I know it's a little late, but I had an interesting conversation with a woman over Valentines day and I wanted to share it here.
She sends me this email a couple of days before Valentines Day telling me how much she loved the holiday and that she was kind of sad she didn't have anyone to share it with. (She's a few states away otherwise my response would have been different and I would have happily kept her company).
I wrote her back telling her how much I hated Valentines day and how relieved I was to be single.
I'll explain, paraphrasing from my email response to her.
Valentines day is essentially a lose-lose proposition for guys unless they have a lot of money or an easy woman. It's the day when you have to put your wallet where your heart is. A box of chocolates and a dozen roses... that's just a start. To all the guys out there, that is a trivial offering on the alter of love. Women are intensely competitive, if you don't give her ammunition for the next morning around the water cooler you're going to be in the dog house. There are only two options, you either buy her something expensive or make some grand gesture of love... in addition to buying her something.
Women have it easy, put on something lacy and put out. Poof, guy's happy. Men are such simple creatures, so easy to please. It's much harder to please women (physically and emotionally), and men are generally too stupid to make any sense of them. So what does hallmark come up with? A holiday where men have to prove their love. Valentines Day is like an expensive puzzle where the stakes are your love life.
Her reply was immediate: What are you, nuts? Women aren't like that! Buy us a nice dinner and we're smitten!
I pointed out that she wasn't an average woman. She's the kind of woman that's been in so many bad relationships that she trembles at the simplest kindness. The kind of woman that will date a guy who doesn't pay for meals. She's the kind of woman that guys love to date around Valentines day, because she is definitely in the minority.
So I wanted to put it to the internet. Am I deluded? Or is she?
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Another Long Night
Tonight was a family night; me, our daughter, Cat and her husband, all hanging out and playing games. It was fun, we played video games, ate pizza, and let the kiddo stay up late.
What sucks though, is that I just got home at 10:30. It's too late to find people to go out with and too early to go to bed. So, here I am, browsing adult blogs and drinking Jack and Coke. It would be depress me if it weren't so commonplace.
I'll be leaving here in a few months and it seems really silly to try and strike up a relationship in that time. Most of my friends have already left and gone to their respective homes. There isn't anything left for me here, I'm ready to move on, I'm just stuck waiting for that final paycheck.
On a more positive note, I've rekindled an email relationship with an old flame from back home. I don't have her sending dirty pictures, or promising to jump me at the airport, but it should only be a matter of time.
Until then, though, I have this. I have the faceless amalgamation of adult blogs and readers. It's awfully fun to read through all the new posts, but at the same time it's a little annoying since I don't have anything really 'constructive' to add to the conversation.
The only interesting story I have has to do with the old flame. She sent me an email the other night, which I checked and read at work. A short story would be, she writes really, really well. The longer version is that she was complaining about how long it had been since she had sex, and a detailed list of her favorite things that she missed about it.
She went into a lot of detail.
So, I'm sitting there at work, suddenly with a raging hard on. I had to close the email and think pure thoughts for a good twenty minutes before I could stand up without embarrassing the other males in the room. It was either that or slip into a bathroom to relieve the pressure, but there isn't a whole lot of privacy in our bathrooms.
I had to wait until I was home and spent some serious time surfing the erotic fiction sites before I could compose myself enough to compose a response.
Like I said, she's the only promising addition to my sex life and she's thousands of miles away.
Until I get back, here I am, biding my time... sigh.
What sucks though, is that I just got home at 10:30. It's too late to find people to go out with and too early to go to bed. So, here I am, browsing adult blogs and drinking Jack and Coke. It would be depress me if it weren't so commonplace.
I'll be leaving here in a few months and it seems really silly to try and strike up a relationship in that time. Most of my friends have already left and gone to their respective homes. There isn't anything left for me here, I'm ready to move on, I'm just stuck waiting for that final paycheck.
On a more positive note, I've rekindled an email relationship with an old flame from back home. I don't have her sending dirty pictures, or promising to jump me at the airport, but it should only be a matter of time.
Until then, though, I have this. I have the faceless amalgamation of adult blogs and readers. It's awfully fun to read through all the new posts, but at the same time it's a little annoying since I don't have anything really 'constructive' to add to the conversation.
The only interesting story I have has to do with the old flame. She sent me an email the other night, which I checked and read at work. A short story would be, she writes really, really well. The longer version is that she was complaining about how long it had been since she had sex, and a detailed list of her favorite things that she missed about it.
She went into a lot of detail.
