the Trouble with love.

I don’t want to give anything up. I guess I’m selfish. And particular. About the company I keep, the way I go about my day, and I think it’s getting ‘worse’ the older I get. …and I’ve realized I’m a control freak. Should’ve figured this one out a long time ago, I guess… Straight A student and valedictorian in high school, captain of the swim and ski teams, but then I faltered and I was a bit lost for a while. Several years, really. Did the college thing, the ski bum thing, the raft guide thing. Then went to nursing school. Got some more good grades. Then became an ICU nurse. That should’ve been another point to the ‘control freak’ side of things. Except for the first year, I cried as I left the hospital more often than not, overwhelmed, feeling inadequate, but damned if I’d give up. By the second year, it was probably more like half crying, half raging at the failures of the system. By the third, I’d be pissed at the system and/or ready for a drink. Or two. Or three. The fourth year–I stayed to get all the experience I could possibly get before starting travel nursing–I’d often leave the hospital feeling like I’d done something pretty fucking rad. Or I’d be crying, or ready for a drink, or pissed at the system. …guess I was putting all my experience to good use… What I did learn was to be extremely detail-oriented in my work, super particular about how I take care of my patients, and more organized than Martha fucking Stewart.

But I’ve digressed. So back to the part where there’s Trouble with love. It’s an elusive, slippery, fickle bastard. To some it seems to come so easily. For so many of us (at least I hope I’m not alone), it’s an enigma. I think I’ve loved. And I’ve certainly lost. But now I’m in this place where I have my own life, where things are pretty much (finally!) as I want them to be, I’m about as free as a bird, and I don’t want to give any of this up. But I’m single. Sure there are interests. More often than not, there’s someone interested in me, or I’m interested in them. Often it’s even mutual. The Trouble is circumstance. I’m traveling through, they have a girlfriend, they’re traveling through, they’re in an open relationship, I don’t want an open relationship, I’m not ready, they’re not ready, we live on two different continents, things are Complicated. Troubled.

So here I sit, listening to a song on repeat:

‘Single and lonely…

Come up to my house
Drink with my friends
You can lay on my couch
Aching to start all over again
Go on back to your room
Wait a minute, it’s my room
Was it something I said?


And as I sip tequila here in Mexico, I’m still single, more often than no happy, occasionally lonely, but definitely thinking that there’s Trouble with love.



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