"I'm not a concept. Too many guys think I'm a concept or I complete them or I'm going to make them alive, but I'm just a fucked-up girl who is looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours." -- Clementine Kruczynski, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
I miss Goose. Missing Goose is like having a bruise that never heals. Most of the time, it's just a dull ache, but sometimes, something pokes it into a sharp pain that cannot be ignored.
I haven't had any contact with him in almost three months, since I declined his invitation to meet up with him in Las Vegas. I have used tremendous willpower to resist checking his Facebook page (since this will only lead to further heartache, I am sure) or emailing him. Even so, I find myself trying to come up with any flimsy pretext to email him. No matter how much I churn the problem around in my mind, I can't come up with anything. Given how much I've considered it, even as I hate myself for doing so, I must conclude that there is no pretext for emailing him other than because I want to, which is not so much pretext as...text.
In my mind, Goose is the one who needs to email me first if there is to be any resumption of contact. He may believe the opposite, since I'm the one who refused to go to Las Vegas after he invited me twice, or he may not care. One thing I learned from my recent revelation that Doug Funny got married is that I am capable of thinking that a man has deep, though perhaps complicated, feelings for me when he in fact probably doesn't even remember my last name. That realization feels like shit. When Goose and I were together last summer, there was an intense connection between us. When we parted at the airport and I saw his face for the last time, he was looking at the ground, heartbroken, not wanting to let go of my hand. When we hugged each other good-bye, I let go first, and he pulled me to him a second time, when I again let go first so he wouldn't miss his flight. But now, it seems like he just wanted me for a warm place to park his junk while he was on vacation and I imagined these tempestuous feelings.
When does this get better? I think there are two answers, both equally true: eventually and never. I loved Doug Funny so much that it took me years to get over him, and yet I never really did, as evidenced by the fact that I was just recently looking him up online to see what he's up to. If I keep on keeping on with my plan not to contact Goose, I see no reason why the recovery process will not unfold the same way. And yet, I don't remember still hurting this much over Doug Funny this long after the last time I saw him. Perhaps that's just my mind playing tricks on me, since I met Doug Funny almost six years ago and it is hard to recall the exact color of my emotions. Or perhaps it's because Doug Funny and I had very little contact with each other after we separated in July 2004. In fact, I don't think I spoke with him at all between October 2004 and December 2007, and I communicated with him only three or four times between July and October 2004. Goose and I spoke much more frequently, and there was the invitation to meet him in Las Vegas. Perhaps it's because I love Goose more than I loved Doug Funny.
I'm sure there is also something to the fact that I met Goose at a time when my professional life was in a shambles. This may prolong my grief at our relationship's non-starter status, much as my professional woes compounded with the loss of Doug Funny to make for an exponentially worse time of things. When I find a permanent job, maybe that will lessen the hurt. (I would sure like to test that theory by finding a permanent job.)
Everything about this situation seems to pile on everything else to make it worse and worse. I miss him, but it's made worse by my perception (based on his silence) that he doesn't miss me. I love him, which is made sadder and more poignant by my perception (again, based on his silence as well as his unwillingness to break up with his girlfriend) that he doesn't love me. It all leaves me with the sour feeling that I am not lovable but rather only desirable, that these men want me for what I represent (in my Serena van der Woodsen fashion) and then get tired of me and never think about me again.
Showing posts with label Doug Funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Doug Funny. Show all posts
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
It's Years Since You've Been There and Now You've Disappeared Somewhere, Like Outer Space You've Found Some Better Place
I need to learn (and probably never will) that internet stalking old boyfriends is a terrible idea that only leads to pain and misery.
I don't know why, but I decided today that I absolutely could not continue with my life not knowing what was going on with my old boyfriend Doug Funny. Doug Funny and I had a brief, fraught relationship in the summer of 2004 when we were summer associates together. He got an offer and returned to the firm; I did not and did not.
Doug Funny was the first and only time I've ever fallen in love with someone at first sight. He had a girlfriend at the time (quelle surprise, given my history), but he ended his relationship with her (after much sturm und drang) to be with me. Then he broke up with me to get back with her and ultimately moved in with her. I told him I was in love with him, and he basically told me he didn't know what to say to that. We have barely spoken since. The last time we corresponded was in 2007. I sent him a Christmas card in the hopes of rekindling a friendship with him (an idea that seemed less stupid to me at the time than it does now in retrospect). He emailed me once, but that was it. I took that to mean that he didn't harbor any ill will toward me but neither did he have any interest in resuming regular contact.
To be clear, I loved Doug Funny very much. However, I think a lot of my ongoing attachment to him and my great difficulty in getting over him stemmed from the fact that his rejection of me occurred at virtually the exact instant as our summer employer's rejection of me. As any lawyer can tell you, failing to get an offer from the firm where you summer means that you are pretty much fucked. It's not an exaggeration to say that the course of my whole life would have been different if I had received that offer. If I had gotten an offer, I would not have returned to the firm to torture myself with continued contact with someone I loved who didn't want me. I would have leveraged that offer into an offer of employment at one of many other firms that would have welcomed a graduate of my top-ranked law school. Not having an offer branded me as defective. I was never told why I didn't get the offer, and most employers would not have cared anyway. Law firms are notoriously risk averse, and hiring someone whose summer firm didn't want her is a risky proposition. From this calamity, I went on to a clerkship that was, frankly, beneath me to a law firm that was also beneath me (though not as far beneath me as the clerkship). I escaped from that law firm to a very well-respected firm that ultimately laid me off for not having enough experience -- experience that I would most likely have had if I had progressed straight to a firm from law school as I expected to do.
