The Average Man November 18, 2009

I have dated great men. I have dated sub-par men. I have dated the fantastic and I have dated the average. Most recently it is the average man that seems to preoccupy my musings. Not that I am unhappy or lonely or missing the sweet mediocre loving. In fact I am satisfied with where I am; personally, sexually, and socially. I don’t need him but for some odd reason, I do miss him.

The average man made no sense for me. He and I shared very little in our interests or lives and yet we were drawn to one another. I don’t understand it and thankfully I won’t ever have to do that. Unfortunately I will need to get to the bottom of why he keeps popping into my head when all I want to do is move on and forget him. I can’t say that I didn’t love him, him and his lame if not semi-fantastic group of friends. I loved that man for so many “god-only-knows” reasons. I stopped loving him for the same, and maybe that’s the part that isn’t true.

I didn’t stop loving him, he stopped loving me. The average man who really should have been thanking God, Allah and the cracker jack company for getting my attention and for dating me decided he didn’t love me anymore. A month later, he changed his mind, realized he loved me and that I was perfect but I had already moved on.

I moved on but I did not let go of the anger or resentment I felt for him choosing someone, something else or other than me to make him happy. Sure he came crawling back to beg forgiveness, blah blah blah. Ever notice how chivalry is completely dead until a man wants something from you? Typically this is sex, other times it’s a free meal. Trust me. Either way he had a lot of really profound, powerful and inspiring things to say. Things that I was quite proud, relieved, and happy to hear – still not enough to convince me to take him back. Unfortunately, I felt what he wanted was another easy lay and to continue the fucked up together not together dance.

Whether that was the honest truth or not, I’ll never know I suppose. I do know that he wanted what I could no longer give him. The average man waited too long and I had met a man, a man that is all the things he wasn’t and will most likely never be. The man I am with is extraordinary.

Capital – O – Other November 18, 2009

I’m dating a new guy and I feel as if he’s trying to own me. To belong in my life or to become so entrenched in my day to day living that I am incapable of existing without him. What is it about me that brings out the batty in men?

 

They are independent, free thinking and competent people. They excel in professional careers, sports, and in competitive conversations and yet they fall to pieces with me. They want me to coddle them, hold them, love them. As if it’s suddenly my job to make it better, nurse wounds, and be everything. I have to be with them, for them, and somewhere they can hide.

 

I don’t know why it is, I don’t know how it happens. I just know that it drives me crazy. I need space; I need the freedom to freak out on my own. The opportunity to spend my time doing nothing and being alone is not a luxury, it is a requirement.

 

I typically seek out partners who initially do not require constant affirmation. I appreciate individuals who are capable of creating, building, and living a life on their own – read, without me.

 

I don’t want to be someone’s everything. I want to be the partner, the better half but definitely capital O – Other. I do not want to be just an extension of you, to be the only female semblance in your life. I want to be a column in the arcade not the shingles. It’s as though men loose themselves in me. And it’s not fair, I already have have a Me. I want to be there but I don’t want to be all there is, I need to miss a man to appreciate when he’s here.

The Glories of Love January 12, 2009

It is as if I have finally found a refreshing drink after years of searching waterless beaches. I have sought a dream in my nights and in my waking. Searching for a man that could be all I was and more than that, all that I would be someday. Things such as power and greatness are illusive and artificial. Love is a solid substance, palpable and delicious. A musky emotion you can absorb or be buried by first. It is dangerous because of its unknown depths and strength over our wills.

When we do not have love or live with loving ferocity we strive for goals that seem as satisfying but are weaker and less fulfilling. The desire for recognition and power is empty. It is a temporary escape from our true acknowledgement of self. We want others to only know our victories and our strengths. In this way we release our selfish desire to see only the good in ourselves. As we strive to project that image into the minds of others, we loose sight of who we really are. We lie to ourselves and each other, loosing grasp of our personal realities.

We walk out of Eden for a shot a lies and the temporary glories we imagine will make us gods. As we walk towards the fake light and the false intimacy, we forget the garden. The gate locks behind us but we do not hear the click as we seek to define ourselves by our presumed narcissistic glory. The sound of applause overwhelms and blasts louder than the quiet beckoning of our true personal glory. Acclaim like the fruit of the tree of wisdom is not ours for the taking and yet our hands are not stayed despite this warning. And yet somehow with unpredictable accuracy love removes this delusion.

