I’ve been doing some self-reflection and pondering the way ahead as I move into what remains of my golden years. Honestly speaking and notwithstanding my bitching and moaning, I’m living a comfortable and mostly satisfying retired life here in my scenic little town. The one aspect I’ve been most unhappy about has been my failure to find and maintain a truly loving relationship. And yes, I know that is all on me. And you, my dear readers, are quick to remind me of that fact whenever my whining rants and self-pity get to be too much. See, this blog does serve a purpose!
A commenter on my Live and Learn post defined the nature of my failures with women as being due to what he called “transactional relationships”:
If you really are seeking some sort of love and companionship, you have to start by eliminating the transactional dimension of your “relationships.” Another astute commenter used the phrase “pay for play” to describe your situation. As long as you’re unable to rise above the transactional (she gets something out of this; I get something out of this), you’re doomed to marinate in your own hell.
I hadn’t really ever thought of it quite that way so that set me to thinking. Looking back it is true that almost all of my “love” relationships had a transactional aspect to them. Maybe it is just the way I’m wired or perhaps it’s just my admittedly selfish nature, but I’m not seeing how I might escape this Groundhog Day-like cycle. I mean, aren’t the traditional wedding vows transactional in nature? Making mutual promises to one another about all the things you will do for that person “until death do us part” is tantamount to entering into a contract. What’s more transactional than that?
So, I’ve been married four times. Some might call that a failure, but on the other hand, I did find four women in this world willing to take those vows of eternal love. That it was all for naught isn’t all that relevant, is it? In the case of wife #1, she had my baby. I wanted to keep that baby girl and raise her the best I could. Marriage was the avenue for doing that, so I gladly made that transaction. After five years that wife decided she didn’t want the job of being a mother anymore (we also had a son by now) so I became a single father.
Wife #2 was and is probably one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I knew she’d make a great mom for my kids (she was a widow with one young child) and so I convinced her to marry me. I did love her in my fashion but there is no denying the transactional nature of that relationship. Of course, once the kids were grown the foundation of the marriage no longer existed. I recall that when I told my daughter of the pending divorce, she said to me: “I never understood why you got married in the first place. You two have nothing in common. She doesn’t even laugh at your jokes.” I responded that I got married so she would have a mother. My daughter looked at me and said “Daddy, we were doing just fine as the three of us.” Oh well, that one is all on me and I hurt a very good woman in the process. I’m not proud of that at all.
Now, wife #3 was all about passion. I mean, that was certainly true in the physical sense but it also carried over into our intellectual life as well. We fought about everything, but not really in a bad way. We both worked in labor relations and we’d have heated debates about work-related issues as a matter of course. Once I wised up and left my liberal orthodoxy behind we’d fight like cats and dogs over politics too. But the thing is, we were engaged. We argued because we cared. And once I moved to Korea and she reneged on her promise to join me there, I really missed that aspect of our married life. That’s probably one of the few instances of a non-transactional relationship I’ve managed to achieve. In the end, it was still a failure, but in a twisted kind of way, it worked while it lasted.
My Korean wife (#4 if you’re keeping score) was pretty much the complete opposite of my third wife. The language barrier played a large part in that I suppose as our interactions were limited to mostly mundane questions and responses. But she was a good woman and had a good heart. And she changed my life. I was supposed to retire and move to the Philippines in 2010. But after one of my trips there I came home sick and was hospitalized for a couple of days. Jee Yeun took time off work and stayed with me 24/7. And that got me thinking. I knew the Filipinas I had been meeting would love me for what I could offer them but likely only until a better option came along. I knew Jee Yeun would always be there for me. So, that’s what I chose. The deal was we’d always take care of each other and I was happy or at least satisfied with that. I guess that’s transactional too, but at least it was mutual. It was shocking when Jee Yeun unilaterally backed out of the deal. And not to make excuses, but I’ve been cynical about love ever since.
Now, after that final failure (and it is final, I will never marry again) I’ve been floundering. I want to have love in my love, but I’m unwilling to take the risks that loving someone requires. I don’t want another broken heart. So, I came up with a brand new plan. It was the ultimate in transactional relationships–I would pay someone to do and be all the things a girlfriend should provide, except there would be no love involved. I was a fool to believe it was foolproof. In the end, I fell in love with her and she broke my heart. Turns out she was better at the transactional game than I was–dumping me for a guy who offered her a better package. Is that how Karma works?
So, now what? We’ve identified the problem and that would be me. But what to do about it? Is being aware of my transactional nature enough to change it? Or will this be my destiny:
…like a wind-up toy aimed at a wall, you tend to hit that wall and to keep stubbornly trying to walk through it. You’ve been great about accepting the various criticisms we’ve offered (frankly, I might not react so well if I were in your place), but deep down, you’re not really accepting them. You’re stubbornly, eternally walking into that wall, into that wall, into that wall. Until you divorce yourself from that momentum and that trajectory (some would call this karma), nothing is going to change, no matter how much you rhapsodize about loftier things.
With awareness comes acceptance. Except I’m accepting that I’m not likely to change at this stage of my life. After giving the matter lots of thought, I’ve concluded that I am unlikely to change because I’m not at all sure that I want to change. No, I’m not particularly happy with my current state of being but damn, being “in love” might just be worse. These past few days seeing how the power my feelings for Janey has made me vulnerable to hurt and despair has been a good reminder that there are worse things than being alone.
So, what next? Well, I’m going to strive to do better in the way I treat the women I meet. A transactional relationship is one thing, but using people in a way that causes them pain is unacceptable. I don’t think that was ever my intent but I believe there have been some inadvertent hurt feelings along the way. I’m going to learn to embrace my aloneness as just another part of who I am. Yes, I’ll find opportunities along the way to experience the unique pleasure female company can provide. Let that be my respite from loneliness.
Actually, the thought has occurred to me to give my “Plan B” another try. Just pay someone to be my girlfriend/companion in much the same way that I pay my domestic helpers to take care of my house. It could work. As long as I don’t fall in love.
And the best news of all dear readers is that you will not hear me bitch and moan about the sorry state of my love life. There is peace in acceptance.
