view everything with bitterly subjective eyes, and it's lead to some interesting thoughts. To give you a better idea, during those first few post-relationship months of March and April, I spent such a great deal of quality Deej-time with this very problem that if it somehow were able to personify itself and become a woman, we would have been having regular sex, she'd be calling me twice a day, and we probably would have had the "So what do you think about anal?" conversation... Kidding. No I'm not. But you get the idea. This concern was incessant; it was always with me. It went to bed with me, it stared back at me in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I could taste it in my morning coffee, it sent me a bunch of "lil' green patch" plants on facebook, the whole bit. It just wouldn't leave, and so I did not know what to do because I could not seem to formulate any consistently workable and soothing answers.

Naturally, at numerous points along the way, I thought maybe I'd find these answers - or at least the seeds of them - in the counsel of family and friends. And in bizarre way, I did, but not so much in what their messages were but more in how they said them, or their wording ('Leave it to you to discern deep meaning from diction.' But of course, would you expect anything less from me?). To illustrate, when I would confide in people, I would - with remarkable frequency - get responses that sounded something like this: "You shouldn't be like this. You're 26. You're young. You should be happy. You should be having fun." Of course, these serious conversations would typically be lengthy and cluttered with confusing and sad detail, but there's no need to share all that. What's important/relevant here are the main ideas/summaries, which I just paraphrased. And they are good messages. They're valid. They're probably correct.....But they fuckin' bothered me. The wording bothered me. Particularly, that one redundant phrase - "should be"- ate at me because it sets a ridiculous/idealistic benchmark. If everything was "as it should be," then there would be zero problems, and when it comes to dating/relationships/finding someone to care about, stumbling upon an absolute eutopia just isn't in the fucking cards. It's unrealistic. It's impossible. It doesn't work that way. And if you disagree with me and think that your relationship is seriously "perfect," then you're either high or you're Angelina Jolie...


And so it was, for a while, the messages and bits of advice I received from others, while genuinely appreciated as I was feeling atypically vulnerable, ultimately pissed me off moreso than they aided me. Shit, I get mad enough as it is whenever I can't figure out a friggin' sudoku puzzle, so when all this was happening and I felt I was drifting farther and farther away from a comfortable solution to legitimately difficult problem instead of progressing toward one, my frustration became quite amplified - internally, at least. Ironically, this filled my mind to such an extent that I could have sworn my temples continually and visibly pounded outward so to make extra physical space in my head for all of the bullshit minutae floating around in there. But that's when it happened. Right as I was almost at the psychological breaking point, I had something that's not nearly dramatic enough to be considered an epiphany, but was still a pretty helpful realization nonetheless. I don't know the word for it, so I'll make one up by employing one of my favorite rules of the Spanish language: epiphanita. Yes, a tiny epiphany, an epiphanita ('Wow, you're such a homosexualita.' Yeah, well, what can ya do...). And the fact that it happened at this point I dont' feel is very shocking, for I'd be willing to bet that, just as people have been known to sometimes summon extraordinary amounts of strength in moments of extraordinary peril, your mind forces itself to operate on a higher plane of reason right when it seems you're about to lose it completely. In other words, desperation, while certainly unenviable, is a powerful condition.


But I digress. What I realized was, of course, something almost ridiculously simple, but that's also not surprising considering my annoying tendency to immediately overcomplicate things. Specifically, it dawned on me that instead of ignoring the idea of an idealistic new relationship since its unattainable, I should embrace the very unattainability of it. In other words, maybe the best way to deal with demons is to have them on display, to wear them externally, etc. instead of trying to mask them in the blind hope that they'll go away when I find something ideal/perfect, because there's no way that could ever happen. I mean, the possibility of going down this unfortunate road (some people call it "heart break") is a terrifying one, but I learned that often times, the best (and often only) way of overcoming fears is to confront them, to immerse yourself in them, to almost wear them ('I smell a nerdy allusion coming...' That's right you do!...) And it is in THIS concept that we can learn a little sumptin' sumptin' from none other than Batman! That's right, the dark knight himself employed this very principle in a way. He overcame his fear of bats by surrounding himself with them. He became simultaneously fear-less and fear-some by simply dealing with his shit head-on, despite how agonizing the prospect initially seemed.