I have probably gotten over the employment situation as much as I'm ever going to. It's not something I think about on a daily basis, but I haven't forgiven (and don't intend to forgive) the people I consider responsible for causing me not to get an offer. (I don't consider myself to be one of those people. I worked hard that summer, and I got good evaluations, and I deserved the offer.) I also can't deny the fact that my life would have been different (though arguably not necessarily better) if I had received the offer. I believe that not getting that offer was more disastrous to my career than my subsequent misfortune of being laid off and thus was the single biggest event in my career thus far.
All that boring career stuff is my way of saying that when Doug Funny broke my heart, his actions combined with another major disappointment and completely shattered me. It was like a giant meteoric impact, leaving an ugly, empty crater in my soul. It changed me -- in some ways for the worse and perhaps in some ways for the better, but it changed me.
I never thought our relationship changed Doug Funny. He was a self-confessed hater of change, which he proved by rejecting the change he made to the romantic landscape of his life and going back to the familiar, broken relationship with his old girlfriend. (I say their relationship was broken because although they had been together for four years, they had never had sex. This was not for religious reasons. It was basically because they didn't want to. That's not normal.) She apparently forgave him for his summer fling, and they resumed their relationship like I never happened. My response to this was to send her all the emails he sent me over the summer, which I'm ashamed of. I don't think she ever got them though because otherwise, he probably wouldn't have been so cordial when we emailed in 2007. So, that was lucky. It wasn't her fault, and I shouldn't have done it, but I wanted to get his attention.
Anyway, despite that, I still thought that I meant something to Doug Funny. I was convinced that he would contact me when he and his girlfriend broke up. I thought that I must be some unanswered question in his life or maybe even the one that got away.
Well, thanks a lot, Google, for showing me how wrong I was. Doug Funny got married last summer. His wife is a very attractive woman with two best friends who post their entire lives on the internet, including photos. I was able to view several photos of their wedding thanks to the two big-mouths his wife is best friends with. (The big-mouths are scrapbookers, so they probably view their blogs as internet scrapbooks. I'm trying not to be judgmental about the scrapbooking, but I'm mostly not succeeding.) Now I feel like he purged the memory of me from his life as easily as he might clear his throat. I'm not someone he was once in love with. I'm someone he probably never even thinks about anymore. I feel like a giant idiot both for having once loved him so much, for still caring about him at all, and for being stone-stupid enough to go looking for things to upset myself with on the internet. God. Fuck you, Google. My sole consolation here is that his new wife looks quite a bit like me. It's a very small consolation.
I agree with Doug Funny's unstated assertion that he and I would not have worked out in the long run. I know nothing about the specific woman he chose, but he was right to marry someone else. I hope she's a cool lady. That said, I consider Doug Funny to be one of the great loves of my life, right up there with Goose, who I consider to be my soul mate. Since he and I split up, I have kissed only one other person (The New Guy), and that wasn't even until February 2009. It is so hurtful to think that he probably barely remembers me at all.
I don't know why, but I decided today that I absolutely could not continue with my life not knowing what was going on with my old boyfriend Doug Funny. Doug Funny and I had a brief, fraught relationship in the summer of 2004 when we were summer associates together. He got an offer and returned to the firm; I did not and did not.
Doug Funny was the first and only time I've ever fallen in love with someone at first sight. He had a girlfriend at the time (quelle surprise, given my history), but he ended his relationship with her (after much sturm und drang) to be with me. Then he broke up with me to get back with her and ultimately moved in with her. I told him I was in love with him, and he basically told me he didn't know what to say to that. We have barely spoken since. The last time we corresponded was in 2007. I sent him a Christmas card in the hopes of rekindling a friendship with him (an idea that seemed less stupid to me at the time than it does now in retrospect). He emailed me once, but that was it. I took that to mean that he didn't harbor any ill will toward me but neither did he have any interest in resuming regular contact.
To be clear, I loved Doug Funny very much. However, I think a lot of my ongoing attachment to him and my great difficulty in getting over him stemmed from the fact that his rejection of me occurred at virtually the exact instant as our summer employer's rejection of me. As any lawyer can tell you, failing to get an offer from the firm where you summer means that you are pretty much fucked. It's not an exaggeration to say that the course of my whole life would have been different if I had received that offer. If I had gotten an offer, I would not have returned to the firm to torture myself with continued contact with someone I loved who didn't want me. I would have leveraged that offer into an offer of employment at one of many other firms that would have welcomed a graduate of my top-ranked law school. Not having an offer branded me as defective. I was never told why I didn't get the offer, and most employers would not have cared anyway. Law firms are notoriously risk averse, and hiring someone whose summer firm didn't want her is a risky proposition. From this calamity, I went on to a clerkship that was, frankly, beneath me to a law firm that was also beneath me (though not as far beneath me as the clerkship). I escaped from that law firm to a very well-respected firm that ultimately laid me off for not having enough experience -- experience that I would most likely have had if I had progressed straight to a firm from law school as I expected to do.
