Anatomy of a Breakdown

One of the reasons I so love having a blog is the ability to tell others' stories. It's so boring to tell my own.

Sometimes I feel as if the life I live is not my own. I feel like I'm here watching a bigger story. It's as if I don't have a story of my own, but I'm really here to tell the stories of others, lessons that need to be screamed from the rooftops, when no one else listens. And whenever I tell these stories, I feel like my life is attached to theirs, making one unstoppable loop, repeating itself over and over again.

The subject of my thought tonight centers around the failure of love.

I'm angry with the bastardly and asinine ways of my gender. We testosterone-belching, heartless, selfless fools are to blame for much heartbreak in this world. Do not mistake me. I love testosterone; I love being a man. I do not, however, understand or relish in our inability to be heartless toward women and be so selfish.

Enter a friend of a friend I just met. She tells her sad story of the first boyfriend she really loved and gave herself to. When the guy found out how much she loved him, he broke up with her, much to everyone's dismay ...and confusion. Why on God's green earth would a man who has everything screw it up and kick a lady to the curb?! I'm looking at this girl thinking, "Someone did not appreciate the blessing they had!"

Later on that evening, ironically enough, we watch "Diary of a Mad Black Woman," a comedic drama in which a man divorces his wife and remarries a woman he's been having an affair with. One theme of that movie is just this: Why do men reject having the perfect woman and either ditch them / cheat on them for some low-life substitute?

I think the root lies in selfishness. Men think only for themselves. We have wandering eyes, never content with what we have. Always looking at the grass on the other side of the fence. But still, selfishness seems too simple an explanation. Whenever I meet a girl who goes through something like this, I want to help pick them up to their feet, assure them that there is someone out there who will be willing to even lay down his life for them...

Don't get me wrong. Women are not faultless ...and I'm totally pro-man. This is what I am, I am a man...that rhymes. All jokes aside, this is crawling beneath my skin.

Once again, I am telling the stories of others here. For some reason I've only been in love with one woman and never been heartbroken or broken any hearts. Maybe this is why I feel so strongly the whiplash of the failure of commitment...the breakdown and inability to satisfy that is inherent to love.

I know what C.S. Lewis would say. Love is a decision, a conscious choice. There's the feeling of being "in love" that lasts for a time, and then there's the commitment later on. I asked my parents what the best part of their marriage is at this point in time. They won't deny that the sex has been great, having kids is an adventure, the tender-eyed moments are precious, and companionship is comforting...but the best thing is just having that simple commitment there. Of slapping each other on the butt and saying, "I'm committed to you...and whatever happens in joy or pain, we're doing this together."