The hidden treasure of love returned, seeking our true selves reflected in the eyes of another person seems like a utopian fantasy. Until we see it for the first time and it is as if the gates have reopened. Our hope is renewed and for those terrifying moments we are glorified yet by our own splendor because that which is most horrible, hidden from all others is still in us and yet this other person loves us anyway. They see what is god-like in us and for some reason that new perspective refreshes and fulfills our dreams of greatness. We see power and prestige knowingly as shallow mirages. We begin to present ourselves honestly without suggesting that there is anything to hide. We learn to see ourselves as our lover sees us; flawed, imperfect and glorious.

Seriously… November 25, 2008

I am strong, independent, accomplished, professional, and responsible. I will not back down from an argument, a confrontation, or if I really want something. I can handle myself and my business. And yet in my life I seek out and attach myself to people and relationships that require me to be anything but these things. I am what is colloquially referred to as, a push over.

I dated this guy Jerry a year ago for about three blissful months. Seriously, text book romance. He had all of the characteristics I am looking for and was the first person I have met who couldn’t wait to see me. After ending things with a man I dated for four years, demanding that I be the one to make all the sacrifices, this was the relationship that brought me back. The man who showed me that the phrase, “there’s better out there” was true. I was never insecure with him. He could be the life of the party, surrounded by women, and I never felt threatened. I felt like I could trust Jerry because he had never proven to me that I couldn’t.

Unfortunately, around three months in, he started flipping between Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. He’d stop calling or explain he needed more time with his friends. I laughed when he broke up with me and then again a week later when he called to apologize and asked to see me again. We played this game for a year where we pretended we were “friends”. We were great at dating and it was absolutely the best sex I have ever had. It could have been him, it could have been our dynamic, but I’m tempted to put it on the feeling of doing something we shouldn’t be. The danger that he wouldn’t be around in a week was intoxicating. The freedom to be wild and in the moment together made our relationship exciting. If he didn’t call or was a total dick to me in front of my friends, I’d make excuses because when it was just the two of us, it was amazing. We could laugh and have fun but we could also really talk. It wasn’t until he started volunteering for the boyfriend stuff and then bailing that I realized how the situation had spiraled out of control. I needed my friends to look critically at the situation and tell me to get out.

I had been dodging his calls for a month, hoping they would taper off but when they picked up in frequency, I realized I would have to say something to him. The problem was that I knew when I called I would be talking to Dr. Jeckyl and he would be sweet, apologetic and understanding. I would not deal with Mr. Hyde until he really thought it was over. Because it was all part of our dance, to say I never want to see you again, don’t call me, to storm out of parties, to yell and make up. We’ve always made up and that part is fantastic. I would have to be strong enough to forgo all of that and explain that I was serious, it had to stop. I deserve something better and I wasn’t going to find it in bed with him.

It was a Sunday afternoon two months ago that I called and said officially that I wish him nothing but the best. I apologized for going back on my word in the past but this time I meant it. We obviously can’t be friends and I’m sorry but I can’t see you anymore and you have to stop calling me. I haven’t heard from him since. Unfortunately, just because you make room in your life does not mean someone will arrive to fill it. I have taken on excessive amounts of work, hobbies, joined clubs, spent time with friends, traveled, danced, and slept with other men. I have yet to find someone with whom I feel a similar spark. I don’t believe it doesn’t exist but the temptation to see him is always there. I have not heard from him since so I can safely keep my distance.

That changed today because Jerry’s smart, and he knows what I need to hear to justify letting him walk all over me again. The text reads, “So I know you hate me and don’t want to see me, and while I’m trying to respect that, I can’t help but want to spoon with you under the covers and watch football.” He knows I don’t hate him and that the guilt of feeling like I have hurt him will make me want to call just to say, “you know I don’t think that”. Which means I have to call and then he’ll say he knows and he’s sorry for bothering me he just misses me. That’s how it starts all over again because like your typical doormat I think nothing of how much he has hurt me and instead can’t bear to think that I have hurt him. I am loyal to a fault and can’t seem to cut the cord.