This isn't to say that Bruce Wayne and I are exactly similar here; he has the additional motive of wanting to learn how to strike fear into the hearts/souls of Gotham evildoers, whereas I just want to make sure that I have nothing to hide, and that there's nothing I can't handle, especially considering that statistically speaking, I probably will have to suffer heart break again at some point... And also, Batman is awesome, and so any real-life applications his character represents are certainly worth my time to consider. Maybe I should give myself a tangible reminder of this whole idea by wearing a big black cape everywhere I go from now on. That would be practical, I'd be making a fashion statement, and in case I get drunk and fall asleep outside, I'll always have a blanket. It makes sense, right? No? Okay fine...


It's ironic too, isn't it? - that I remind myself to embrace the reality of everything I had been trying to ignore/rid myself of by thinking of a sort-of escapist, comic book superhero ('Wait, you do know that..." Yes, I know, Batman's not REALLY a superhero because he has no super powers. Shut up)? But whatever, it seems to be working for me. Hell, maybe that irony is actually why it's working for me; I know that escapism/ignorance, while enticing, is not the answer, but perhaps plucking one of escapist fiction's foremost icons and for use in representing a more real, mature answer allowed me to more comfortably and calmly accept what I had to do. Does that makes sense? I honestly don't even know; I'm just firing away very stream-of-consciousness style right now...

Don't get me wrong, I don't outwardly publicize all that's bothering me all the time, especially when it comes to new women in my life (and there IS one of those, as a matter of fact), because that would be psychotic, and it would have caused her to run for the hills. Plus, acting psychotic is a woman's job, right? Right ('Typical..' Yes, but true!). But still, could you imagine a first date like that - "So, I thought we could try so-and-so restaurant. By the way I got my heart broken earlier and I'm terrified and I hope that never happens down the road with me and you, but I felt like I should mention it right now at the start..." Yikes. That's not what I mean by wearing my problems outwardly. I just mean that I won't hide it. I will talk about it if it comes up. I will not bottle it up or shy away from it. I'll prepare myself for its recurrence if I ever get to that stage of a relationship again. Because there is no such thing as eutopia. Everyone has a past. Everyone has baggage, even guys. And sometimes, ours can weigh just as much your run-of-the-mill crazy and irrational woman's, and any guy who denies that I say is a damn coward. In situations like these, you can either be tough and durable like Batman, or dishonest, deceitful, cowardly, indecisive, etc. like, ummmmm, Brett Favre. Ha! And personally, I'd rather be Batman with his square jaw than Brett Favre with his stupid grey beard, wouldn't you?...


In summation, banking on the ideal is a fool's errand, so I say be proud of your scars. Showcase them. Talk about them if questioned/warranted, even if it feels awkward. It's better to be honest. You'll feel better/purged in the long run, I can almost guarantee that. I'm glad I learned that. I'm a better person for admitting that it still hurts. It doesn't matter that it's been half a year. If it still hurts, it still hurts. That's the reality. Its better that I admit it, and its better that people can know if they want. It's weird how it all works out that way. It's weird how what would typically be touchy issues/conversational no-no's aren't really that bad once you let them out of your mouth. It's comforting, and it goes a long way towards not only moving on yourself, but letting someone else in as well as it makes it easier for he/she to really "get to know you," as they say. If I'm not doing a good enough job being clear here, allow me to put it to ya this way: I still miss Alexis every single day, and I still really wish that everything worked out differently. Yet, all that being said, I can't really think of anything I want to do right now more than finish this sentence so I can go be with Jenn....And on that note...



Thanks for droppin' in. 'Til next time playaz,



DJ