I am having an insatiable craving for a companion. I am in New York with many friends to see and much work to do and I am sitting here, heavy, unfocused and longing for a companion. The journalist could be one, but it seems we are so out of sync. I believe we both notice this. Perhaps, we are both craving someone and continuing our communications in hopes that the other is malleable, yet solid enough to fill the companion mold.
I text Caballito in PR. He always responds. He writes, “I miss you.” Yet, I am angry. I need more. I need him to make me feel as if he is there, some permanence, some security. I need him to be a companion from afar, yet he is failing miserably. He misses me. He craves me. So does Rediscoveringme. Yet, these are physical arrangements donning a mask of emotions.
Reading “Mr. Unavailable” as per T’s recommendation has made me realize that all of these men are not even a fragment of the companions that I wrongly am fooled to believe they are. I am left, hollow.
I know this feeling will pass, but I am in a fog of emptiness. My girlfriends are here vying for my attention. Although, they can’t fulfill what I am desperately seeking. I will see them and kiss kiss goodbye, sink into a cab and feel, perhaps, lonelier. I need to lie in bed and be held. Cuddle. Talk. I miss the exes. I am missing everyone who has given me this.
What the hell do I do? I know that I must fulfill this hole elsewhere. I recognize that I love my independence and that there are pros to having this emptiness. That I choose this. That I am a Ms. Unavailable, but in this moment, I want to sink into nothing. Or even grab the man on the laptop in the corner. And rest my head on his shoulder. Take me home. Let us put socks on and sweats and watch some daytime movies. I can’t work like this.
And this double life, this double life will perpetuate this hole. Any man who wants a girlfriend, who is emotionally available, does not want me.