I’ve never been good at belonging. Even as a kid I would sit in class and feel the distance. Like everyone else was in on a big secret. That feeling never really left. There’s always been a thin pane of glass between me and the world.
The two strands of my personal double helix have been money and partners.
I grew up in a post-depression household with parents that were, shall we say, distracted. From the jump, I had this notion that money and mommy were hard to find. And that these were the only things that could nurture me. If only I could close those loops, this emptiness would surely go away.
At the turn of the century (I love saying that) I was living a life that looked great on paper. Job with a title, two salary household, comfy suburban house full of boys and toys and noise, a partner I’d built some semblance of a life with.
We were both in great jobs, checking all the boxes, looking good at parties. Both good at pretending things were steady. But beneath it all was fracture. The good life felt like a picture on the wall of my mind. Nice frame. 2-D.
I have had three major relationships in my life. Each followed the same pattern.
“This is forever.” I give what I feel is everything. She says I’m distant. Confused and a little angry, I become yet more distant. I want connection, but only at arm’s length. I want to be understood, but only on my terms.
I was seeking nirvana. They were trying to get through Thursday without imploding. When things inevitably fell apart, it wasn’t from drama. No barbarians at the gate. More like erosion.
Then, the job. I gave decades to mortgage banking, built systems to handle risk, to understand the human mess that creates said risk. In 2023, the machine I helped create decided I was a risk. A duplicate.
They called it a layoff. I was more disappointed in them than angry. They didn’t owe me anything. But fuck them. Yeah, they did.
Looking back, I see that my entire adult life was a shadow dance of mind playing out these two threads: money and mommy. But against a backdrop of an almost feral independence. Don't stand too close to me. Don't assume that I need you. Yes, the granite looks great by the Viking. No, I don’t want to fuck right now. Of course I love you, why do you ask?
It's easy in hindsight to see where the fissures were. And it's tempting to say that knowing what I know now I would do it differently if I were to do it again. But I doubt it.
I came into this world a little skeptical of it. And what you look for is what you find. I was always hoping something, or someone, would prove me wrong.
The one true thing has been the boys. Through crazy times we have all stuck together. And that's not nothing. They saw me through the glass, they shattered it in ways no one else dared. With joy. With the glib affection that accompanies dudespeak.
But money and mommy still play hard to get.