I have probably gotten over the employment situation as much as I'm ever going to. It's not something I think about on a daily basis, but I haven't forgiven (and don't intend to forgive) the people I consider responsible for causing me not to get an offer. (I don't consider myself to be one of those people. I worked hard that summer, and I got good evaluations, and I deserved the offer.) I also can't deny the fact that my life would have been different (though arguably not necessarily better) if I had received the offer. I believe that not getting that offer was more disastrous to my career than my subsequent misfortune of being laid off and thus was the single biggest event in my career thus far.
All that boring career stuff is my way of saying that when Doug Funny broke my heart, his actions combined with another major disappointment and completely shattered me. It was like a giant meteoric impact, leaving an ugly, empty crater in my soul. It changed me -- in some ways for the worse and perhaps in some ways for the better, but it changed me.
I never thought our relationship changed Doug Funny. He was a self-confessed hater of change, which he proved by rejecting the change he made to the romantic landscape of his life and going back to the familiar, broken relationship with his old girlfriend. (I say their relationship was broken because although they had been together for four years, they had never had sex. This was not for religious reasons. It was basically because they didn't want to. That's not normal.) She apparently forgave him for his summer fling, and they resumed their relationship like I never happened. My response to this was to send her all the emails he sent me over the summer, which I'm ashamed of. I don't think she ever got them though because otherwise, he probably wouldn't have been so cordial when we emailed in 2007. So, that was lucky. It wasn't her fault, and I shouldn't have done it, but I wanted to get his attention.
Anyway, despite that, I still thought that I meant something to Doug Funny. I was convinced that he would contact me when he and his girlfriend broke up. I thought that I must be some unanswered question in his life or maybe even the one that got away.
Well, thanks a lot, Google, for showing me how wrong I was. Doug Funny got married last summer. His wife is a very attractive woman with two best friends who post their entire lives on the internet, including photos. I was able to view several photos of their wedding thanks to the two big-mouths his wife is best friends with. (The big-mouths are scrapbookers, so they probably view their blogs as internet scrapbooks. I'm trying not to be judgmental about the scrapbooking, but I'm mostly not succeeding.) Now I feel like he purged the memory of me from his life as easily as he might clear his throat. I'm not someone he was once in love with. I'm someone he probably never even thinks about anymore. I feel like a giant idiot both for having once loved him so much, for still caring about him at all, and for being stone-stupid enough to go looking for things to upset myself with on the internet. God. Fuck you, Google. My sole consolation here is that his new wife looks quite a bit like me. It's a very small consolation.
I agree with Doug Funny's unstated assertion that he and I would not have worked out in the long run. I know nothing about the specific woman he chose, but he was right to marry someone else. I hope she's a cool lady. That said, I consider Doug Funny to be one of the great loves of my life, right up there with Goose, who I consider to be my soul mate. Since he and I split up, I have kissed only one other person (The New Guy), and that wasn't even until February 2009. It is so hurtful to think that he probably barely remembers me at all.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
I'm Your Biggest Fan, I'll Follow You Until You Love Me
Damn. Today was just a fucking hell of a day.
It started pretty much right away when my dog decided to bark at nothing at 2am, waking me up. Then, at 4am, my smoke detector battery decided to alert me to its low-ness with a series of annoying, sleep-repelling beeps. At 7am, I was jazzed to get into my thin pants, but this triumph was mooted when I stepped on the cuff of the pants going up the stairs and ripped them. The garment transformed instantly from thin pants into a dust rag.
Then, while I was at work, I heard from my insurance guy again. He's persisting in his desire to talk to me about my options as far as insurance goes. He pointed out that if I cancel now, I lose all the money I put in. He is quite correct in this point, but it is equally true that if I want to keep the money I put in, I have to continue putting in money. The money I've put in already is a sunk cost, and I think continuing to put in money I don't have to protect what I've put in already is false economy. I was tired and wound up about leaving on my vacation tomorrow, so this was really stressing me out. At the moment, I've decided I don't need to return his email. I already told him what I want to do, and while I think he has some valid points about the benefits of keeping the insurance, I have already decided that the deficits outweigh the benefits, and I don't want to hear a sales pitch.
Then, when I got home, I discovered that I had a birthday card awaiting me from Sniffles. I haven't talked much about Sniffles here, but she was my best friend in high school and college. We had a falling out in 2004. The short version is that I was going through a difficult break-up with a guy who had been one of my best friends and who had really broken my heart (who is, interestingly enough, still my friend now). She really didn't have much patience for this, and I didn't feel like she was being supportive. I withdrew emotionally and started avoiding her phone calls. Before we had a chance to work out our problems, I entered into another relationship that ended in spectacular failure (Doug Funny) and found out I wasn't getting an offer from my 2L summer employer. (If you are not an attorney, you might not understand the importance of getting an offer from your summer employer. About 97% of people get offers. If you don't get one, you are a fucking pariah. I was deprived of an offer for no reason I've ever been told or been able to deduce, and it literally took years before I overcame that blot on my escutcheon.) After two major break-ups in a few months and a significant career setback, I just did not have the energy to deal with Sniffles and repairing our relationship.
