Conclusion

Wherein I Finally Wrap This Whole Thing Up

2020 was a disaster on a lot of levels. Many of the really awful things about the year weren’t necessarily surprising, especially the continuing corruption and toxicity of the Trump administration. And anyone who knows anything about U.S. Politics knows that the U.S. election cycle is as mean-spirited and corrosive as just about anything else in this country; even though I had high hopes for the presidential election, and in fact the result was the one I’d been hoping for, I wasn’t so naive as to believe my anxiety would ebb until Biden was sworn in. Still, I’d be lying if I said that I foresaw constantly wearing PPE, hunting for toilet paper like I was in some kind of scatalogical doomsday scenario, and not being able to see loved ones face to face. Oh well; hindsight is 2020.

As vaccines become increasingly available (at least in the United States) and my life begins to approach a state closer to normalcy than I’ve experienced in fifteen months, I’m guardedly optimistic. However, I’m not optimistic that things will suddenly be the way they used to be; as the pandemic raged across the world I was witness to the unequivocal, unrepentant selfishness of so many of my fellow Americans, and I question whether I’ll ever feel safe living among people who would probably push an elderly grandmother in front of a bus to avoid minor inconvenience. I don’t feel kinship with people like that. I don’t want to feel kinship with them.

However, I do feel hopeful that when I am once again able to do the things I took for granted and in some cases didn’t even bother doing because I assumed I’d have the chance later, I do them. Whether it’s going to a spontaneous movie on my day off, attending a new meetup, having a leisurely lunch and beers at a favorite brewpub, shaking hands, giving a hug to a consenting person, or even being able to smile with my mouth as opposed to just my eyes, I’m going to try and make sure I never again have cause to regret something I didn’t do.

That goes for dating, too. I don’t know if I’m a casual sex guy anymore; while I’d probably engage in it if the opportunity arose, I don’t really think it’s my style these days. Granted, a large part of the reason is that I can’t in good conscience have sex with someone who thinks Coronavirus is a hoax, has ever used the expression “All lives matter”, or votes Republican. On the other hand, I would really love to sit across a table from someone at a coffee shop or a bar and get to know them over the space of a couple hours as that unique sensation of anticipation and excitement hopefully consumes us. That way, if it doesn’t and the person says some stupid shit like “The Affordable Care Act is slavery”, I can get the fuck out of there. But it doesn’t seem like kind of a date is going to happen anytime soon.

For more than thirty years my validation came primarily from sex, or even the possibility thereof. As I’ve stated elsewhere on this blog, many of the decisions I’ve made throughout my life, from choosing a college course schedule to choosing an outfit to wear, were based on how likely I was to get laid as a result. Generally speaking, making my decisions involved determining how appealing to women I might seem as a result, i.e. “Does this pair of jeans make my ass look good?” However, in some cases my thought process was more along the lines of “How many available women am I likely to encounter during this particular pursuit?” Ultimately, though indirectly, it all came down to “How likely is it that sex will result?”

I realize this sounds problematic, if not actually predatory, but despite the fact that I was a younger, less enlightened man back then, I never really expected women to just give me sex. I knew that wasn’t how it worked. I was handsome, even sexy, and not always as awkward as I probably come off now. I had style. I was good at making conversation. But I wasn’t the kind of guy who walked into a social situation and expected to leave with one or more available women. When it happened, I enjoyed it and it surely boosted my confidence. But it didn’t always happen, I didn’t expect it to, and that probably kept me humble.

So if for three-fourths of my life I got my validation from sex and suddenly I find myself unable to do so – hell, these days I generally go unnoticed even on Twitter – where does that leave me? I am not unlike the rōnin of feudal Japan: masterless, wandering the Earth without purpose. And yes, I acknowledge that comparing a middle-aged man who finds himself suddenly less sexually desirable than he once was to an honest-to-god samurai is patently absurd, and frankly probably an insult to all the masterless samurai who eventually overcame their shame and became soldiers or bodyguards. So perhaps a better comparison is to the Fleetwood Mac song “Landslide”, found on their eponymous 1975 album and covered by artists such as Smashing Pumpkins and The Chicks:

Well I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I built my life around you

I get validation from my family to an extent. It’s not the same as the validation I feel when someone likes a sexy picture I’ve tweeted, but it’s validation nonetheless and I know I should be grateful for it. And at any rate, I can’t expect external validation anymore. It may come, or it may not, but counting on it for my sense of self-worth is a mistake.

At this point in my life it’s clear that I must find the affirmation I need within myself. This is not something to which I am really accustomed, but I’m actually finding it easier than expected. The modest pride I felt in the past upon creating art, cooking a delicious meal, or a professional accomplishment has increased exponentially, apparently out of necessity.

It works on a physical level, too. After years of balancing healthy confidence in my looks with humility, I’m pleased to report that I see less reason for the latter. Which is not to say that I’ve become a raging egomaniac, but I do see clearly what it is about me that many people have found, and likely continue to find, attractive. It’s rare, in fact, that I pass by a mirror and don’t like what I see.

Needless to say, I look forward to not having to wear a mask anymore.