Assumptions

"It's really too bad about your disease." She said sadly.  "You're just too young to have to even think about spending the rest of your life alone."

"Yeah, it does suck." I agreed, wondering what made her even say such a thing.

"Well, like, maybe you could find an older man who didn't care about sex anymore." She offered.

"Why would I want to do that?" I asked, puzzled by the line of conversation.

"I don't want to discourage you," She said, "but isn't it going to be hard to find a guy your age who would be okay with not being able to have sex?"

"Probably." I answered. "But I wouldn't be interested in someone who wasn't interested in sex."

"But...you can't, can you?" She asked, genuinely baffled.

"Uh, yeah, I can." I said.

"But...how?" She wanted to know as if it were any of her business.

"The same way everyone else does."  I was getting annoyed.  The truth was, it wasn't the first time someone had assumed that since I was on dialysis, I could no longer function like a regular human being.

I took the time to explain to her that I have a tiny tube in my abdomen that in no way affects my female parts or my ability to engage in sex.  She seemed relieved.

"Oh, that's so good to hear!" She exclaimed.  "Well, you can have any man you want, then!"

"Right." I said.  "Any man I want."

People can make some pretty bold assumptions with just a tiny bit of information sometimes.  It happens to me a whole lot these days.  Since I had this tube placed in my abdomen almost a year ago, I have lost count of the number of people who have either assumed my sexuality was a thing of the past, or who have just come right out and asked me if I could still have sex.  It seems to be the first thing anyone thinks about.

No one considers that the most difficult thing for me in establishing any kind of relationship, is the very fact that I have this disease to begin with.  No one wants to be saddled with a sick person.  Very few men are brave enough to risk loving a woman who is depending on a machine beside her bed to keep her alive.  Plenty of them will step forward and offer to give away their kidneys, but practically none are bold enough to offer their hearts.

I don't blame them.  If I were them, I would be hesitant too.  I realize how much I would be asking of someone to commit to a life with me.  I'm a lot of trouble.  I'm stubborn.  I instigate arguments, I hog the covers, I get defensive and unreasonably angry over little things sometimes.  I make bad decisions, I let people take advantage of me and my car is usually far too messy.  Nobody's perfect, right?  But on top of the usual human flaws, I have this huge physical hurdle to overcome.  Who wants to put up with that?  Hell, I don't even want to deal with it.  How can I reasonably expect anyone else to take me on?

I'm not saying it doesn't get lonely.  It does.  I sometimes feel like I am in a desolate place and that I'm stuck there without hope of ever escaping it.  It seems unfair.  It makes me angry and even depressed at times.  "You have your children!" people say.  And I do love them dearly.  I'd take nothing for them. But children are not partners.  They aren't meant to share our cares or stay up laughing with us into the wee hours of the morning.  My son, especially, depends on me.  He isn't responsible for being my companion and he shouldn't be.  Being a parent is just not the same as being a companion.

Sex.  That's the easy part.  If love were as easy to obtain as sex, life would be a breeze.  But love takes courage.  It means committing in some way or another, to the acceptance of another person, faults and all.  Love isn't something you can give and then walk away from so easily.  It is an investment in another human being, not just their physical form, but every part of them.  Some of us are just too hard to love.  Some of us are just not strong enough to take the risk.

After all, what if I up and die?  I am well aware that my faults assure that kind of trouble far outweighs any benefit anyone could get from loving me.  It is only by the grace of God that any of us are loved. We can't really do anything to earn it.  I understand that human beings are just not capable of giving one another the kind of grace God shows towards us.  It isn't easy for us to love in spite of the obstacles.  It feels far safer to shield ourselves from pain; even to consciously work at not loving someone in order to protect ourselves.

I know I will probably never get a return on the investment, but love is important to me.  Even if I can't get it, I feel more whole when I can give it.  Maybe that makes me weak.  Maybe it makes me pathetic.  I really don't know how it makes other people perceive me, and it really doesn't matter.  At the end of my life, all that will matter is how I invested the good God gave me.  I'm grateful for the ability to love. I am learning to love without expectation.  I'm learning to give without hoping to receive.  I'm learning to be my own companion.

I have a long way to go.  Disappointment creeps up on me still. I still want too much from people at times.  This is just a journey without a destination--it isn't a race.  I know I'll never arrive, but for once, the most important part is not where I will end up.  It's the trip.

I'm bracing myself for one wild ride.