For most of my life, I have avoided dating and relationships. In high school, this was a consequence of my inability to play the necessary games. (Although, I attributed it to hopeless romanticism, the justification of choice for most awkward teenagers.) In college, I learned to play the games — very well. However, I continued to not date. The adage, “why buy the cow if the milk is for free” applied. I enjoyed college.
Towards the end of college, I started to think differently. I wanted to form relationships of the non-causual variety. Many people I know date merely to be in a relationship. They are not necessarily wild about their partner, they just prefer not to be alone. This doesn’t interest me. In my case, I would date only if I found someone great. I think (very) highly of myself; I would have to think highly of the girl I would date as well. And that is just the beginning of the criteria. Physical attraction and emotional compatibility are not minor issues. Such girls are rare, but they have graced my path before.
As mentioned previously on my blog, I had a rare type of cancer for which there is still no cure. I was treated surgically to remove the macro-tumor, but microscopic remnants undoubtedly remain and, after enough doubling, it will reassert a claim on my health. Things are not likely to end well. Given this, I arrived at my dating conundrum. If I was to find a girl that I respected; a girl that I was attracted to; a girl whose company I enjoyed; a girl that I wanted to invest my time and emotions in…what happens when I get sick again? I initiated steps to nullify the Chordoma threat, and others subsequently (greatly) exceeded my efforts, but as of right now, I think the probability of tragedy exceeds that of happily ever after. This introduces my paradox, my Catch-22. The purpose of dating such a girl as the one sketched above is to allow myself to be swept along the currents, hoping to arrive at a place of deep love. (I wasn’t trying to be poetic; the preceding statement was as precise a summary on the progression of relationships as I could give.) If this point came — if I grew to love her deeply — I would want to protect her from harm and suffering. However, given Chordoma, her suffering would likely be a result of my sickness and death. Her suffering would be deeply emotional. Furthermore, as it is in a woman’s best interest to find a man in her youth — for obvious reasons — it would continue to weigh on her for a long time. Ergo, the best way to protect my as of yet unidentified and pursued love, is to never pursue her.
I realized this years ago but it is growing more difficult to maintain my restraint. For one, it’s easy to not pursue women romantically when you are young, dumb, and…in college. I might have justified my Dorian Gray phase as a consequence of this realization, but truthfully it wasn’t. I was enjoying myself in the way that a geek turned college man-whore would. Now, however, I am less interested in the simple pleasures (in isolation, at least.) Over the past year or so, I’ve started dating a few women, only to realize I was being selfish. I think I wanted the intimacy of a relationship, without the woman’s investment. This was stupid because it’s not a possibility.
To a small degree, I’m writing this hoping that someone will point out an obvious flaw. I’ve thought of some, but they are weak. I assume people smarter than myself have offered similar arguments; I’d like to read them. However, for the most part, I wrote it to solidify my resolve and understanding. That’s why I write most of my blog posts and accounts for my readership of about six people.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to do what I consider the rational course of action: try to fund a cure.