So, I'm sitting there at work, suddenly with a raging hard on. I had to close the email and think pure thoughts for a good twenty minutes before I could stand up without embarrassing the other males in the room. It was either that or slip into a bathroom to relieve the pressure, but there isn't a whole lot of privacy in our bathrooms.
I had to wait until I was home and spent some serious time surfing the erotic fiction sites before I could compose myself enough to compose a response.
Like I said, she's the only promising addition to my sex life and she's thousands of miles away.
Until I get back, here I am, biding my time... sigh.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Slipping
I've been having a rough couple of months. At this point it's all academic, doesn't really matter, but it's been bothering me enough that I really want to work it through in my own head (ie. by writing about).
So, a couple months ago I get called in to the Big Man's office. Everybody was getting called in, one by one, to be notified of the personnel cuts they were making. I wasn't really worried about it because they were only cutting a few people and I had the highest review numbers of anybody I worked with. So, I was pretty shocked when I was told they were letting me go in six months.
That messed me up pretty bad for a couple days. I had excellent marks, put gallons of blood, sweat, and tears into the firm, ten years of hard work, and I was getting fired (in six months). Hell, I was almost half way to retirement. Which is why they decided to cut me in the first place. We figured out that they were cutting all the middle managers so that we couldn't stick around until retirement, shaving thousands off the bottom line.
A week ago I get called back in to the Big Man's office. It seems they decided to cut too many of us at the same time. They needed someone to stay and help the transition. They were offering me quite a bit of money to extend my employment three months past the deadline. I was still fired, unquestionably, but if I sucked it up for a few extra months there was a big payoff.
My initial reaction was a polite "fuck off". If they didn't want me working here than I didn't want to be here. What was the point? I didn't NEED the money and I felt like they'd already taken as much of my soul as I could forgive.
However, I went and talked with Cat about it. When my employment runs out I plan on moving, there just aren't enough positions around here to justify my staying, so I wanted her opinion on the whole thing. She vehemently told me to accept the extension. I politely told her to "fuck off". She vehemently encouraged me to at least run all the figures and see how much the bonus was really worth.
So I did. It came out to almost six months of my salary on top of actually getting my salary for those three months. So nine months of pay for three months more working. That was a little harder to brush off.
I went back in this week and told the Big Man that I'd accept the extension. I don't NEED the money, don't want the work, but it would give me a lot more flexibility until I find a better job.
Maybe all of this sounds like the whining of a little bitch, there are plenty of people out there worse off than me. There are probably a lot of them that would jump at an opportunity like this. But psychologically, this whole situation has been totally fucking with my head.
I mean, I show up everyday to a job I never really liked, knowing that my days are numbered, and I just can't drum up any motivation to actually do my job. It's like showing up, finding out what the bare minimum is that I need to accomplish, doing that little bit, and then sitting around for the rest of the day humming "fuck this place". It's like purgatory, my old life is over but I can't start my new one for another eight months. I'm just taking up space, just breathing, until I can get my new life started. And I voluntarily extended the date to when I can begin again. For money. Money that I don't need. The tiny Buddhist in me cringes.
Rationally it all makes perfect sense, the time vs. money ratio is just too good to ignore, but emotionally I want to walk into Big Man's office and drop my two week notice on Monday.
So, eight more months until I can start moving on. Yippee.
So, a couple months ago I get called in to the Big Man's office. Everybody was getting called in, one by one, to be notified of the personnel cuts they were making. I wasn't really worried about it because they were only cutting a few people and I had the highest review numbers of anybody I worked with. So, I was pretty shocked when I was told they were letting me go in six months.
That messed me up pretty bad for a couple days. I had excellent marks, put gallons of blood, sweat, and tears into the firm, ten years of hard work, and I was getting fired (in six months). Hell, I was almost half way to retirement. Which is why they decided to cut me in the first place. We figured out that they were cutting all the middle managers so that we couldn't stick around until retirement, shaving thousands off the bottom line.
A week ago I get called back in to the Big Man's office. It seems they decided to cut too many of us at the same time. They needed someone to stay and help the transition. They were offering me quite a bit of money to extend my employment three months past the deadline. I was still fired, unquestionably, but if I sucked it up for a few extra months there was a big payoff.
My initial reaction was a polite "fuck off". If they didn't want me working here than I didn't want to be here. What was the point? I didn't NEED the money and I felt like they'd already taken as much of my soul as I could forgive.
However, I went and talked with Cat about it. When my employment runs out I plan on moving, there just aren't enough positions around here to justify my staying, so I wanted her opinion on the whole thing. She vehemently told me to accept the extension. I politely told her to "fuck off". She vehemently encouraged me to at least run all the figures and see how much the bonus was really worth.
