It’s a Saturday night and I’m four shots in. Not unusual for me except for the lack of company. So I sit in my usually comfortable solitude listening to music, reading my favorite online blog (jameslafond.com), and drinking. However, I feel oddly gut-wrenched.
This week I found out a woman I had been dealing with came down with a bout of infidelity at the most inopportune time, that time being within the confines of our relationship.
I’m more upset now than the moment I found out. Not because I’m stewing in my anger, but because the thoughts her actions caused are impeding on my solace.
Her actions…
Who is her?
I shouldn’t even be upset with her. She did what she was programmed to do, what I knew she would do, what she was meant to, even from the Garden.
Her name is Eve. Eve, instead of maintaining her role of supporting me, removed me from my Eden.
Was this Eve’s real role? Programmed like a timed bomb to blow at that inopportune time?
“My love keeps longing for a home,
for when my eye lids reach my cheek and I sleep,
I dream of loving an unknown, untainted, uncorrupted beauty…”
That’s an excerpt from something I wrote when I was young and ignorant. My love was only ever truly seeking solitude. At least in that manner my love would remain love.
Solitude has been my only true lover. Solitude has enhanced me, made me sharper, and grown me.
Solitude forces me to reflect.
Solitude, in itself, is untainted and uncorrupted.
Retreat is necessary when overwhelmed. It allows for safety and composition of strategy.
My Eve is my solitude, the only woman deserving of my rib.
