Maybe a birthday is better than New Year's Day for thinking about the year that's gone and the year ahead. Thank heavens today for my friends, without whom my birthday would have passed unremarked. Throughout the day they were in touch: little messages, little gifts, texts, voicemails. And of course I'd had a lovely day yesterday, and bought myself some nice things too.
But I did spend some time thinking about what I am missing. Not in terms of gifts - I have plenty of stuff, and plenty of money to buy myself any more stuff that may suddenly be desired or needed. I am wondering - the audacity of hope - whether it is possible for me to love someone who would actually love me right back?
I have gone through most of my adult life in love with a succession of men who didn't or couldn't or wouldn't let themselves reciprocate. And you know what? I accepted that was the natural situation, because I knew I was hard to love. Always been told that.
Now you wouldn't think that wanting someone to love you was too much to ask, would you? I accept the reality of the situation that I'm in. I don't mean that kind of let's-turn-everything-upside-down-and-run-away-together love: after all, we're all lying dutifully in the beds we made, that's the sort of people that we are. I mean love within the limits of where we are in life. Simply, in the moment, feeling it, and looking into my eyes and saying so.
God, it's been a long time.
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