The Oddest Thing She's Ever Said

There Are Two Kinds Of People In This World: Those Who Ask For Things, And Those Who Say “No” To Things.

“No” is a word I’ve never had trouble saying, so it frustrates me beyond belief when other people have difficulties with it. I’ve said “no” to bosses, to professors, to friends, to lovers, to ex-lovers, to lover’s ex-lovers, to my parents, to Italian border officials, to sales associates, to landlords, to bank personnel, to clients, to my primary care physicians. I’ve turned down “surprise” shifts, extra work, booty calls, requests to relinquish lots of things (personal freedom, Murano glass artwork, the last Lindt chocolate), unnecessary shots, and even an all-expenses-paid roadtrip out to California and back. Some of them were obviously easier to deny than others (shots, anyone? Anyone actually ACCEPT unneeded immunizations and needle jabs?), but the point being, I somehow managed to turn them all down. 

I get that we all like to make other people happy— it’s a natural human desire— but at some point, you’ve got to start putting your own wishes and desires before other people’s, otherwise, all you’ll ever be is an unhappy, overworked, underpaid doormat. If you don’t believe me, ask my mother, one of my old roommates, and some of my co-workers and classmates about this. Your personal happiness, time, and well-being are the most important things you’ve got, so DON’T just keep giving it away. I know this may sound very self-centered and only-child-ish of me, but I swear to god, this is true. If YOU are not happy, not content, and not doing what you want, how in hell do you expect to be responsible for taking care of making OTHER people happy and content? As an ex-nanny, I can tell you— unhappiness is like fear; other people can sniff it out. And if someone knows that you’re not happy— if they’re a true friend of yours, and they really care about you, mind, body, and soul— it will be impossible for them to be happy, no matter what you say you can do for them.

Say it with me, now: “I’m sorry, I can’t; but I trust that you’ll be able to figure something else out.”

It’s that easy— polite, firm, genuine, and true to yourself.

XOXO

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Giving Up The Ghosts.

Last night, I had a dream about the first boy I ever really liked and had a mad, raging, multi-year-long crush on. It was an interesting dream, because in it, he was just as blase and indecisive as he had been in real life. Finally, driven to the end of my proverbial rope by despair and out of my wits with frustration, I wrote him a letter, outlining the fact that as long as he couldn’t choose to keep a monogamous relationship either between me and him or him and my friend, I was done— I wanted nothing to do with him. I upheld my promise pretty well— until we survived a life-or-death situation together, caved under the pressure, had sex again, and then I got to confront my friend while helping her move from her apartment about the fact he was playing us both.

It was an emotionally-charged, fascinating dream— possibly made more interesting by the appearance of the ex at the tail-end of it, as well as the fact that I knew that my first crush was actually the symbolical representation of my last relationship. I woke up, utterly fed up, and started thinking about the lengths that women will go through to try to keep a relationship.

I have never been a fan of the ultimatums, unlike much women. I firmly believe that if you’re going to make a “if…than” statement, you should be willing to stand by it under pain of death, dismemberment, or break-up, and, as my dream obviously revealed, I’ve never really been great at doing that. If a woman gives a man an ultimatum— “It’s done forever and ever until the end of time when the Universe is sucked into a black hole if you ever sleep with another woman”— and then doesn’t actually have the balls to stand by what she said in earnest, it teaches both of them that A.) A woman can say things that she absolutely doesn’t mean, and B.) That he can get away with it. I consider both outcomes horrible things. And I’m always quick on the draw to call a bluff. So, instead, I stick to the “Do it once, shame on you; do it twice, shame on me, I’m leaving,” mentality. It works, for the most part. In real life, not only was I able to walk away from my first crush when he perpetrated events much like the ones in my dream last night, but I also repeated my feat of fortitude and strength again when the ex repeated similar events, later in my life.

And yet, I find myself still dreaming of them both. What does this say about me; about them?