So I did. It came out to almost six months of my salary on top of actually getting my salary for those three months. So nine months of pay for three months more working. That was a little harder to brush off.
I went back in this week and told the Big Man that I'd accept the extension. I don't NEED the money, don't want the work, but it would give me a lot more flexibility until I find a better job.
Maybe all of this sounds like the whining of a little bitch, there are plenty of people out there worse off than me. There are probably a lot of them that would jump at an opportunity like this. But psychologically, this whole situation has been totally fucking with my head.
I mean, I show up everyday to a job I never really liked, knowing that my days are numbered, and I just can't drum up any motivation to actually do my job. It's like showing up, finding out what the bare minimum is that I need to accomplish, doing that little bit, and then sitting around for the rest of the day humming "fuck this place". It's like purgatory, my old life is over but I can't start my new one for another eight months. I'm just taking up space, just breathing, until I can get my new life started. And I voluntarily extended the date to when I can begin again. For money. Money that I don't need. The tiny Buddhist in me cringes.
Rationally it all makes perfect sense, the time vs. money ratio is just too good to ignore, but emotionally I want to walk into Big Man's office and drop my two week notice on Monday.
So, eight more months until I can start moving on. Yippee.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
A Strange Moment
"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." --A. Einstein
So, I'm drunk and watching this stupid movie "No Strings Attached", and in the first five minutes they mention the above Albert Einstein quote. It blew my mind, not the quote itself or the ratty movie it was incorporated in, it amazed me because that was a vein of thought that I'd been having for a long time... but for totally different rationale. Or maybe the exact same rationale, who really knows or understands Albert Freakin' Einstein?
So, atoms make up absolutely everything around us. Everything. All matter is made up of these tiny particles made up almost entirely of empty space. There's the nucleus which is VERY small, surrounded by orbiting electrons, like a tiny solar system. If you look at the world at an atomic level you can't differentiate between 'living' and not living. It's all atoms, it's all mostly empty space. It's essentially an illusion that we can 'touch' something, that it has physical mass.
At that level of magnification everything is the same. It's all teeny, tiny, little particles 'bumping' into each other electromagnetically.
So, what is the difference between me and a rock? Between me and a tree? Between me and any other object, living or not? There isn't any difference at that level.
Now, I believe my combination of atoms in exactly the right configuration leads to 'me', something I choose to believe is significant. If I am significant, that why isn't the rock significant? Why isn't the tree significant? Why isn't everything significant? If I am capable of being significant then why isn't everything significant? What is the separation between significant and not?
Look at it the other way, zoom out and look at the entire galaxy... the entire universe. What significance do I have to the universe? Next to none. And the rock? The same. There is no differentiation between all of us, between everything. We're all teeny, tiny, pieces of a large system that doesn't even recognize our individuality.
Either everything has significance or nothing has significance. If I believe that I have any meaning than I have to believe that everything has meaning.
It almost demoralizes me to hear a stupid movie quoting such a significant mind, such a significant quote. "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." That's such a profound statement. Such a profound idea.
Isn't that what makes an amazing mind? The ability to recognize similarities, to summarize profound ideas into simple phrases, to communicate to the many the ideas that can change everything.
It's amazing, amazing. Despite the source.
So, I'm drunk and watching this stupid movie "No Strings Attached", and in the first five minutes they mention the above Albert Einstein quote. It blew my mind, not the quote itself or the ratty movie it was incorporated in, it amazed me because that was a vein of thought that I'd been having for a long time... but for totally different rationale. Or maybe the exact same rationale, who really knows or understands Albert Freakin' Einstein?
So, atoms make up absolutely everything around us. Everything. All matter is made up of these tiny particles made up almost entirely of empty space. There's the nucleus which is VERY small, surrounded by orbiting electrons, like a tiny solar system. If you look at the world at an atomic level you can't differentiate between 'living' and not living. It's all atoms, it's all mostly empty space. It's essentially an illusion that we can 'touch' something, that it has physical mass.
At that level of magnification everything is the same. It's all teeny, tiny, little particles 'bumping' into each other electromagnetically.
So, what is the difference between me and a rock? Between me and a tree? Between me and any other object, living or not? There isn't any difference at that level.
Now, I believe my combination of atoms in exactly the right configuration leads to 'me', something I choose to believe is significant. If I am significant, that why isn't the rock significant? Why isn't the tree significant? Why isn't everything significant? If I am capable of being significant then why isn't everything significant? What is the separation between significant and not?
