“Love and work are the cornerstones of our humanness.”

- Sigmund Freud

By this account, I am only half human.

I’m kidding. There is plenty of love in my life. Love of family, love of friends, love of animals. But I must say that when I put on one of my favorite love songs, like say, “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, it doesn’t have the same spark as when I have someone specific in mind.

But the search for this specific someone is so exhausting, and it’s the first thing I will push to the side for something else. For example, as I was recovering from my cleanse ordeal (I am almost 100% better as the glands beneath my throat are now the size of a dime as opposed to a golf ball), I actually had not one, but two (maybe?) great career opportunities fall into my lap. Obviously, I did not plan for this to happen while the fluids in my neck were rapidly expanding the size of my face.

The very first thing I did when I found out I would have to spend my entire weekend working was to push a date I had on my calendar to next week. And I didn’t think twice about it.

I have never taken dating very seriously. If I were to make a list of things I care about, dating would be at the very bottom (next to Kim Kardashian and shaving my legs). There are so many other things on which to focus – family, friends, vocation, health.

In my last relationship, I became obsessed with the little sacrifices. I did his laundry and I brought his shirts to the cleaners. I monitored his eating and hygiene habits. I didn’t know at the time that all of these things would not help my relationship, but hinder it. No one wants to be in a relationship with one’s mother/martyr, and I am afraid I had taken on the role with great aplomb.

So the next time around (if there is a next time at this rate), I will not make so many little sacrifices. I want to maintain my identity, and create more formal boundaries so that history does not repeat itself. I want work and love to be separate, and yet coexisting.

But perhaps my greater problem (if it is a problem?) is that I never see myself making the grand sacrifices that are often required for the health and survival of a relationship. Many friends of mine (still in their early to late 20’s) have already made such sacrifices for their significant others, and this terrifies me. My mother missed out on a fantastic master’s program because of a relationship and she has told me more than once how much she regrets her decision. This shall not happen to me.

But am I overriding my own humanness by denying my need for love (and passion?) just because I’m too lazy to deal with the messiness of human relationships? What would Freud say? (Maybe my anus has something to do with it. That’s what I learned from A Dangerous Method.)

At my root, I think I am just too selfish to make the grand sacrifices for a relationship, and this selfishness stems from two things – being a part of the “me” (or millennial) generation, and taking what all those damn feminists say seriously. If everything I do and say is awesome, and I am not supposed to give an inch of what I want for my prospective partner, then how am I to function as a part of a two person team?

Maybe Freud’s right. I hope aliens stay hermits until the end of their days.