Give and Take (the Universe is Still in Charge).

There's an undeniable ebb and flow to life. It's inevitable that for every morsel of good fortune that's bestowed upon you that the universe will sacrifice something else without your permission. You get a promotion at work but you gain twenty pounds. You and your parents are getting along swimmingly but your best friend isn't talking to you. Britney is making a comeback but Madonna's getting a divorce. It's the circle of life.

The holidays have a way of reminding us all of our blessings. But they also serve as a powerful kick in the teeth to everything in life that we've lost. Thanksgiving this year for me was a double-edged sword. I spent the day with my closest friends in Chicago and had warm and fuzzy conversations on the telephone with family and friends back home. Yet the mental stock I took regarding the wonderful people I am fortunate enough to have in my life got swept back when naturally I considered the flip side to keeping such great company. I couldn't stop wondering about one person in particular that was around for a few short months and now is as much of a presence in my life as a full head of hair or the ability to responsibly manage my money (read: not present whatsoever).

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I don't know what smart scientist guy said that or what exactly he was referencing. But I do know that in a cosmic sense nothing is more true than the fact that for everything in life that makes us feel great there is going to be something else that makes us feel like sh*t. The sh*t factor (as I like to call it) is the equal and opposite reaction of all things comforting and wonderful. Lately, my sh*t factor has been an overwhelming urge to dissect the circumstances behind this person's no longer being in my life and a nagging and irresolvable interest to know where the hell he is and what the hell he's doing.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I date. A lot. If you happen to be a friend of mine who I only speak to a few times a year, the safe assumption is that whomever I was dating the last time we spoke will not be around the next time we meet up for cocktails. It's a total issue of quantity over quality, a numbers game, a hope that if I continually keep myself out there that this exhausting effort called dating will finally pay off. I can generally pin point the breaking point as to why each brief relationship ends. Since January, I have the following causes:

- I didn't really like the guy and when he broke up with me via text I put forth absolutely no effort in pleading my case.
- I saddled up to someone who eventually confessed that he enjoys the chase more than the catch and that he was bored with me.
- I had to break up with a guy because he talked so much that he sucked the air out of every room he went into.
- I broke up with a guy in recovery for a meth addiction because I grew tired of playing second fiddle to his meetings schedule.
- One guy called our time short by announcing via his Facebook profile that he was now "in a relationship," obviously not with me.
- And most recently, a casual potential relationship ended when the guy took an overwhelming liking to an acquaintance of mine at 2AM in a bar. In front of me.

But with him, the push to my pull, I don't know when exactly things went to the zone of broken beyond repair. I'm sure all the fault was mine. My behavior towards him was sporadic and could've easily been translated into shady. I was scared as hell. I felt such a draw towards him and the comfort level I felt around him had me running at levels normally reserved for couples well into their twentieth year together. I cheated on him. I lied to him. I avoided the conversation he tried to have with me about dating exclusively. I know that there's no way he could've known what all I felt for him because, simply put, I didn't show him. One day he was texting me that he had made me some CDs. The very next day he was dodging my calls. He was gone. And the situation that is my current sh*t factor was born.

The tide rushes in and the tide rushes out. I have spent the better part of the last four months getting pulled down from various highs by the ever-present thought of him. I had such a heavy longing for him in July while standing on the deck of a cruise ship sailing across the Baltic Sea that the first thing I did when I got back to Chicago was to track him down. But he had moved on. So I wasn't able to tell him how hindsight had changed me and that he was now that one thing in my life that snatches me back to surface when anything elates me. Late last summer, on a random, wild, vodka-fueled limousine ride with friends and a shirtless transsexual (undoubtedly one of the most hilarious and fun nights of my life), my thoughts of him managed to bring me to tears. The sh*t factor strikes again.

Sh*t factors keep us in check. Their purpose is to remind us all how fleeting happiness can be. I don't think that's a pessimistic outlook to have on life. I think it's a tangible approach to the reality that life is one giant scale. On one side we have the sky high moments of belonging and pride and happiness, and on the other we have the situations we regret. And when that scale's perfectly balanced, that's when we have gratitude.

I don't know how many more moments or situations in my future are going to get beaten down by the thought of him. It's a miracle that I've carried his memory as long as I have given that I'm generally the type of guy that can eradicate most of life's problems with either a good nap or a stiff drink (or both!). But it's making me not only aware of but respectful towards the ebb and flow of it all. Sh*t factors keep us from getting ahead of ourselves. They keep us from ever forgetting the true value that accompanies our moments of happiness.

It's the circle of life (que Simba).