Bandy: to discuss lightly or banteringly. Lonely versus Alone.

I used to fall in love daily. Few know this. Fewer would take this seriously or even consider it a fact. Despite my callous, often abrasive approach to life and it's situations; I long for an emotionally spiritual soul connection with another human being. That is my sole desire. For my soul to meet it's mirror and fall in love with it's reflection. That desire has never been stronger then it has the last few months. In so much that I have begun to feel lonely in the most peculiar situations and places. So now, I "crave" am almost dying to feel a sense of relief in aloneness.
A long time friend and I once discussed the idea of loneliness versus aloneness. My 27 year friend, stated they were synonymous, there was no difference. That both were a form of isolation. While, I mostly agreed, I argued that aloneness was a choice, whereas, loneliness was not. She believed that they both indicated a craving, a desire to "be with". And that persons who "justified" aloneness as a blissful or growth state where those persons who denied their longing for companionship or had just been alone for so long that they were in fact numb.
Why is this on my mind? I went to Dallas this past weekend. It highlights the happiest, yet arguably some of the most painful times of my adult life. What I remember most in my pain, the destruction and later demise of a long-term relationship, is the growth that occurred on the other side. I developed a loving relationship with myself, one where I was emotionally, physically and spiritually sound. At that time, my friend and I talked frequently and she warned me that while I believed I was happy, I was practicing a form of avoidance. That I was becoming numb, not wanting to deal with the disappointment of the "relationship thang". I explained to her that she was wrong, dead wrong. Everyday, I fell in love with the "spirit of the woman I was becoming" as well as the "essence of my future partner".
Each time I visit Dallas, I am reminded of that space. That beautiful, comforting space, void of disappointment. I experience mixed emotions everytime I either drive or ride the 200 plus miles down IH 35 South. I become enraged with my X whom I made the ill-fated choice to move to Austin "with". I mourn the loss of a beautiful 700 square foot apartment with hardwood floors, huge windows with a relatively cool breeze, a view of REAL trees with squirrels and birds. Late evening and night time bike rides downtown on the cobblestone along the light rail lines or at White Rock Lake. Eating vegetarian food at Cafe Brazil. Playing stoopid azz games a Starbuck's all night with my friend Kirk. Going to Oaklawn with Derral, eating at Hunky's, and hanging out at the park on Sundays. I miss the weekly dates I had with myself breakfast on Friday's at Benavides, summer series Thursday night concerts, and Van Gogh to Go picnics during the Shakespeare festival.
Each time, it takes me days to recover. With each click of a lock or opening of a garage door, the resentment of surburban living and values that have seemingly been forced upon me thru mortgages and responsibility strangles my youth, suffocating me. This is when Wednesday night poetry is not enough. When talking on the phone to real friends is not enough. When crying to cleanse your soul and mourn your sense of loss, does nothing more then dampen sheets and pillow tops. When darkness seeps into your lungs, making it difficult for you to just BREATHE. When night sweats become a sea of emotions you can drown in. This is when loneliness sets in.
After those visits, I believe I go home to 1600 plus square feet of possessions where inside nothing lives or grows, including me. There is a plush lawn, giving you the impression that there is "real" life inside, but there's none. I have no plants, pets, and I go there only to bathe and sleep. I will see my "home" as such until I am able to bathe and sleep away the sweetness of a past the resonates in my mind. Aferward, it will once again represent hope and promise. I will be fortunate that I have a place to call home. A place where I have entertained and laughed with poets and friends. Proof that the American dream, no matter how twisted is possible.
Maybe I romanticize Dallas as much as I romanticize the idea of penguin love, mangos and brown eyes. Something I once had, and is probably now nothing more then a sweet memory. Something I need to let go of. Perhaps holding on makes it difficult for me to be accepting of today.
Today, I am not letting go of the idea that I can, once again find solace in aloneness and not feel lonely (she made a good argument, but didn't really convince me). But I will abandon the idea of penguin love et al. And learn to accept that maybe the only loving relationship I can experience in it's totality is one based on trust, honesty and respect with self.