The text came at 11:30AM on a Sunday. He’s not drunk and he’s very sweet on Sunday afternoons, lying in bed with his glasses on. He’s telling me he’s only not talking to me because he’s being respectful of my request. He knows I want a man who does respect what I want, who doesn’t? He also knows that if I cave he wins. Because I will say we’re only hanging out but I’m not going to fight him if he kisses me and it’s only resisting the inevitable. And though that afternoon will be fun, I have to go through the rest of the week, the rest of the month, knowing I’ve slept with someone who doesn’t want to date me.

Jerry wants the one night stand, not the home for the holidays kissing you goodnight part. He doesn’t care about me. He knows I love spooning and we share favorite football teams. These are generalizations that get me thinking about how much I love how tiny he makes me feel and how warm it is in bed on sunny fall afternoons, and then we’re just talking about being in bed together and having so much fun and before you know it it’s not just the football teams scoring.

It has taken me a year to learn that I am not ok with hanging out and hooking up. I need more than that. I need a friend, someone I can actually trust. I want Dr. Jeckyl because I could fall in love with him. He’s the one who makes my heart race and want to fold his laundry and have tea with his mother. Mr. Hyde makes me want to throw up for ever having kissed him. He makes me question why I would ever spend time with someone so shallow and completely vial. But they are one and the same, yin and yang, both the same Jerry. The same person who I absolutely despise is the one that I can’t stop talking about when we’re together. And yet it’s been a while and I wonder if he’s changed, or grown up, or figured out what it is that he needs. I hope he’s doing well and even though I’m lonely and cold and wishing I had a big spoon to snuggle with, I’m not going to respond. He’ll text again this week. He might just wear me down, but he might not. I might break away this time. It’s as if my desire to assert my independence is not as strong as my desire to play with fire. I ignore the fact that I’m compromising my values, my emotional wellbeing, and my time with someone who isn’t all the things I thought and hoped he could be for himself and for me.

This second guessing is exactly where the pushover comes out the most. Because I don’t need Jerry, but I do want him. I want the good parts and not the bad and that’s not going to happen. It’s a sick masochistic tendency to return again and again to the same person, the same flawed relationship. Men must be able to sense this weakness because even when I think I have escaped, I find another man that does not meet my needs and promptly fall for him. It’s as if I’m addicted to the pain. It’s not even the quick band-aid on arm hair pain but the long drawn out torture of getting stitches. Every time it feels like it might be done I cut through the little bits of thread that are keeping me together and re-open the wound. How do I take the scalpel away, how do I stop finding and dating men who are not good for me, how do I learn to walk away before things get so bad and start building grounded and solid relationships with men who do not want a woman they can pushover?

Love is a Volatile Phrase September 12, 2008

Love is a volatile phrase when used incorrectly. “I love him but I hate our relationship.” “His voice is the reason I get up in the morning.” “Spending so much energy on making myself inaccessible is hard.” Numerous women and men I know use expressions similar to the ones above when discussing their relationships. I can not say I haven’t been there, in that all encompassing utopia of relational bliss when you imagine flaws as strengths and truly believe you have found the proverbial “one”. Do I believe in love? Absolutely. Do I believe this is it? Hell no. When you express your feelings as contradictions of what is wrong or unsuitable in the other person, what is being described is obsession. Perhaps fear of being alone, the intensity of your lust or attraction to the other person, or simply your desire to be in a relationship lead us to express “love” when the emotion we are experiencing is more aptly recognized as obsession.

