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Friday, September 2, 2011

Here's the thing about me dating older men. I like it. I like the learnedness, the maturity-- but not the difference of experience and sense of superiority it can tend to bring to the relationship. That, and I am young: young enough and naive enough to still cling to the slowly-wilting belief that when we "grow up," we all become these perfect, balanced beings. We do not; age has only some bearing in the art of becoming centered and realizing our innate wholeness (and I'm a ways away, to put it delicately).

I don't feel quite like I connect with people. Not many people, anyways. And I used to ascribe that to problems with my age-group; I was in such solitude because I just didn't feel a spark during interaction with others my age; I got along better with adults.

I am also fortunate enough to have an unconditionally loving and supportive family (does it blow anyone else's mind that families who hold their children in a position of unconditional positive regard are in the minority?)-- and that, unfortunately, is still an issue for most people my age-- not to mention members of earlier generations.

But being stuck in the middle isn't quite so bad; with all that space between oneself and others, one doesn't so much shrivel as he blossoms, grows into the spaces between-- spaces which no one else can reach or even dream of.

Still, it's lonely here in the spaces between.

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