I’m facing an abrupt reality. It hadn’t occurred to me in the past. A long time ago someone asked me whether I was leaving in fear, fear of another relationship. He questioned the fact that I stopped going out, meeting men, dating. No profile on match, or POF or Tinder, nothing. In all honesty, I am not scared of relationships, never was and still aren’t. And because I am quite particular, my devils live In wording, I did not realize that the fear that moves me or more so nails me is: man. I fear man, the man. I like some of them. I respect a few even, but turn them into potential for intimacy, I really fear them.
I don’t trust men with my emotions, with love, with time, my body. One would first have to value these things to do so in others. I see them as callous beings who don’t give a shit about anything or anyone but themselves, their wants, their needs, and on their own terms. They are takers that pull and withdraw. They are puppeteers with people, their emotions and not inanimate objects. They lack compassion, kindness. They come with purpose, none to my benefit. They use and abuse then turn around and blame me, telling me I should have known better that they came with vile intentions despite their words of love. They get off knowing how many lies they can get over, and how crazy they can make you. They love and trash you at the same time.
A loving relationship is that beautiful bright sky filled with stars, I want to get closer to. It is fascinating. I wish to draw near and hold. And each time I reach whether on a ladder, on top of buildings or wings of an airplane I keep falling. The higher I reach, the worse the fall. Then I realized, it isn’t the lack of wishing or trying it is the avenue that is subpar. Or maybe, only a few, the astronauts can get to fly into the sky, higher and higher to the point they get past it all, to many other dimensions and can look down upon that very same setting!
I’m not one.
I’m sitting having my lil’ drink, not thinking about romance or love or dating, just out enjoying a beautiful twilight and he interrupts my thoughts. We start speaking. We discussed everything, family, children, divorce, sports, Hilary Clinton, Obama, fishing. We spent hours talking and then he asked for my number. I’m grown right? I could use a friend or two to have drinks with, right? So, I give my number then he calls and texts. He was happy we met. I’m different and fun to talk with. He wants more. And I cower.
I can handle strangers in the night. I can enjoy repartees but an advance for more fires, cannons of uncertainty?!! Men aren’t kind. They haven’t been in the past, why would this one be any different? It isn’t him. It is me. I have given up on expectations and belief in the male specie. I can only see pain and lies, another one coming to take and take and use and use.
I admit. I can’t find my innocence, my naïveté, another blank page to hand over to another male who will write his own bullshit in a chapter in my life. Does that make me horrible? I’m a hopeless case. Hope is founded on positive expectations and I barely have any left, especially of the male specie. Am I blaming every man for all the bad ones I came across!! Hardly! I’m building on my experiences. Isn’t that what they teach us, Lear from your mistakes? Don’t men say we should thank them for the lessons? The men I allowed in my romantic life were mainly warnings. I cried too many tears over potential, dream, hope and chances. And I learned. Every time I tried, I failed and failure hurts. It takes years to re-build.
I choose to build. I now choose to invest. In me. In my peace of mind. In acceptance. If I could, I would want the days when I never even dated a man. If I could…or at least wished I had experienced more blameless break-ups. I gave my all At the feet of hope and taking chances.
People spend dollars every week hoping to win the lotto. Few win. Some choose not to play, choosing to invest elsewhere. But others keep at it. Sometimes out of habit,, or other times ecause they can. They have the funds, the time to spare.
I have nothing to spare.