Despite having been one of my best friends, Sniffles' subsequent behavior suggested she did not know me very well at all. If I'm mad at someone, I need my space. She responded to this by calling me every single day, despite my never returning her calls. Finally, she switched to email, and around Christmas, I emailed her back and said, as nicely as I could, that I didn't want to continue the friendship. The last two years, she has been sending me birthday cards.
I realize that it sounds childish to complain about being sent a birthday card. But it's my birthday, and I feel territorial about it. I don't want people using it as a springboard for their own agendas. It just feels inappropriate to me. I also don't think that her continued efforts to reintroduce herself into my life are a nice gesture. I've already told her what I want, and now she puts me in a position of having to be mean to her. Maybe she doesn't understand why I don't want to be friends, but continuing to try to be friends just makes me want to be friends even less.
I really don't know how to respond to these various encroachments on my emotional personal space. My fervent desire to avoid conflict pretty much turns my life into pre-World War II Europe, with me playing the part of Neville Chamberlain and everyone else demanding Lebensraum. With some people, ignoring them just does not make them go away. Yet, at the same time, it's hard to insist on boundaries (especially when those boundaries are "don't contact me ever again") without feeling mean. I guess it's mean whether you go the passive route or the aggressive route.
It started pretty much right away when my dog decided to bark at nothing at 2am, waking me up. Then, at 4am, my smoke detector battery decided to alert me to its low-ness with a series of annoying, sleep-repelling beeps. At 7am, I was jazzed to get into my thin pants, but this triumph was mooted when I stepped on the cuff of the pants going up the stairs and ripped them. The garment transformed instantly from thin pants into a dust rag.
Then, while I was at work, I heard from my insurance guy again. He's persisting in his desire to talk to me about my options as far as insurance goes. He pointed out that if I cancel now, I lose all the money I put in. He is quite correct in this point, but it is equally true that if I want to keep the money I put in, I have to continue putting in money. The money I've put in already is a sunk cost, and I think continuing to put in money I don't have to protect what I've put in already is false economy. I was tired and wound up about leaving on my vacation tomorrow, so this was really stressing me out. At the moment, I've decided I don't need to return his email. I already told him what I want to do, and while I think he has some valid points about the benefits of keeping the insurance, I have already decided that the deficits outweigh the benefits, and I don't want to hear a sales pitch.
Then, when I got home, I discovered that I had a birthday card awaiting me from Sniffles. I haven't talked much about Sniffles here, but she was my best friend in high school and college. We had a falling out in 2004. The short version is that I was going through a difficult break-up with a guy who had been one of my best friends and who had really broken my heart (who is, interestingly enough, still my friend now). She really didn't have much patience for this, and I didn't feel like she was being supportive. I withdrew emotionally and started avoiding her phone calls. Before we had a chance to work out our problems, I entered into another relationship that ended in spectacular failure (Doug Funny) and found out I wasn't getting an offer from my 2L summer employer. (If you are not an attorney, you might not understand the importance of getting an offer from your summer employer. About 97% of people get offers. If you don't get one, you are a fucking pariah. I was deprived of an offer for no reason I've ever been told or been able to deduce, and it literally took years before I overcame that blot on my escutcheon.) After two major break-ups in a few months and a significant career setback, I just did not have the energy to deal with Sniffles and repairing our relationship.
Despite having been one of my best friends, Sniffles' subsequent behavior suggested she did not know me very well at all. If I'm mad at someone, I need my space. She responded to this by calling me every single day, despite my never returning her calls. Finally, she switched to email, and around Christmas, I emailed her back and said, as nicely as I could, that I didn't want to continue the friendship. The last two years, she has been sending me birthday cards.
I realize that it sounds childish to complain about being sent a birthday card. But it's my birthday, and I feel territorial about it. I don't want people using it as a springboard for their own agendas. It just feels inappropriate to me. I also don't think that her continued efforts to reintroduce herself into my life are a nice gesture. I've already told her what I want, and now she puts me in a position of having to be mean to her. Maybe she doesn't understand why I don't want to be friends, but continuing to try to be friends just makes me want to be friends even less.
I really don't know how to respond to these various encroachments on my emotional personal space. My fervent desire to avoid conflict pretty much turns my life into pre-World War II Europe, with me playing the part of Neville Chamberlain and everyone else demanding Lebensraum. With some people, ignoring them just does not make them go away. Yet, at the same time, it's hard to insist on boundaries (especially when those boundaries are "don't contact me ever again") without feeling mean. I guess it's mean whether you go the passive route or the aggressive route.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
I Am Serena van der Woodsen
I had dinner last night with a friend of mine from school. I hadn't seen her in four or five months, so it was nice to catch up. (She paid, and that was nice also.)
I filled her in on the most recent developments with Goose (the Las Vegas invitation), and she called him the most selfish person she had ever heard of. She took the position that he knows that he's going to hurt me by having me visit him, but he's doing it anyway because it's what he wants. She also advanced the hypothesis that since he has feelings for me (which she believes he does, and I believe he does) and since he knows he can't give me what I want, he should want me to be happy and want what's best for me instead of wanting me to pay attention to him.
