Over the last forty years, I’d had my share of joys, successes and loves, or rather, I thought I’d had loves. I’d also had doses of disillusionment that turned me skeptical about affairs of the heart. I was prepared to live alone.
I’d gone through two marriages. I was very young the first time. To this day, I can’t explain why I ever got married. The second time, I was more mature but the marriage was a greater source of boredom than of good memories. No children from either. Paternity has never appealed to me and I refused to give in to my first ex-wife’s whims in that regard. I was fortunate she was an intelligent woman who accepted my attitude. The first marriage failed because she began to insist on kids and I said no. We went our separate ways.
In the second marriage, neither of us wanted children. Our relationship ended day by day. It ground us down. I concluded that marriage is the graveyard of love. Tie the knot and it dies. I resigned myself to that.
I was convinced I’d never love again. I was absolutely certain that trap called love wouldn’t get me again. Instead, I’d have a few flings, a bit of fun here and there.
I bought an apartment to reflect my decision. It was big and spacious but just for me. No women’s closets and their thousands of shoes and handbags. No cozy nooks to lull me into dreams of cradles. Functionality, practicality, isolation. That was my house. I had a dog—all the company I needed.
My life was planned. I‘m a lawyer and a good one. My career was increasingly successful. My clients liked my work.
With my PhD studies completed, one of my pleasures was teaching. I’d call it a hobby. Though it can wear you out and it pays peanuts, it’s extremely enjoyable. Teaching is a stage for frustrated actors. I’m quite reserved. But when I’m acting, or rather, teaching, and when I’m practicing law, I’m someone else. My best traits come to the fore and I fulfill myself within the persona I take on in those roles.
When I reached the point where I said to myself that all I wanted was to go on this way, life showed me it had other ideas. We are not life’s drivers but rather its passengers.
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