Regret

There's been a development with the lot of land that I must share. 12 bloody hours before I was to sign escrow papers, a big lead balloon was dropped. While the county says it intends to build the road/sewer to develop that last row of houses, the Cayucos Board objects due to watershed. It all sounded like a lot of BS to me-- less about actual environmental concerns and more about personal interests. It's shaping up to be a battle for the next few years, one that my trusted real estate agent urged me against getting involved in.

So regretfully (and this is not the regret I'd originally intended to blog about) I've had to withdraw my offer. I should get all of the earnest money back. I feel badly for the sellers and their agent (whom I adore, she's so sweet). I'm trying to convince myself that this is good that it came up before I was too far down the rabbit hole but still it sucks to get that excited about something only for the carpet to be pulled out from under you. I was really excited.

As to the original intention of this entry regarding regret, I was watching something on TV, I can't recall what but a line from it has made me thoughtful this week:

"Men regret the women they didn't sleep with. Women regret the men they did."

Overall I spend very little time on regret. It's a fruitless endeavor. However the times that regret does enter my mind I'm not with my gender on this one. I don't regret the men I have been with. I regret the men I wanted to sleep with, had an opportunity present itself, and for whatever reason did not do the deed. The instances where there were  good reasons, I'm assured I did the right thing and thus those are forgettable. But there have also been stupid reasons, like my own fear, that I do regret. Deeply. Those are the ones that pop up in dreams, in unconscious desire. At month 15 of celibacy it's difficult to not let those regrets float to the surface from time to time. I have no idea what the remedy is either.