Look at it the other way, zoom out and look at the entire galaxy... the entire universe. What significance do I have to the universe? Next to none. And the rock? The same. There is no differentiation between all of us, between everything. We're all teeny, tiny, pieces of a large system that doesn't even recognize our individuality.
Either everything has significance or nothing has significance. If I believe that I have any meaning than I have to believe that everything has meaning.
It almost demoralizes me to hear a stupid movie quoting such a significant mind, such a significant quote. "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." That's such a profound statement. Such a profound idea.
Isn't that what makes an amazing mind? The ability to recognize similarities, to summarize profound ideas into simple phrases, to communicate to the many the ideas that can change everything.
It's amazing, amazing. Despite the source.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Long Lost Jenn
When I came back from my trip to Asia in the beginning of the year me and Jenn started hooking up again. This was not a surprising turn as we'd been on-again off-again for a while now. I kind of got the feeling that I was her fuck-buddy in between her more 'serious' flings. I was perfectly Ok with that.
Then she kind of got weird when she found out that I had my divorce finalized. She more than hinted that she wanted to get more serious (Why Women Don't Make Sense, 5/9/11). Then all the sudden she disappeared.
She'd told me of some family issues back 'home'. Then she completely stopped emailing and calling. I didn't really press her. I sent one email a couple months ago kind of checking in, got nothing back.
Then a two nights ago I got a text from her:
"Been thinking about you, wish you were here"
We went back and forth a bit. I found out that she'd moved back 'home' because of the family issues and decided to stay. She'd met a girl... (Oh, I don't know how much you've read, but Jenn was a Lesbian when we met) Jenn was doing really good... and yet she was missing something. Apparently she was missing some dick. For a Lesbian she shows amazing dedication to my penis and it's various applications.
In this I'm being totally serious, before I met her she was a lesbian, after dating me she's back to being a lesbian... but she still flirts with me by text. I'm not nearly egotistical enough to believe she's actually 100% lesbian and I'm just that good. I'm pretty sure she's that small percentage of 'lesbians' who actually choose to be lesbian... most of the time. Or maybe that's more of a Bi-thing, I'm not totally up on the vocabulary. I truly believe that there are homosexuals who are born that way, who have no choice in how they feel, and I have no problem with that. There are others that I think choose to be homosexual, maybe they've had some bad experiences or something, but it's not necessarily hard-wired into them (I have no problem with them either). I think Jenn is one of those lesbians, who chooses it but still has the wiring to be able to suck dick like a pro and like it.
She sent me some pictures of the two of them, both are just too hot. Our back and forth flirting, she was sorry I wasn't around so I couldn't be part of a threesome. Gulp. If she wasn't 8,000 miles away I'd be on the next flight. Seriously, it'd cost an awful lot but what male fantasy wouldn't be fulfilled by a three-way with two lesbians? I mean, WTF, where do I sign up? Need the first born child? I can do that.
If nothing else, chatting with her totally made my night. And you never know... I might just end up in that neighborhood sometime soon. ;)
Then she kind of got weird when she found out that I had my divorce finalized. She more than hinted that she wanted to get more serious (Why Women Don't Make Sense, 5/9/11). Then all the sudden she disappeared.
She'd told me of some family issues back 'home'. Then she completely stopped emailing and calling. I didn't really press her. I sent one email a couple months ago kind of checking in, got nothing back.
Then a two nights ago I got a text from her:
"Been thinking about you, wish you were here"
We went back and forth a bit. I found out that she'd moved back 'home' because of the family issues and decided to stay. She'd met a girl... (Oh, I don't know how much you've read, but Jenn was a Lesbian when we met) Jenn was doing really good... and yet she was missing something. Apparently she was missing some dick. For a Lesbian she shows amazing dedication to my penis and it's various applications.
In this I'm being totally serious, before I met her she was a lesbian, after dating me she's back to being a lesbian... but she still flirts with me by text. I'm not nearly egotistical enough to believe she's actually 100% lesbian and I'm just that good. I'm pretty sure she's that small percentage of 'lesbians' who actually choose to be lesbian... most of the time. Or maybe that's more of a Bi-thing, I'm not totally up on the vocabulary. I truly believe that there are homosexuals who are born that way, who have no choice in how they feel, and I have no problem with that. There are others that I think choose to be homosexual, maybe they've had some bad experiences or something, but it's not necessarily hard-wired into them (I have no problem with them either). I think Jenn is one of those lesbians, who chooses it but still has the wiring to be able to suck dick like a pro and like it.
