Cynicism

I believe that cynicism is a choice, an easy way out.  I do it with entertainment.  Something is coming out that I want to see, and I tell myself over and over that I'll be disappointed; then sometimes I'm not.  I enjoy movies more if my expectations are low.  I hate it when people tell me all the highlights before I see something.  I want to be delighted, but the less I expect, the more likely I am to enjoy the movie.

But I refuse to do that with people.  I don't know why.  Maybe I would be happier if I assumed that all men are married, lying, cheating assholes, so I should just take the best of what is offered in the moment and how cares about who gets hurt, least of all me, because men are shallow and the world sucks.  But somehow, I don't think I would be happier if I were more jaded.

Life were certainly be easier if I were jaded. In some ways, I'm choosing to remain naive.  It takes a lot of energy, sometimes, to actually mourn the losses, instead of just snorting them off with a "why would I expect anything different?".

I know there is a good chance that I will be fundamentally alone, on a romantic level, for the rest of my live.  Maybe I'll meet another MaxEarnest and have a fling.  But the chance of me actually meeting someone who would make me happier to be with him than by myself, and for him to feel the same way seems unlikely.  I told MaxEarnest, I would move to Berlin if he would.  That meant selling my home, quitting my job, leaving my mother-tongue and the country and culture I know.  But I would have done it.  We could have bought an apartment with the proceeds from my apartment.  But I had conditions; I wanted to have kids and I wanted him to get a job, and he said no.  That was probably the closest I ever would have come.

And, fundamentally, that is OK.  I have a very good life.  But it is lonely at night and when someone wakes my heart for a moment, and then it turns out he is lying, I cry.  I have to.  If the tears don't run down my cheek, they will harden into armor.