My friend made the rather obvious point that I attract a lot of men who are already in relationships. I knew that already, but she added to my existing awareness of the problem by giving her theory on why that is. Relationships are hard work. Everyone I know, even people who are madly in love with their partners, tells me that relationships can be a grind. I assume that if you are not really in love with your partner, the humdrum quality of being in a relationship is even more grueling than it is for someone who has a more deeply-felt reason to slog through the low points. My friend says that I am a free, open spirit, that I am beautiful and joyous and fun and one of the least judgmental people she's ever met, that I am accepting of people as they are, and that I blow into these men's lives like a breath of fresh air to show them how their lives could be if they discarded their tiresome girlfriends or wives. Which they never do, at least not permanently.
I choose to believe what my friend says -- primarily because it's filled with compliments toward me, but secondarily because it makes sense. Goose, for example, may care about and love his girlfriend, but in no way do I believe he is in love with her (nor she with him, to be fair). I don't know why they stay together, but it isn't because they are soul mates. When I came along, I probably felt like a relief to him. It probably didn't hurt that we met during a vacation, which is a situation designed to maximize fun and joyousness. I'm sure he loved the way he felt when he was with me, which is why he stayed in touch and why he invited me to rendezvous with him in Las Vegas. But he's still not discarding the girlfriend.
Maybe these guys don't break up with their girlfriends for me because, at some level, they know that being in a relationship with me would inevitably turn into the same drill they already have. I contend that this could be improved upon if they're in love with me, but that doesn't mean there won't be sad, tedious, frustrating or annoying moments being with me. In 2004, Doug Funny actually did break up with his girlfriend for me for a very short period of time before going back to her. I don't know why he left her for me, only to leave me for her seemingly moments later, but maybe it was because he realized that there is no such thing as a relationship without work. (As a side note, I should say that I don't believe any of the men I've ever been in these situations with has been in love with his girlfriend. I have met a lot of scorching hot, really kind-hearted men who were madly in love with their girlfriends or wives, and I shared no attraction with them beyond friendship.)
Unfortunately, my friend did not offer any suggestions about why my joie de vivre fails to attract available men, but I think I'm further along in understanding my life than I was yesterday.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Mamma Mia, Here I Go Again. My, My, How Can I Resist You?
Friday, I'm going to visit my ex-boyfriend, who I haven't seen in three years since we graduated from school. As I have probably mentioned (I'm too lazy to review my own archives), we were friends, we argued for six months over whether or not to date, we dated for a hot second, then we fought about that for another year and a half. We know how to make the magic last. When we graduated, we were not speaking, but we patched things up that fall, and we've been more or less in touch since then. We've also been living on opposite sides of the country, which has probably helped us get along better, but it means we haven't seen each other.
I'm excited to see him, but I'm nervous as well. In the fullness of time, I concluded that we were better off as friends, but he broke my heart when we were in school. Repeatedly. He broke my heart right before I met Doug Funny, but that wasn't the only time. I once cried about him every day for a month. He probably changed me more (through knowing me and being friends with me, not through active efforts on his part) than anyone else, including Doug Funny, I met in that phase of my life. We loved each other desperately, but in a platonic way, I guess.
Given all the emotion I invested in this person and all the emotion he invested in me, I'm anxious for this visit to go well. I'm also anxious for it to remain strictly at a friend level. I have not had any indication from him that he hopes for anything more significant, and he was the one who ended the romantic phase of our relationship, but we are both single right now (I think), and we used to date, and accidents happen. One of my Muslim friends says that when a man and a woman are alone together, the third person in the room is the devil, and I'm hopeful that that won't be true in this situation.
It's really me more than him that I worry about. I talked to him on the phone today, and his voice made me feel a little fluttery. (He has a mellifluous, radio-friendly voice well-suited to his career, which involves a lot of public speaking.) Part of me was all twittery, and as my mother would say, "That part of you needs to shut the fuck up." We're friends. That's it. (I'll keep telling myself that.)
I'm excited to see him, but I'm nervous as well. In the fullness of time, I concluded that we were better off as friends, but he broke my heart when we were in school. Repeatedly. He broke my heart right before I met Doug Funny, but that wasn't the only time. I once cried about him every day for a month. He probably changed me more (through knowing me and being friends with me, not through active efforts on his part) than anyone else, including Doug Funny, I met in that phase of my life. We loved each other desperately, but in a platonic way, I guess.
Given all the emotion I invested in this person and all the emotion he invested in me, I'm anxious for this visit to go well. I'm also anxious for it to remain strictly at a friend level. I have not had any indication from him that he hopes for anything more significant, and he was the one who ended the romantic phase of our relationship, but we are both single right now (I think), and we used to date, and accidents happen. One of my Muslim friends says that when a man and a woman are alone together, the third person in the room is the devil, and I'm hopeful that that won't be true in this situation.
It's really me more than him that I worry about. I talked to him on the phone today, and his voice made me feel a little fluttery. (He has a mellifluous, radio-friendly voice well-suited to his career, which involves a lot of public speaking.) Part of me was all twittery, and as my mother would say, "That part of you needs to shut the fuck up." We're friends. That's it. (I'll keep telling myself that.)