She sent me some pictures of the two of them, both are just too hot. Our back and forth flirting, she was sorry I wasn't around so I couldn't be part of a threesome. Gulp. If she wasn't 8,000 miles away I'd be on the next flight. Seriously, it'd cost an awful lot but what male fantasy wouldn't be fulfilled by a three-way with two lesbians? I mean, WTF, where do I sign up? Need the first born child? I can do that.
If nothing else, chatting with her totally made my night. And you never know... I might just end up in that neighborhood sometime soon. ;)
Sunday, December 18, 2011
A Little Growing Up, a Lot of Backstory
I hesitate to say that I'm growing up, I don't feel like I've done much 'growing up' since I was about fourteen, but I think I'm learning how to be a better 'adult'. Of course, my example for this is somewhat selfish so take it with a grain of salt. Of course, anyone who reads this blog probably keeps a bucket of it next to the keyboard.
I had an interesting thought in the shower this morning (unfortunately it wasn't the one about Kate Beckinsale). I'd woken up still utterly drunk from the night before and with one of the worst hangovers I've ever had. I crawled from bed to the bathroom, clawed my way into the shower, turned on the hot water, and sat there for an hour. During this long re-hydration period I had some time to kill and, as it usually does during periods that lack distraction, my brain went into a drunken (remember, I was still plastered) hyperdrive.
One of the multitude of topics that came up for internal discussion was Kelly, a girl I dated a couple months ago. It'd only lasted two weeks before I broke it off but there were some interesting correlations between Kelly and Cat. Both had really similar personalities, had similar interests, similar independence, similar ages, similar 'appetites'... One I married for 9 years and the other I dumped after two weeks. So my question was, what was the difference?
I poured over it in my brain until I came up with a slightly scary answer: I was growing up, making better decisions (ie. not with my dick).
When I was 21 and I married Cat I was something of a wayward youth. I'd been into a lot of drugs (had just quit when I re-met Cat), dropped out of College, and was working as a Delivery Boy with no better prospects. I was damaged goods, at least in my own head. The only women I dated were also damaged in one way or another, Cat was no exception, they were the only women that I felt I deserved.
So, I dated women who'd just gotten out of abusive relationships- I'd be shoulder to cry on. I dated women with confidence issues, I dated women with emotional issues... I never realized it at the time but my subconscious must have thought I would find some sort of redemption in women that I could 'fix'. I would lose myself in their issues and these relationships would drag on and on because I'd become their therapist/boyfriend and it would have totally devastated them if I left.
I got really used to putting myself aside, putting my goals, putting my issues, putting my life to the side and focusing on what they needed. I probably saw myself as some sort of good Samaritan but all of my own self-worth issues were eating me up inside.
Cat was basically bipolar, among a whole host of other problems caused by the swings. When she was up she was totally amazing, one of the best people I've ever known, but when she was down it was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen. She needed a rock to lean against and I needed someone to 'fix' to distract me from myself. We were perfect for each other.
We got married, I joined the military to get out of town and get some prospects. I continued doing what I always did, I swallowed all of my own feelings and focused on her. There were some rough years.
Eventually we figured out that Cat wasn't bipolar, she was allergic to various foods. Not allergic in the violent, going into anaphylactic shock way, but the getting headaches, bloating, depression kind of way. We fixed her diet and things got a lot better. Or at least SHE got a lot better.
Then we realized that we'd grown apart. We'd had these mutual deficiencies as a basis for our relationship, her deficiency went away and she was stuck with a lazy, feel-sorry-for-himself asshole ("I'd given up everything for her" and I never let her forget it). So she wanted to separate, and I got really, really bitter. Here was this woman who I'd dedicated myself to helping, giving up everything for so long for, and as soon as she felt better she wanted out. Yeah, that bitterness didn't help anything between us. There were some really bad years, we were too broke to move away from each other, too broke to divorce, and we had a kid.
A couple years later, our finances a bit better, I was on the verge of a couple month long business trip, she told me she wanted a divorce when I got back. I went into a bit of shock, (I was blogging at that point, "Long, Long Time" 5/15/11). It was one thing to talk about Divorce, a whole other thing to actually DO it.
At that point I was a bundle of issues myself, no self-confidence (couldn't keep a wife), depressed, overweight, hated my job, and was angry at the world. Probably the only thing that saved me from myself was picking up a book on Buddhism.
I should say this, I've always been interested in Eastern religions, they actually make me think. I see Christianity as basically "Morals for Dummies", if you already have the morals to not kill somebody, and to treat others the way you want to be treated, what else is it going to teach you? Buddhism, on the other hand, is like philosophy. It asks questions, it interprets different perspectives, it will really make somebody look at their life and decisions critically. Why do you feel a certain way? What was the basis for that? What was the cause? How can you change it?
