A Lone Wolf in a Bubble Universe

Every now and then, I find myself in a bubble universe.

Growing up, I was a lone wolf.  Never the most popular kid on the playground, always lost in my own daydreams at recess (and not always by choice), I spent a lot of time wandering around the trees and bike paths, reading, drawing, writing, and just thinking.  High school came around, and I started making friends, met a girl there who I eventually followed to university, where I would then meet some of my closest friends, more family than family in many cases.  For much of the past ten years, I was a social being, a denizen of a community and civilization, seldom a day passing by when I didn't see or talk to someone I knew.

As for that girl, I would live with her for most of my twenties, marry her, and ultimately split from her. My family of friends remained, although many of them have either moved away, or our day-to-day lives have tended to diverge.  These days, for the most part, I've become a lone wolf again, and I've returned to exploring the wild.

I'm ambivalent about my alone time.  Loneliness abounds, and yet so does freedom.  I sleep alone, and yet I sleep wherever I want.  Often, I miss having someone to come home to, and yet I come and go as I please.  It's all a contradiction made manifest, my life at present.  Sometimes, though, I question whether it's that I choose this lifestyle, or if I've just gotten used to it.

Then, the bubble appears.

The human experience of existence sometimes generates more solitary shamans than venerated priests, of which I am definitely more of the former.  At this moment, I'd rather live with what feels right than what makes rationalistic or intellectual sense; would rather express sentiment, not argument; do what I want, even if the group begs to differ.  When I feel this way, I know that I'm in the bubble.

Several signs also indicate that my universe has become a bubble.  For starters, my sarcasm has lost all effectiveness.  I make jokes, friendly jibes towards my friends, and they all fall flat, creating irritation and making me appear to be a first-class douche.  It's as if some invisible force field has appeared between me and the rapport I've built with my closest friends over the past decade and they no longer "get me". Trying more simply pisses them off, making me want to withdraw rather than risk creating additional faux-pas.

Then I go the other way: I stop censoring myself on blogs and status updates and just say what's on my mind without giving a shit what people think. I ignore the stronger Alpha personalities trying to get me to do things I don't feel like doing.  As grateful as I am for my family of friends, I begin to reject the group.

I know I'm in the bubble because currently, I'm very productive in my personal life - papers signed and delivered, bills paid, dust-bunnies cleaned, stories completed, weights lifted, ellipticals run.  Similarly, while accomplishing old tasks and fulfilling old habits, I'm also seeking out new experiences, the types of things that I can best do alone when the group isn't leading me.  I've held leadership positions in the past, but I've never had an overriding urge to be in charge, to tell people what they can and can't do.  But nor do I want to be told what to do by someone else, not right now, anyway. 

Finally....I'm in the bubble because, well, I just prefer being alone.  It's that simple.

And yet, not completely.

Living with a romantic partner for years gets you accustomed to having another soul around, someone who's not just a "buddy", and as much as you can adapt and actually prosper as a single, independent, and free person, there is always a residual part of you that aches for one person to be there to hold you tight, to be intimate with, and to keep you warm at night.  No amount of buddy time, whether it's spent watching a game or trying to pick up girls at a club or a bar, is going to help: when I'm in the bubble, such activities only serve to remind me of what I don't have.  No, when my universe becomes rather bubbly, I work best finding new love on my own terms.

Far from being a form of weakness, this desire and yearning for intimacy is a part of the human experience, one that I never want to lose for the temporary sake of not feeling sad. Because, ultimately, in life as in fable, even the lone wolves of the world find each other, on their own terms, when the time's right. 

The bubble universe will burst, a not-so-Big Bang that will start everything fresh, restore the connections, bring me back to civilization.  Eventually, I'll re-emerge, but not today. 

Today, I'm in the wild. 

See you next time.