The Unbearable Lightness of Being One

Change is on the wind that blows from the north through my window and occasionally makes my door slam with an almighty crash that shudders throughout the house and most likely disturbs the mice in the ceiling in their nocturnal slumber and the dog from his mostly diurnal kips making him bark, or just wuffle at the imagined intruder while still half asleep...
Once again I am one, without another one to make a two that is really a One, but a larger One than the one referred to in the first instance.

For the longest time I lived as a one, content and ignorant of the lack a simple one has when compared to the completeness a One enjoys. And enjoy it I did for an all too brief time, but it seems the Gods called foul and I was given a red card from the spiteful heavens, bitter that they can only watch like the kid that didnt get picked for Peter Pan and has to be a pirate instead. (mixing metaphors here)

So again I am a one, thriving in the grey pall, exulting in the now known palpable deficiencies of the one because when the winds of change blow yet again I will enjoy the One that little bit more.
It seems I am a masochist, as, assuming history still repeats itself, this vaunted change will not occur again for an age, (Age: a particular period of history, as distinguished from others; a historical epoch, history in this case being the history of me, of course*).

Not for lack of trying! No!
The problem is that my interest in film makes up all my childhood education on how relationships begin and it seems these circumstances do not occur as often or as easily as portrayed in Garden State, 500 Days of Summer, Stardust, Aladdin (and many more plausable examples of human interaction) and yet, being the rather hopeless, hopeful romantic I think I am, I cling to these portrayals like a chipmunk on a gangplank in highseas on Sunday

So I wait, like cupid in a bear suit, for a worthy one to approach my hide and the wind of change to rise at the right time before I let my arrow fly to make us a One.

In the meantime, I deal with the stink of dead bear and the lonely boredom of oneness.

It aint too bad, I do get a freakin' bearsuit.