Unfortunately, I don't remember the specific passage, but there was one day that I was reading and it totally blew my mind... I was the root cause of all my problems.
For someone else, that might not have been a revelation but for years I'd been blaming Cat, blaming work, blaming the world (some pretty shitty unlucky stuff had happened to us), all these things that I had no control over. I saw myself as the the victim of a cruel, cruel fate. Then there's this book that says you're full of shit, stop being a dumbass and life will get better. And it was right.
Almost overnight I took responsibility for myself. Fate, the world, luck, things completely out of our control, whatever you call it, can definitely fuck with your life, but how you deal with it is totally up to you. You can accept the things you can't change and move on. And 90% of the things that happen to us we DO have some direct control over.
So for the past couple of years I've been a much more whole person. All of my relationships with friends and family have gotten better, work has gotten better, my life has gotten better.
And along comes Kelly. She's smart, funny, energetic, and extremely outgoing. We had a blast together. Our first date was probably the best first date I've ever had. I'm a pretty reserved person when I first meet someone but she totally blew through my walls and made me open up. She really reminded me of Cat during the good times, without any of Cat's bad times. In short, she seemed perfect.
But over the next two weeks it became obvious to me that she took no responsibility for her life. She was constantly complaining about the bad things that happened to her, but made no effort to improve her situations. It was like she was so focused on each moment that she didn't put any thought into the next moment or the costs.
There was one night she stayed over. I didn't have to get up the next morning so I asked her if she wanted me to set an alarm. She said no. Then we wake up the next morning and she panics because she's running late for an appointment, fucks my brains out, then continues to panic because now she's even more late.
And that's just one example, I could probably think of at least another dozen in the two weeks we dated.
Ten years ago she would have been the perfect woman for me, a blast to be with and still have something to 'fix'. Now, I recognize that I can't change others, they have to want to and make the change themselves. And I deserve better.
Wow, it's almost hard to write that. I deserve better. I deserve someone who's a blast to be with and has their shit together. Ten years ago I was telling myself that I deserved worse, that if a girl gave me the time of day than I fell in love because she was better than I deserved.
All those thoughts running through my drunken brain this morning and I realize that I'm growing up (a little late, I know). It's a little odd that for this lesson growing up is about becoming more selfish (and a growing feeling of self-worth), but maybe that's the lesson I'm supposed to learn in this reincarnation. ;)
I had an interesting thought in the shower this morning (unfortunately it wasn't the one about Kate Beckinsale). I'd woken up still utterly drunk from the night before and with one of the worst hangovers I've ever had. I crawled from bed to the bathroom, clawed my way into the shower, turned on the hot water, and sat there for an hour. During this long re-hydration period I had some time to kill and, as it usually does during periods that lack distraction, my brain went into a drunken (remember, I was still plastered) hyperdrive.
One of the multitude of topics that came up for internal discussion was Kelly, a girl I dated a couple months ago. It'd only lasted two weeks before I broke it off but there were some interesting correlations between Kelly and Cat. Both had really similar personalities, had similar interests, similar independence, similar ages, similar 'appetites'... One I married for 9 years and the other I dumped after two weeks. So my question was, what was the difference?
I poured over it in my brain until I came up with a slightly scary answer: I was growing up, making better decisions (ie. not with my dick).
When I was 21 and I married Cat I was something of a wayward youth. I'd been into a lot of drugs (had just quit when I re-met Cat), dropped out of College, and was working as a Delivery Boy with no better prospects. I was damaged goods, at least in my own head. The only women I dated were also damaged in one way or another, Cat was no exception, they were the only women that I felt I deserved.
So, I dated women who'd just gotten out of abusive relationships- I'd be shoulder to cry on. I dated women with confidence issues, I dated women with emotional issues... I never realized it at the time but my subconscious must have thought I would find some sort of redemption in women that I could 'fix'. I would lose myself in their issues and these relationships would drag on and on because I'd become their therapist/boyfriend and it would have totally devastated them if I left.
I got really used to putting myself aside, putting my goals, putting my issues, putting my life to the side and focusing on what they needed. I probably saw myself as some sort of good Samaritan but all of my own self-worth issues were eating me up inside.
Cat was basically bipolar, among a whole host of other problems caused by the swings. When she was up she was totally amazing, one of the best people I've ever known, but when she was down it was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen. She needed a rock to lean against and I needed someone to 'fix' to distract me from myself. We were perfect for each other.
We got married, I joined the military to get out of town and get some prospects. I continued doing what I always did, I swallowed all of my own feelings and focused on her. There were some rough years.
