Party of One

My Valentine’s Day has come and gone with barely a whimper. The director of my department handed out cookies with “Love” written on them. A few friends sent perfunctory email greetings. Other than that, this was another quiet day, same as in year’s past.

Regardless of your relationship status, this is a day of reflection. People in relationships assess where they have been, where they plan to go and what each person means to the other. Single people, whether happy or unhappy in that state, can meditate on the positive aspects of being by themselves, or dwell on the negatives associated with being loveless on a day set aside for lovers.

I’ve grown more philosophical about the whole issue of being alone. As I’ve written previously in this space, the six and a half years I’ve lived in New York have been spent in relative isolation, with many acquaintances, few real friends, no love interests to speak of. There are no signs of that changing any time soon.

This has allowed me time to examine my situation. Certain hard truths have been faced that shed light on why I am a party of one. While it would be easy to fault other people for not loving me the way I wanted, as the saying goes, “When you point one finger, there are four pointing back at you.” I have to take responsibility for my own condition.

To start, I don’t need another person in my life. I want one. There’s a difference. Perhaps in the traditional heterosexual relationship model, some women marry more for financial security than love, but such models don’t easily translate to same sex relations, where both people are more apt to be self-sufficient.

I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I want someone–as a friend, life companion, shoulder to lean on, confidant, sex partner, vacation buddy, etc.—so my standards are a bit higher. Men who don’t bring the right energy, intellectual stimulation, variety of interests, values and life goals, get passed over not because they aren’t kind and decent, but because they don’t adequately complement my life.

I also recognize that I haven’t always been ready for a meaningful relationship. Passed failed ones will do that to you. With trust issues, self-esteem problems, and feelings of rejection and abandonment, even when I met nice guys, I wasn’t open and prepared to accept them. I needed reassurance of their interest in me, and absent that, had my worst fears reaffirmed. Until I realized that one person’s disinterest didn’t mean I was unlovable, I routinely pushed people away.

Finally, I have known my whole life that I am different from other people. Oh, not just the sexual orientation part, but in so many other ways. Despite living in NYC, I am really a small town guy at heart. I don’t need a fast pace, but rather a steady one. My tastes and interests are eclectic, from football to modern dance, 1940’s film noir to a fascination with trains. I loath hip hop and rap, preferring traditional jazz, and have no interest in drag balls, bars or clubs. I’d much rather go deep sea fishing or sky diving. I don’t fit into the same boxes other Black gay men do, making it very hard to wind up in spaces where I meet people with things in common.

But I’m ok with this because it is who I am. Old dogs can learn new tricks but not easily and not without a damn good reason. Until one comes along, I am content to go it alone.