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Raspberry Swirl
I was walking Teh Doggeh tonight and thinking about my upcoming surgery when something strange occurred to me.
I was considering whether (and this is not the strange part) my predilection for emotionally unavailable men is tied in with my physical difficulties with sex. It seems certain that this would be so. Back in high school, you could date someone for months, maybe longer, while not needing to consummate the relationship. As an adult, the general rule of thumb is three dates, which could mean anything between a few days to a few weeks. Knowing that the issue of sex is likely to arise quickly (heh), and also knowing that it is likely to be a painful and frustrating experience for both parties, it is understandable that I would be drawn to men with whom I unlikely to reach an intimate point because of their emotional unavailability.
The strange part is that it occurred to me that as much as these men are a pattern for me, I might be a pattern for them.
Doug Funny, during our brief romantic entanglement, told me that he and his girlfriend of four years had never had sex because it was painful for her even to try. Looking back on it, it sounds like she had (or perhaps has) the same problem that I have. I didn't then and don't now understand why she didn't go to a doctor to find out what was causing this pain, but that is neither here nor there. What I noticed is that he was in love with two women who had the same sexual dysfunction, two women unlikely to make sexual demands of him. Maybe our patterns (emotional unavailability and sexual unavailability) dovetailed, bringing the two of us together.
I initially dismissed this idea, reasoning that it is unlikely that Doug Funny could know at a glance that I would be sexually unavailable to him. But then I thought of something Humbert says in Lolita, talking about looking at a photo of young girls and knowing which one is the nymphet, and I realized that we all use subconscious cues or psychic impulses or scent or something to choose the people who offer us what we need. If someone who did not have my set of particular weirdnesses saw Doug Funny in a crowd of other men, he would not turn her head, but something in me recognized something in him and vice versa. I dated another guy once who turned out to be very sexually withdrawn because he was still a virgin in his mid-twenties. I would never have assumed that, but I was drawn to him for some reason, and maybe that was it. It makes me wonder whether some other guys I've liked, like The Only Living Boy in New York, have sexual issues of which I am unaware. It would explain a lot.
I made that last remark in jest, but it really would explain a lot. Most of the men I like share an atmosphere of emotional intimacy with me, but they are willing to go only so far with it and no farther. As soon as I want some kind of real investment from them, they tell me that they like me only as a friend and that they are sorry if I got the wrong impression. I am left feeling rejected and slightly crazy, as if I somehow imagined that there was something between us. But now it occurs to me that I may have trod on a major insecurity and that by pressing for an emotional commitment, I made these guys think I wanted more from them sexually than they could give. This may not be true in every case. Some of these guys may genuinely have seen me solely as a friend and unintentionally given me the wrong message, but not all of them. I can't believe it never occurred to me before because it makes so much sense that these guys would be choosing me because I could offer them the right amount of emotional closeness without physical demands and that they bolted when they discovered I wanted more.
It's weird and oddly comforting to think that my romantic problems could have a physical solution, or could at least be given a strong shove in the right direction by a procedure on my body. If I feel like I could have sex comfortably, what would that do to my confidence or my demeanor with men? Maybe I'll turn into a big ho. Here's hoping.
I was considering whether (and this is not the strange part) my predilection for emotionally unavailable men is tied in with my physical difficulties with sex. It seems certain that this would be so. Back in high school, you could date someone for months, maybe longer, while not needing to consummate the relationship. As an adult, the general rule of thumb is three dates, which could mean anything between a few days to a few weeks. Knowing that the issue of sex is likely to arise quickly (heh), and also knowing that it is likely to be a painful and frustrating experience for both parties, it is understandable that I would be drawn to men with whom I unlikely to reach an intimate point because of their emotional unavailability.
The strange part is that it occurred to me that as much as these men are a pattern for me, I might be a pattern for them.
Doug Funny, during our brief romantic entanglement, told me that he and his girlfriend of four years had never had sex because it was painful for her even to try. Looking back on it, it sounds like she had (or perhaps has) the same problem that I have. I didn't then and don't now understand why she didn't go to a doctor to find out what was causing this pain, but that is neither here nor there. What I noticed is that he was in love with two women who had the same sexual dysfunction, two women unlikely to make sexual demands of him. Maybe our patterns (emotional unavailability and sexual unavailability) dovetailed, bringing the two of us together.
I initially dismissed this idea, reasoning that it is unlikely that Doug Funny could know at a glance that I would be sexually unavailable to him. But then I thought of something Humbert says in Lolita, talking about looking at a photo of young girls and knowing which one is the nymphet, and I realized that we all use subconscious cues or psychic impulses or scent or something to choose the people who offer us what we need. If someone who did not have my set of particular weirdnesses saw Doug Funny in a crowd of other men, he would not turn her head, but something in me recognized something in him and vice versa. I dated another guy once who turned out to be very sexually withdrawn because he was still a virgin in his mid-twenties. I would never have assumed that, but I was drawn to him for some reason, and maybe that was it. It makes me wonder whether some other guys I've liked, like The Only Living Boy in New York, have sexual issues of which I am unaware. It would explain a lot.
