Hoisted by my own petard

Hilariously, some religious/hippy/intellectual decided to take me to task over yesterday’s post today, and talk about the universals of love, absence of expectation etc etc.

Longer term readers will know that I have already covered all this in many previous posts, and in the free book Best Love Letter Ever  

I was suitably irritated, naturally, and indicated that not only have I already walked that path, high minded ideals fail to keep you warm at night, provide emotional support or even smile at you.  They are, in short, useful for nothing apart from making sure you aren’t too impulsive, and for romantic inspiration.

To begin with, there was an issue of helplessness.  My elderly mother is my first priority above anything else, then I have two cats to consider.  Even if there had not been an additional issue of a secret insecure wife, the whole ‘being in love’ situation would have been a non-starter.  Then there was the problem of my unfortunate turn of phrase and cynical shyness.

This gentleman is elderly.  Either he is married, and full of complete shit, or he is likely to spend his life alone if he considers love to be an entirely abstract issue.  I would hazard a guess that the answer is the former.

Of course in my own case, I too have been this stupid, because it was not until I wrote Best Husband Ever that I realised how out of control and unreasonable my feelings actually were.  I was simply too hidebound and horrified to fully admit to them.

Ironically, the fact he was married is the only reason I have even met the individual I am in love with in person, because I knew that I was entirely safe. (the source of emotional danger being me rather than him) That is how much the idea of being in love terrifies me.  I was previously unaware of being such a scaredy cat, but there it is.  You can hide a lot behind an ego.


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