When I look back on my life and on the many failed relationships, I am somewhat unnerved to find not a collection of near-misses and close calls, but a menagerie of glaringly wrong choices and disturbingly ignorant hopes.
I wonder how badly my self-esteem could be lacking in order to justify why I invested in such poor stock. Maybe I simply had a masochistic desire to be in constant agony. Maybe I liked the challenge. Maybe it was all alike an adventure. Maybe I was just lonely.
Maybe we all need someone. Food. Water. Shelter. Intimacy? Could it be possible that once one graduates from the needs of survival, we begin to focus on the needs of the soul?
If that’s the case, maybe, just maybe, we would all do the same thing if we were in my place.