I made that last remark in jest, but it really would explain a lot. Most of the men I like share an atmosphere of emotional intimacy with me, but they are willing to go only so far with it and no farther. As soon as I want some kind of real investment from them, they tell me that they like me only as a friend and that they are sorry if I got the wrong impression. I am left feeling rejected and slightly crazy, as if I somehow imagined that there was something between us. But now it occurs to me that I may have trod on a major insecurity and that by pressing for an emotional commitment, I made these guys think I wanted more from them sexually than they could give. This may not be true in every case. Some of these guys may genuinely have seen me solely as a friend and unintentionally given me the wrong message, but not all of them. I can't believe it never occurred to me before because it makes so much sense that these guys would be choosing me because I could offer them the right amount of emotional closeness without physical demands and that they bolted when they discovered I wanted more.
It's weird and oddly comforting to think that my romantic problems could have a physical solution, or could at least be given a strong shove in the right direction by a procedure on my body. If I feel like I could have sex comfortably, what would that do to my confidence or my demeanor with men? Maybe I'll turn into a big ho. Here's hoping.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I've Been Trying to Get Down To the Heart of the Matter
Heather Graham played a psychiatrist named Dr. Molly Klock on Scrubs who chose her profession because of her ability to zero in on people's insecurities. A college roommate of mine was her evil counterpart.
Kolly Mock and I were best friends for probably two or three years in college, and we lived together for a lot of that time. I'm not totally sure why I was friends with her because she enjoyed making me feel bad about myself way too much. I'm sure she only did that because either she was jealous of me for something or because she was covering up her own insecurities, but it was still hurtful. By senior year, I had started to throw myself into therapy pretty intensively, and as I started to gain more respect for myself, I stopped wanting to associate with her as much. Almost simultaneously, she started dating the man she ultimately married a few years ago and I left for my study abroad program. Strangely, even though we were inseparable for years, I haven't laid eyes on her since I left for my study abroad. We didn't even talk all that much after I left. We had been growing apart for awhile, and I decided I had lost patience with her superior attitude toward everything I did when she was considering going to graduate school for the same thing I went for and I emailed her to share some of my thoughts with her about it, and she was incredibly snotty to me. Right. Like, why would I know anything about that type of grad school program considering I fucking got into one of the five best programs for it in the country? Anyway, she didn't end up going to grad school for anything. Then, she got into a huge fight with a few mutual friends of ours, and that pretty much cemented the severance of ties between us.
Today, I got a wild impulse to Google her, and even though I am certain that I would rather be leading my life than hers, she managed to make me feel bad about myself. That's right. The bitch managed to make me feel bad about myself from another state, using only the internet, without even needing to talk to me. I have a good job, I am a home owner, I have a cute dog, I make sweet moolah (without even needing Uncle Rico), and I basically do whatever I want. But she has two things that just stick in my craw: she's married and she's thin. Mind you, she is married to someone I would not look at twice (and I'm not saying he is or is not a good guy or right for her, but I met him once, and he was just not doing anything for me personally, and the mutual friend Kolly Mock had a fight with said Mr. Mock was a fucking asshole), and I am now doing Weight Watchers, but of course that bitch would have lost weight since college and would be married. Fuck her. I can't even believe I'm so annoyed about this.
It probably wouldn't even annoy me as much (yes it would) except that even earlier today, I had another wild impulse to Google my very first boyfriend. I sort of expected I wouldn't find much about him because I didn't think that whatever gas station employed him probably posted personal information about its employees online, but to my chagrin, the motherfucker is in a sketch comedy troupe. It's not a sketch comedy troupe of which I have heard (meaning, it is not The Kids In the Hall or Upright Citizens Brigade), but they have DVDs of their work for sale on Amazon, and they had a film accepted to a film festival in New York. The last time I talked to this guy, he was a jerk and he smelled like Pert Plus. Now, I'll grant you that that was when he was 15, and he may have changed some in the ensuing years, but still.
I don't know why I'm so annoyed by the successes of people who I once cared about. I'll admit I'm not so fond of either of the above-mentioned people anymore, but I once felt close to both of them. And yet, I begrudge them their successes when I should be wishing them well. After all, it's not as if I'm doing poorly and it's not as if I want to trade lives with them.
In the case of Kolly Mock, I think part of it is being angry with myself for having such a long-standing (i.e., longer than five minutes) friendship with someone who treated me so shabbily. This is not to say that Kolly Mock spent all of her time punching me in the emotional gut; there were times when she was really there for me, and she could be a lot of fun. But overall, she just was not that nice to me, and I probably should have found a way to bow out of the friendship long before I did. By the same token, I should not now hold an image of her in my mind as this relentless bitch when there were lots of times when we had fun together. Being friends with Kolly Mock was a lot like being in a shitty romantic relationship, and even though I've had more than my fair share of those, I have not found a way to accomplish the goals of letting myself off the hook for participating in the dynamic and to accept the other person as a complex individual possessed of good and bad qualities who just was ultimately not a health association for me. If I could say anything I wanted to Kolly Mock now, I would probably tell her that I didn't like the way she talked to me a lot of the time, that she should have treated me more respectfully, and that I think she beat up on me to feel better about herself and that that was a crappy thing to do, but I would also thank her for the fun times and the laughter and the listening to me complain about the loser guys I dated.
