unbearable lightness

Young gay men in online personal ads like to tell you that they're "not into drama." You read this all the time. And, by this, they do not mean that they're uninterested the newest revival of a play by Ibsen or John Millington Synge (usually quite the reverse). What they mean is that they don't want any "drama" from you, the prospective date. No histrionics, no intense emotions, no accusations, no neediness, nothing over-the-top. Save that for the stage.

So many people write this on their profiles, that it leads you to wonder, "Who's 'into' drama? Who would actually enjoy that kind of painful, overly emotional intensity?" Well, as a matter of fact, I would. Or rather, I might.

In the past few weeks, I've been doing an awful lot of listening. Listening to friends on my cell phone or in person, hearing about their relationships. Long-term relationships that have been going on for a year or more. New relationships that are hot and heavy with sexual passion. Simmering relationships that are building towards something. Relationships that all of these people are pretty worked up about, relationships that have some kind of vast all-consuming impact on their emotional lives.

I've always been a decent listener in these kinds of situations, but in the past few years I've really developed my skills. A while back, I participated in an informal series of workshops on listening run by a Chinese Catholic nun (no joke) who has done a lot of work on conflict resolution and peace negotiation. I began to learn the importance of listening objectively, of reflecting back to people what they themselves are telling you rather than interjecting or imposing your own agenda or interpretation. I'm always talking to my friends about trying to achieve balance, to look at things objectively, to go after what's healthy for them and not to make unrealistic expectations. I'm also always telling them, in different ways, to look at what they have and to see that it's good. Like Friar Laurence in Romeo & Juliet, I'm always saying, "There art thou happy."

And it seems to help. Seems to calm people down, to get them to see the situation anew. It leads them to new ways that they can approach these intractible problems with lovers and potential lovers. You can't avoid the drama, but you can manage it.

And people are always thanking me and telling me that I seem so well-adjusted, sensible. They tell me that the advice I've brought them around to is "absolutely right." How do I have this preternaturally mature sensibility for what it takes to maintain a healthy, stable, committed romantic relationship? Perhaps because I've never had one.

The great irony of it all is how trivial my romantic affairs are right now. They have their passing pleasures and they have their annoyances, too. I become mildly frustrated at times with some guys who I've been seeing off and on for a while when they send me mixed signals or act weird or confuse me with their behavior. They don't call and then when they do they act all lovey-dovey and then they ignore me again. But I don't get worked up really and I don't feel too rejected because I don't have a whole lot invested in these interactions. I haven't really shared a lot with any of the guys I've been seeing and I haven't really come to care about them (or them about me) so their behavior doesn't really get to me. The annoyance isn't deep, it's superficial -- a mosquito bite rather than an open wound.

I love the word "blithely." I associate it with 1930s screwball heroines who carry on blithely in the face of comically complicated situations. I'm living my life quite blithely these days. Yes, days at my job can be long and frustrating. I sometimes wish that my artistic career were moving further faster. And I wish that I could meet someone who's either a) ready to sleep with me anytime we get together or b) my soulmate. But these aren't really grave concerns. Fundamentally, I like my life. No matter what frustration I may be feeling at the moment, I know that things are on the whole moving in a positive general direction and this keeps me well-balanced. I blithely go about from one thing to another, bouncing back from little obstacles and troubles. I don't really need to take any of the advice that I give out to friends. I live it. But I live it in situations that are remarkably less intense than theirs.

Deep down, I worry that it's all too balanced, that nothing really gets to me and that maybe it never will. You're supposed to come to a measured, mature understanding of life after going through all that messy emotional painfulness first. So where am I headed? Where does all this "wisdom" come from -- did I pick it up by reading books? Is it real at all if I haven't earned it?