Eventually we figured out that Cat wasn't bipolar, she was allergic to various foods. Not allergic in the violent, going into anaphylactic shock way, but the getting headaches, bloating, depression kind of way. We fixed her diet and things got a lot better. Or at least SHE got a lot better.
Then we realized that we'd grown apart. We'd had these mutual deficiencies as a basis for our relationship, her deficiency went away and she was stuck with a lazy, feel-sorry-for-himself asshole ("I'd given up everything for her" and I never let her forget it). So she wanted to separate, and I got really, really bitter. Here was this woman who I'd dedicated myself to helping, giving up everything for so long for, and as soon as she felt better she wanted out. Yeah, that bitterness didn't help anything between us. There were some really bad years, we were too broke to move away from each other, too broke to divorce, and we had a kid.
A couple years later, our finances a bit better, I was on the verge of a couple month long business trip, she told me she wanted a divorce when I got back. I went into a bit of shock, (I was blogging at that point, "Long, Long Time" 5/15/11). It was one thing to talk about Divorce, a whole other thing to actually DO it.
At that point I was a bundle of issues myself, no self-confidence (couldn't keep a wife), depressed, overweight, hated my job, and was angry at the world. Probably the only thing that saved me from myself was picking up a book on Buddhism.
I should say this, I've always been interested in Eastern religions, they actually make me think. I see Christianity as basically "Morals for Dummies", if you already have the morals to not kill somebody, and to treat others the way you want to be treated, what else is it going to teach you? Buddhism, on the other hand, is like philosophy. It asks questions, it interprets different perspectives, it will really make somebody look at their life and decisions critically. Why do you feel a certain way? What was the basis for that? What was the cause? How can you change it?
Unfortunately, I don't remember the specific passage, but there was one day that I was reading and it totally blew my mind... I was the root cause of all my problems.
For someone else, that might not have been a revelation but for years I'd been blaming Cat, blaming work, blaming the world (some pretty shitty unlucky stuff had happened to us), all these things that I had no control over. I saw myself as the the victim of a cruel, cruel fate. Then there's this book that says you're full of shit, stop being a dumbass and life will get better. And it was right.
Almost overnight I took responsibility for myself. Fate, the world, luck, things completely out of our control, whatever you call it, can definitely fuck with your life, but how you deal with it is totally up to you. You can accept the things you can't change and move on. And 90% of the things that happen to us we DO have some direct control over.
So for the past couple of years I've been a much more whole person. All of my relationships with friends and family have gotten better, work has gotten better, my life has gotten better.
And along comes Kelly. She's smart, funny, energetic, and extremely outgoing. We had a blast together. Our first date was probably the best first date I've ever had. I'm a pretty reserved person when I first meet someone but she totally blew through my walls and made me open up. She really reminded me of Cat during the good times, without any of Cat's bad times. In short, she seemed perfect.
But over the next two weeks it became obvious to me that she took no responsibility for her life. She was constantly complaining about the bad things that happened to her, but made no effort to improve her situations. It was like she was so focused on each moment that she didn't put any thought into the next moment or the costs.
There was one night she stayed over. I didn't have to get up the next morning so I asked her if she wanted me to set an alarm. She said no. Then we wake up the next morning and she panics because she's running late for an appointment, fucks my brains out, then continues to panic because now she's even more late.
And that's just one example, I could probably think of at least another dozen in the two weeks we dated.
Ten years ago she would have been the perfect woman for me, a blast to be with and still have something to 'fix'. Now, I recognize that I can't change others, they have to want to and make the change themselves. And I deserve better.
Wow, it's almost hard to write that. I deserve better. I deserve someone who's a blast to be with and has their shit together. Ten years ago I was telling myself that I deserved worse, that if a girl gave me the time of day than I fell in love because she was better than I deserved.
All those thoughts running through my drunken brain this morning and I realize that I'm growing up (a little late, I know). It's a little odd that for this lesson growing up is about becoming more selfish (and a growing feeling of self-worth), but maybe that's the lesson I'm supposed to learn in this reincarnation. ;)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
A Valuable Waste of Time pt2
So, after realizing that I didn't want to share absolutely EVERYthing with any-FUCKING-one I starting trying to figure out my boundaries. If I'm not willing to share everything all the time than what are my limits, what are the "you shall not pass" lines?
This is what I've figure out:
I don't want to live with someone else. Period. I don't care if you're the virgin sex god of the fucking planet and will obey my every desire... I don't want you moving in. I need my own space. After having NO personal space for the last... several decades... I can't do it any more. This is my space, I do what I want here, I decorate it (or not) however the fuck I want to, I can lock the door if I feel like it... Yeah, it's MY place. Period.
