A life without love
I have never been in love. When I was young, I know it existed, or was supposed to exist, but I have no idea what it was. In our family, other things were more important—although what those things were I had no idea. But, come to think of it, it was thought important for children to be “toughened up” so they would not be disappointed by life later.
I never expected to be loved, and I was therefore never disappointed. Looking back at it, I must have puzzled some lovely young ladies. Even my family was puzzled, and at one point made it clear that I must get a “girl friend”. I had just finished one year of college without a single date, and was calmly looking forward to another one. I got excellent grades, and thought that was enough—that was what college was for, wasn’t it?
That summer I was attending a “youth camp”, an interlude designed by the church authorities to enable young men and women to meet one another easily and naturally—without, of course, “becoming physical”. This prohibition, I found out later, was easily circumvented—although I could have easily discovered it for myself, if I had wanted to—which I didn’t. Celibacy seemed natural to me, and exactly what the scriptures recommended.
But I met a young woman with similar instructions from her parents (to get a boy friend) So we became a couple. One night we went for a walk in the moonlight. I noticed she had lovely olive-brown skin. She didn’t seem to notice anything, but used the opportunity to tell me how much she hated her father. She was very clear about that. Looking back at it over fifty years later, I can see she was not the loving type—and indeed our “relationship” did not last long.
True to form, all the women in my life have been of this type. I have avoided love with complete success—although this was not obvious at first. Finally, far too late, I can see the dominant pattern of my life.