Let's hope for the best

Chapter 44: Rubbing my feet against the carpet

Eventually, I've turned 32. It's been over a year, since Theo and I broke up.
I haven't finished picking up the pieces of my broken life... not yet.

But I have written many, many stories. Many more than I ever thought I could.

...

I have found a job, as a family doctor, in a town near the city where I live.

And it turned out to be unexpectedly satisfying: I've gotten to know this little community, and I'm becoming a part of it.

I made up my own little office; I have toys for the kids who come, and books, for everyone to read.

When I turn the key into the lock and open up, every morning, I feel alive.

And work is my love, my drug. It keeps me going.

...

And Theo has eventually moved out of town- or so, I have heard. I've never seen him again.

I've heard he found a good job opportunity in another city, and moved there.

For what I can gather, he's not seeing that colleague anymore, that he was seeing before.

I have no idea whether he's found someone else, or not; I'll never know.

I hope whatever he's doing, he's at peace.

I hope he'll one day get to build his little gaming team, and be a funny, loving dad, for some lucky little boy or little girl, because I know that he has it in him.

If he'll want that.

...

My siblings are doing fine, as well:

My sister has found a good job, and has finally said goodbye to the ghosts of her past.

My brother has found a way to let love enter his life again, and his girlfriend is becoming a part of our family now, as well.

My youngest is a teen-ager now: he's a great athlete, a little rascal, and definitely taller than me.

If I looked back, when I was his age!

So many memories, that sometimes I think, if I don't get them out of my mind, they'll suffocate me.

And my dad and his wife, I don't see them often: but when I do, I feel like he looks at me differently.

As if there is some sort of understanding between us.

As if now I know, as well.

How deep life can break you.

...

And in the meanwhile, Sophie is growing up. She calls me auntie now, and she smiles and jumps on me when she sees me. Jasmine is always busier and busier with her, and she and Alex are now planning to have their second child.

George and Olivia have gotten married last year, and she's 8 months pregnant right now.

Max has moved back in town as well; he had welcomed his son into the world, just a few months ago.

I love to spend time with them: I love children, I love to babysit for my friends.

But they keep bugging me, telling me that I must dive into dating again.

....

Eventually, a few months ago, I did: I brought myself to go on a few dates again.

Because my friends were breathing down my neck, and driving me crazy.

I didn't like it.

My dates were good guys, don't get me wrong.

I just felt absolutely no interest in them.

Whatsoever.

I even had sex with a guy: I didn't like it.

Unfortunately, after many years, I've come to this sad, sad realization:

I'm not turned on by people rubbing their privates against me- or any other actual physical action in itself.

I can like it, a lot: if I have that sort of deep mental connection with the person. If I could talk to them for hours, and never get tired.

If I'm crazily into them, if I admire them to no end.

That turns me on.

If they're just "ok". Nice guys. Random guys.

I don't feel anything.

It's just like, I don't know. Rubbing my feet against the carpet- no, maybe I like the carpet more. It is soft, at least.

...

Sometimes, I still struggle.

I can't seem to fit into what society expects of me anymore.

But yeah.

Did I ever??

I know that people have good intentions. They want to see me "happy".

And happiness, nowadays, is having the perfect instagrammable life.

Get married, and have children.

Scrape the bottom of your Pinterest boards, and construct a life that social medias will be proud of.

It doesn't matter with whom; just that it looks great, from the outside.

...

I started to feel this... I don't know. Disconnection.

Nowadays, people are disposable: you use them, and when you're tired, you upgrade to the new model. Like smartphones.

And you have this constant fear of missing out: you must find yourself a sexier partner, a biggest house, a cutest child. No problems allowed.

But people are not smartphones. Not the ones that I've met, at least.

You can't upgrade them forever.

And lives, are rarely without problems: at least, not the ones that I've lived.