[A side note: I do miss sleeping next to someone... sometimes. That was always a comforting thing, to have someone to wrap myself around and fall asleep, or to be asleep and have a beautiful woman crawl into bed and snuggle up. Other times, when I can stretch out and don't have to share the covers... it's nice to have my own bed.]
I will not put up with anyone who needs a status update every fifteen minutes. I'm sorry, it's my fucking life, I'll share it if and when I choose to and that's it. That's always been a pet peeve of mine. If you haven't heard from me in a couple hours, BIG FUCKING DEAL, I'm probably busy or have nothing to say.
So, in summary, what I really want is a long term, part-time girlfriend. Seriously, if I could have a girlfriend for say, 3-4 days a week, I'd be absolutely happy. Anything more than that and I'd start getting that 'cornered animal' vibe in the back of my brain. When it's her off day than I don't hear from her, she doesn't poke her nose into what I'm doing and I return the favor. She can sleep over on her 'on' days but I wouldn't be offended if she chose not to. Two completely separate lives that come together a few times a week. And if, for some reason, a day needs to be re-scheduled DON'T FREAK OUT, I'm not cheating- something just came up.
I write all this, not only to amuse myself, but to express things that I believe many people feel. I'm not that original, if I'm feeling this way than I'm sure many other people are too. However, I also see that our society is not built for these kinds of relationships and most women probably wouldn't be interested in this kind of semi-commitment (unless it was on the side of their committed relationship).
Which brings me to my final point, I've never really been a fan of prostitution but I'm beginning to understand it's appeal. This 'ideal' relationship of mine is basically that of a classic Man to Mistress, both have individual lives and 'date' each other long term. Since most women probably wouldn't be interested in a semi-committed, long term relationship without monetary incentive, as with classical mistresses, this ideal relationship could almost be seen as a form of prostitution. I have a feeling most guys would be willing to invest some cash to have a relationship that follows these guide lines.
After all, as the old saying goes, you don't pay a prostitute for sex, you pay her to leave.
Women, keep that in mind the next time you're bugging your man.
This is what I've figure out:
I don't want to live with someone else. Period. I don't care if you're the virgin sex god of the fucking planet and will obey my every desire... I don't want you moving in. I need my own space. After having NO personal space for the last... several decades... I can't do it any more. This is my space, I do what I want here, I decorate it (or not) however the fuck I want to, I can lock the door if I feel like it... Yeah, it's MY place. Period.
[A side note: I do miss sleeping next to someone... sometimes. That was always a comforting thing, to have someone to wrap myself around and fall asleep, or to be asleep and have a beautiful woman crawl into bed and snuggle up. Other times, when I can stretch out and don't have to share the covers... it's nice to have my own bed.]
I will not put up with anyone who needs a status update every fifteen minutes. I'm sorry, it's my fucking life, I'll share it if and when I choose to and that's it. That's always been a pet peeve of mine. If you haven't heard from me in a couple hours, BIG FUCKING DEAL, I'm probably busy or have nothing to say.
So, in summary, what I really want is a long term, part-time girlfriend. Seriously, if I could have a girlfriend for say, 3-4 days a week, I'd be absolutely happy. Anything more than that and I'd start getting that 'cornered animal' vibe in the back of my brain. When it's her off day than I don't hear from her, she doesn't poke her nose into what I'm doing and I return the favor. She can sleep over on her 'on' days but I wouldn't be offended if she chose not to. Two completely separate lives that come together a few times a week. And if, for some reason, a day needs to be re-scheduled DON'T FREAK OUT, I'm not cheating- something just came up.
I write all this, not only to amuse myself, but to express things that I believe many people feel. I'm not that original, if I'm feeling this way than I'm sure many other people are too. However, I also see that our society is not built for these kinds of relationships and most women probably wouldn't be interested in this kind of semi-commitment (unless it was on the side of their committed relationship).
Which brings me to my final point, I've never really been a fan of prostitution but I'm beginning to understand it's appeal. This 'ideal' relationship of mine is basically that of a classic Man to Mistress, both have individual lives and 'date' each other long term. Since most women probably wouldn't be interested in a semi-committed, long term relationship without monetary incentive, as with classical mistresses, this ideal relationship could almost be seen as a form of prostitution. I have a feeling most guys would be willing to invest some cash to have a relationship that follows these guide lines.
After all, as the old saying goes, you don't pay a prostitute for sex, you pay her to leave.
Women, keep that in mind the next time you're bugging your man.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
