Greatest Love Inside of Me

Comment: SpiritLinks

"When I was young, I never needed anyone. And makin' love was just for fun. Those days are gone… All by myself. Don't wanna live, all by myself anymore." So goes the 1975 song, written by Eric Carmen or Michael Masser (depending on the source), inspired by Rachmaninoff.

I live partner-less and alone. My significant other is Mortimer, the charismatic monoga-moose (stuffed of course) who helps keep me connected with my inner child.

Mortimer aside, even in the imperfect shape I am in, more than once I've been told "I wouldn't push you out of my bed." The part of me that thinks we shouldn't judge by looks squirms with discomfort over the comment; but vanity and lust tempt me to suck in my belly and run for a water pill, screaming, "Yes!" Even so, my self worth is not determined by my looks. I primp and adorn my body to put forth the best of me. And it's fun, like decorating a Christmas tree. I work out to gain strength, stamina, and endurance – especially now. I'm gearing up for the best years of my life.

Okay, the physical me can still pass, even with a crackled face and mushy tush. "But what about my brain?" My feminist persona cries. What, too, about my spirituality, values and integrity? And what about my heart?

I just want what millions of other women have wanted throughout time, a loving and committed relationship. "Will you respect me in the morning?" I remember crying, as Bongo wooed me into his den, several hundred lifetimes ago. They didn't really drag women by the hair. At least not Bongo. He built a bed of wheat and grasses in the best cave on the California (to be) coast and scratched elk, giant sea turtles, seagulls and puffins on the wall for decor.

In recent years of this incarnation, I have met several people who have been together in successful union. Many of these relationships have lasted 30 to more than 50 years. Even in those where a partner has died, I hear the depth of affection in their grief. They are saddened and they are grateful for what they had together. Furthermore, some have remarried other wonderful partners. Mama lied! There are more than enough good men to go around.

God help me, I could live another 40 years and I want to make peace with my future. Given limited control over what comes in life, what fate delivers that I cannot change I try to accept. The idea of solitude as a permanent state seems a distinct possibility, and I'm evaluating what it means that I may spend the second half of my life talking to a stuffed moose (no offense Mortimer) and a computer.

Some days it feels like an exceptionally welcome option: No {italic}he{/italic} to disappoint, neglect, reject, confuse or offend me. No more fruitless attempts to fix a man in hopes he will love me for it. No him to surprise, tease or adore – oops, slipping into the minus side. Another plus, I don't want to share the remote! I want to sprawl all over my bed with 6 odd-sized pillows of foam, buckwheat, and polyester. I want to get up at 3:00am to write or turn on music or a sappy movie. I want to go away to a weekend workshop without worrying about what he is doing in my absence.

But then there are times when the realization that I may be alone the remainder of my life makes me sad and even angry. Not that I have closed the door to the symbiotic bond I crave. I just need to mourn the unfulfilled wish for a deep love relationship.

"When will I be loved?" Linda Rondstadt croons.

"When I find a new man
That I want for mine
He always breaks my heart into
It happens every time"

Not the most encouraging lyrics.

Oh and that other thing – sex. Though I enjoyed it, I felt lost in the enchantment, enslaved by desire and hope for reciprocation. I thought if I gave enough he would want me, and only me, forever. 'T ain't necessarily so! Now, it will take a mutual, trustworthy bond, firmly established before I re-open the doors to passion.

In or out of romance I will never again mirror wretchedness and sin. No wonder I chose partners badly. Nor will I compromise my integrity, values or self-respect. In reflection of God's creation, I mend my heart and soul, I coddle my wounded inner child. I don't know what my future holds, but alone or in relationship with a partner, family, colleagues and friends, I am loved and cared for, first by me (and some say, by God). And then I have the will and might to love and care for you.

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Diana deRegnier is a freelance writer and writes the weekly column SpiritLinks for UPI www.ReligionAndSpirituality.com from the San Francisco Bay Area. Her articles appear in numerous Internet and print publications including www.Arcamax.com . Diana is also editor and webmaster for the non-profit program www.spiritlinksnews.org for spiritual explorers of any or no religious affiliation. © Copyright 2007 by Diana deRegnier.