 

Obsessing and becoming consumed with another person is a dangerous position in which to place ourselves. It is not love but it takes on the properties we want to believe are there. Psychology teaches us that the brain recognizes patterns. The conscious and subconscious mind have the ability to recognize those patterns, however they will refuse to see clear patterns where they don’t want to and they will create patterns where there are none in order to preserve your concept of reality. This in turn is demonstrated by a conversation I recently had with a friend, “I love him when he’s cute and just missing me, I love him when he’s sick and calls all the time because I’m what makes him better. To be wanted and needed not because I’m a nurse or my common sense advice really makes a difference in his health but rather because I’m me and just who I am is enough to make him feel better.” Many would say that doesn’t sound particularly bad. She goes on to say, “I will hold him in my arms and just let our hearts beat together for a while. So I can play with his hair as we watch tv and I can purr sweet nothings in his ears so he’ll want to get better faster. Making him tea and toast and rubbing his back when he coughs in the night”. Some might argue it must be wonderful to have such a Florence Nightingale devoted to you in times of need. But what starts as enjoying the feeling of being needed quickly spirals into a desire for dependence.

 

I will concede that being needed is a nice feeling. It is also the first step towards dependence. Where instead of two people spending time together because they mutually enjoy the others company, one person takes on the role of caretaker. When this happens the relationship dynamic transforms from two equals, to one person being in charge or responsible for the other (not to get too Freudian with the parent-child relationship reference). The other individual can respond in one of two ways. They can accept this caretaker role in their partner and take advantage of the situation, constantly demanding more and more attention. Or, they can attempt to return the favor. Unfortunately, if one is obsessed rather than in love they do not want this favor returned. It feels good to do something kind for another person, which is why my friend wants to take care of her sick boyfriend. Not letting him take care of her in return is a huge mistake. It is denying him the opportunity to give back and feel the same joy that she does in the initial giving. When this happens the person can enjoy being treated well and not having to return the favor for a while but eventually both are left unsatisfied. My friend will wonder why he never does nice things, not realizing that she is the culprit for that situation. Her partner will not feel fulfilled in the relationship because all give and take has dissolved. As their relational patterns become routine, he will loose all sense of how to take care of her or meet her needs. If never given the opportunity to practice, how can he hope to learn?

 

There is a line between what is love and what is obsession. By taking the time to step back and observe our lives and our relationships in the big picture, we give ourselves the opportunity not only to fall in love but to be more accepting of loving relationships. Creating traps for ourselves in unions that are not suited to either our ourselves or our partners is a waste of time. Recognizing that obsession will never bring fulfilling mutual satisfaction it is best to end such masochistic bonds in order to pursue the true love that I do believe is waiting for all of us.

 

You can lead a woman to water… August 20, 2008

Friday afternoon, one of those sunny cool days when you wonder, “Why go back to work?” On the same block, there are two restaurants with outside porches. One has a patio full of women, sunglasses on, lemons in their water glasses, eating salads. The other is all men dinking beer and eating pizza. While looking back and forth, a thought occurred to me, I try to take the best of both worlds and end up in neither. This is why I’m single. You’re either on one patio or the other. You can’t have it both ways; pizza or salad, water or beer.
 
These small choices define how we are seen by the rest of the world. You’re either sophisticated or the standard. There is no salad and beer, water and pizza middle ground. Which is why as I date, I can never find the right combination. When I imagine that guy, he’s just a composition of things I like and don’t like in the men I’ve already met. Which is a fairly vague combination of makes me laugh, has more hair on his head than the rest of his appendages, actually asks how my day went, and is legally allowed to leave the state without the consent of a parole officer. Already we’re looking at salads. Pizza toppings are all over the place. It’s all mixed together with the water: sparkling, flat, flavored, vitamin, and then there’s the beer: domestic, international, microbrew. I’m overwhelmed.
 
It all comes back to the beer, water with lemon dichotomy. Here I am thinking, I want a nice water with lemon sort of guy. When in actuality, I would probably be more comfortable fighting over the last piece of pepperoni with beer guy. Which is why I’m mean to the men I date. If he’s water guy, he’s too soft. I’m constantly trying to push his buttons to see if he’ll crack. If he’s beer guy, I’m looking down on him for not being classy or romantic. Is there a guy that can do both, probably. Am I going to find him? Probably not. Because I’m too busy spending my time looking at water wishing it were beer (*I think we’ve all done this at some point…even Jesus can relate) and looking at beer wanting it to be like water. There is no mixing of the two. Which is why I will be alone until I either accept the softer tendencies of a water drinker or I admit that deep down I’m a beer and pizza sort of girl…water with lemon on the side.