Singularity

There are really and truly just way too many people in the world. I’m not making a value judgment in saying that but rather making a comment about the limits of one lifetime to truly discover the nature of humanity. How is it possible that we say we know what we like in another person when we could never meet most of the inhabitants of the world?


I declare I have met almost half of the inhabitants of the world. Oh alright, maybe just a fourth of them. Or at least a good number of the males clustered around the Washington DC area over the last two years or so; that’s still a lot of people. I long ago stopped keeping track of those kinds of numbers and, in terms of dating I have no earthly idea how many men I’ve met and rejected right out of hand, but I dare say it’s about three times as many as the number who made it to a second date – and probably ten to twenty times as many as those who made it to something more intimate.

Put that against the number of men who didn’t even pass first muster based on whatever medieval precision instrument it is that I use to gauge such things as suitability for dating. That adds up to a lot of people who didn’t feel “right” to me for whatever reason.

Everyone goes through a similar vetting process; I’m not claiming to be unique. What I am pointing out, however, is how truly special it is when you DO meet someone who makes you feel wonderful. Of all the people there are out there and of all those who might be attracted to you in some way, narrowed down to those you like and find attractive, then further narrowed to that person who sounds all the alarms in your body alerting you to the fact that someone special has entered the area. Narrow it down AGAIN if you make that person also feel the same way and it becomes clear that love is a total crap shoot. When we are lucky enough to find it, why do so many of us treat love so badly? What has love ever done to us? It’s not love’s fault that our brains are so limited that we can’t untangle the difference between pure love and disappointment, fear or jealousy. Yet we blame love.

Our human limitations are not love’s fault. Rather than blame love, we should be bowing down and thanking love every time someone loves us, every time we share a special bond with someone.

We would never mistreat the other rare things in life. Think of a diamond. It’s given special treatment, high value, a place of honor, a delicate yet strong space for storage; it’s highly prized and gently handled. Because the process of finding a diamond is so intense, when we are actually privileged enough to have one, we treat it specially and with great care. Why is this not true of love?

Love is rare and beautiful. It is a gift of the highest order. Love squandered is a tragedy of divine proportions.