Opposing polarities

I'm starting to feel a little pathetic because I told both my mother and a close friend that I no longer care whether or not I ever find "that someone". I really don't mean that in any depressing kind of way, but I'm starting to realize that if given a choice between a fulfilling romantic life or a successful and fulfilling career, I would probably choose the latter. I even said the tragic words that I wouldn't care if I was celibate for the rest of my life. Well, I might be exaggerating on the last one. . .

I guess there really are a couple of things going on here. Up until I was about 27, the #1 priority was being involved with someone, usually the wrong someone. By the time I knew better I had also learned that focusing on other paths to self-fulfillment was reaping bigger rewards.

It doesn't help that I'm a painfully shy person who occasionally morphs into an extrovert. I've read about so many of my favorite performers who either confess to being painfully shy as well, or are described that way by others, so I guess maybe it makes sense that I would have these opposing polarities. I know how to strut my stuff, but turn into a 13 year old if a man I don't already know strikes up a conversation with me. Heaven help me if I'm interested in him as well.

It's crazy and completely true, but I'd rather speak in front of a thousand people than let someone know I'm interested in them. I hold on tightly to the idea that every crush and infatuation will dissipate with time, as long as I'm not foolish enough (as I have been recently) confide in the wrong person. (Note to self: Only share your crushes with people who also believe that if left alone, they will vanish into thin air.)

I couldn't find a video of Aretha's 1971 performance of Mixed Up Girl at the Fillmore West (I have the CD), but I found a version by Thelma Houston. I think of myself when I hear this song.