Despite the fact that we grew up together and still are in casual touch, I hadn’t thought about my first crush in months before last night, so I happen to think he was just a handy vehicle for my dream-self to craft the morality lesson of last night’s sleep around. As for the ex…well, that’s a more slippery slope, but I can explain where the specter of him came from, too. Before I went to sleep last night, I was watching a movie when the dishy main actor suddenly smiled, and in a blinding flash of realization, I realized why I was drawn to him— he very much resembled the ex, especially when he smiled. I started flipping back through my Rolodex of Previous Relationships, trying to put famous faces to my exes who resembled them. I made the same obvious match of Aaron Eckhart to someone as I had when I’d been seeing him, but, other than him, the only other one of my ex-lovers who I could pin similar faces on was the ex, and as I kept coming up with names of people who I thought looked like him— the guy from the movie; Emile Hirsch; Adem Ljajic— I started wondering why, to me, he was one of my most recognized faces. It wasn’t the fact that he was my longest running on-again, off-again thing; it wasn’t the fact that I truly loved him— I truly love my most recent ex, but I was fucked if I could come up with a doppelganger for him, so there goes that theory. I will admit to the fact that in his heyday, the ex was certainly one of the most striking and handsome men I have ever seen, let alone been with, so maybe that was it. We human beings can be incredibly shallow, after all.

The ex was beautiful, and he and I shared a lot of emotional history— and hysteria— together. But does that, and the fact that I can still catch glimpses of him in other people mean that I in any way desire him back? Oh, helllllllll noooooooo.  Let’s face it, I’m a little bit of a masochist, and a little pain never really hurt anyone, but I would have to be declared clinically insane to ever go back to him. THAT much pain and turmoil he put me through just isn’t worth it; no matter how attractive he was, no matter what we had in common; no matter the fact that we shared friends, professions, and a common life. I remember how miserable I could be when I was with him, and in general, I tend to believe that there is one thing human beings should never actively seek out to be, and that thing is miserable. Learning that lesson through him— and, in some ways, the baby starter steps to it with my first crush— was possibly one of the defining moments of my life thus far, and it has always served as a valuable lesson every time another relationship starts to turn the same way. I am more important to myself than a man will ever be, no matter how much I happen to love him. And if he makes me miserable, well— then someone has to go, and it’s sure as hell not going to be me. One of the most important things you can ever learn is how and when to go about giving up the ghost of relationships failed, past, and never to be repeated again.

XOXO

—-

- From SATCG.

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Acceptance Bad Life Decisions Break Ups Dream Big Small Tadpole Ghosts Happiness Hindsight Love And War Philosophy Relationships SATCG The Ex-Files

So you know how I wrote yesterday about how I basically blue-balled my OkCupid profile on account of my wisdom-tooth extraction (which is neither as involved nor as suffering as I made it sound) (I mean, I AM in pain and not as attractive as usual, but there’s Vicodin and a long-distance romance for that,) (and for not having to shave regularly,) and basically said I’m on hiatus from meeting new people because of it for at least a few weeks? When really, I did it because I’m too cautious to really put all my eggs in one basket this early in the game with Twig, but too chicken-shit to actually broach the “should we shut our profiles down and stop actively meeting other people?” conversation?

Well, he deactivated his account. We didn’t talk about it; he did it all on his own, and I didn’t realize it until I was in my Favorites folder yesterday morning and saw his profile no longer existed, which it had just a few days ago when last I noted it. 

…I am so cautiously happy I don’t know what to do with myself or about it. I mean, the trip went really well and I had an amazing time co-habbing and just BEING with him and I’ve stopped seeing other people for anything other than hiking buddies and have absolutely zero interest in any other men, and it was really worrying me inside for the last month that he may be actively, casually seeing other women (inferred: whom he may like more). And now…I am just a bundle of jubilant, confused, hyperactive nerves. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what it means. I can hope it means what the regular girl-next-door would think it means, but even in my jaded, SL&R, open sexuality, all-knowing, psych-minded world, I don’t know what it means.

Women’s brain/biology issues. I’m trying to just avoid thinking about it or getting in too deep analyzing it.

XOXO

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