Of Single Awareness and Self-Love

Happy Single Awareness Day!” The first time my daughter said that to me, I just stared at her like she’d spoken some alien tongue. I am a bit slow. Finally I said “ Yes thank you, Happy Single Awareness Day” and laughed. It felt good to laugh about it.

I don’t joke about it enough. I’ve managed a few years where I could honestly say I was single and happy, but not nearly enough. Not enough compared to how much more I am single and miserably heartbroken. I usually take a year or more to get over someone.

Somehow I have this infallible sense of who is the least able to return my feelings and that is the one. The funny thing is how he always gives the appearance of being totally single right up until I profess my love, then “poof”. Out of nowhere this woman he only just met or the woman who had turned him down 10 times before or his family friend . . . pops up and they get engaged and married so fast. But I’m in luck because he still wants to be friends (with benefits as long as I keep quiet.)

No thank you. I’d rather be single.

I shouldn’t be surprised I’ve done my chart, Venus in the twelfth house. Love is my weakness, unless I can learn to be secretive. But my Moon in Gemini means I must show my feelings or explode. Even the Chinese Astrology hits where it hurts, born the day of the water dragon, I can heal any wound except a broken heart.

I chose not to believe that last bit, (we dragons tend towards egotism.) I chose to believe that even broken hearts can be mended with water. Tears. I tried not crying about one guy for a couple of years and felt dead inside. It wasn’t until I fell in love with a new person. The first moment he said something to remind me of my ex. the dam broke. I cried and cried and couldn’t stop.

I don’t need astrology though. I have this inkling that I know what causes every man I fall for to run so fast. I am doing something really important with my life. He feels guilty for wanting me to himself. My talking to God and dead people doesn’t help. That part I could hush up if I wanted to, and did when I was married. But I can never hide my severely autistic son. So there’s no point in worrying about the rest. I’m a weirdo and either you love me for being a weirdo or you don’t love me.

It makes sense. Guys fall in love with me for my weirdness, but get scared when I get serious. Weirdness is fun in little bits but terrifying in a big chunk. All of a sudden, he has to find someone else as quick as he can. The other woman knows he still has feelings for me and insists on his marrying her to prove his devotion to her. I don’t know, but it’s my best guess. It makes me feel better than sitting around saying they’re all jerks. They’re not. Relationships are hard for both sexes. All the choices today make it even more confusing.

I know the key to being happy single is to fill my own cup. If I want something, I do it or at least make a plan for how I can do it alone. I don’t wait for someone else to tell me it’s okay. Perfecting the art of self-love is a matter of survival. Rubbing my own stiff shoulders and feet may not be as fun as getting a massage from a partner, but at least I have no regrets the next day. I make a lot of mistakes, but that’s where a glaring of cats to hug and believing in God comes in handy. I am never really alone. My fiery Venus in Leo passion and Mercury in Cancer intuition may scare the living away, but it’s just what the dead are looking for.


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