I'm not very good at processing the end of a relationship or dealing with the idea that not every relationship, of whatever type, is meant to last forever. I remember that when Doug Funny and I broke up, I told a friend of mine that he must never have cared about me at all. She said that if I needed to believe that to get past it, then I should but that she doubted it was true. She was probably right. Doug Funny broke my heart and he treated me poorly, but, looking back, I believe that he and I were in love and that he cared about me very much and probably still cares about me at some level. Doug Funny and I had a relationship with more than its fair share of tears and whisper-fighting, but we had some good times too, and he made me laugh. But the relationship went as far as it could go, and that's likely the end of it. For some reason, I find it hard to hold in my mind the image of someone who had so many positive and alluring qualities and the image of someone I no longer want in my life and who no longer wants me in his. The same kind of goes for Kolly Mock. It's hard for me to remember that she could be fun and charismatic and yet also prey unfairly on my insecurities in a way that ultimately makes her someone that I don't choose to continue to have as a friend.
I think it all comes down to the issue of forgiveness, which is something I have always struggled with. I think part of accepting someone who has hurt me as a complex individual who had good qualities as well and not just thinking of him or her as a "bad guy" involves forgiving that person. It requires accepting that that person is human, is going through his or her own journey and probably grappling with lots of things, and probably either did not intend to hurt me or did so more because of something going on internally than because of something that I did. And of course, the person I find it hardest to forgive is myself (an issue I want to explore as part of my desire to deal with some psychological things that have gotten me to the Weight Watchers point in my life). It's hard for me to look back at, say, the friendship with Kolly Mock and not think that I was an idiot for letting her mistreat me instead of thinking that it was part of growing up and learning how I would and would not tolerate being treated and that we obviously shared a lot of fun times or I wouldn't have stuck around as long as I did. It's also hard for me to look at the relationship with Doug Funny and not think I was an idiot to get involved with him at all instead of remembering that I fell in love with him at first sight, that I still believe he is my soul mate (bearing in mind that I believe people have many soul mates and that the fact that Doug Funny and I are not going to be together does not dash my hopes for future romantic happiness), and that I would have regretted it if I hadn't made an attempt to see where the relationship could go. Forgiveness has gotten fractionally easier as I've gotten older, but it's still a struggle.
Kolly Mock and I were best friends for probably two or three years in college, and we lived together for a lot of that time. I'm not totally sure why I was friends with her because she enjoyed making me feel bad about myself way too much. I'm sure she only did that because either she was jealous of me for something or because she was covering up her own insecurities, but it was still hurtful. By senior year, I had started to throw myself into therapy pretty intensively, and as I started to gain more respect for myself, I stopped wanting to associate with her as much. Almost simultaneously, she started dating the man she ultimately married a few years ago and I left for my study abroad program. Strangely, even though we were inseparable for years, I haven't laid eyes on her since I left for my study abroad. We didn't even talk all that much after I left. We had been growing apart for awhile, and I decided I had lost patience with her superior attitude toward everything I did when she was considering going to graduate school for the same thing I went for and I emailed her to share some of my thoughts with her about it, and she was incredibly snotty to me. Right. Like, why would I know anything about that type of grad school program considering I fucking got into one of the five best programs for it in the country? Anyway, she didn't end up going to grad school for anything. Then, she got into a huge fight with a few mutual friends of ours, and that pretty much cemented the severance of ties between us.
Today, I got a wild impulse to Google her, and even though I am certain that I would rather be leading my life than hers, she managed to make me feel bad about myself. That's right. The bitch managed to make me feel bad about myself from another state, using only the internet, without even needing to talk to me. I have a good job, I am a home owner, I have a cute dog, I make sweet moolah (without even needing Uncle Rico), and I basically do whatever I want. But she has two things that just stick in my craw: she's married and she's thin. Mind you, she is married to someone I would not look at twice (and I'm not saying he is or is not a good guy or right for her, but I met him once, and he was just not doing anything for me personally, and the mutual friend Kolly Mock had a fight with said Mr. Mock was a fucking asshole), and I am now doing Weight Watchers, but of course that bitch would have lost weight since college and would be married. Fuck her. I can't even believe I'm so annoyed about this.
It probably wouldn't even annoy me as much (yes it would) except that even earlier today, I had another wild impulse to Google my very first boyfriend. I sort of expected I wouldn't find much about him because I didn't think that whatever gas station employed him probably posted personal information about its employees online, but to my chagrin, the motherfucker is in a sketch comedy troupe. It's not a sketch comedy troupe of which I have heard (meaning, it is not The Kids In the Hall or Upright Citizens Brigade), but they have DVDs of their work for sale on Amazon, and they had a film accepted to a film festival in New York. The last time I talked to this guy, he was a jerk and he smelled like Pert Plus. Now, I'll grant you that that was when he was 15, and he may have changed some in the ensuing years, but still.
I don't know why I'm so annoyed by the successes of people who I once cared about. I'll admit I'm not so fond of either of the above-mentioned people anymore, but I once felt close to both of them. And yet, I begrudge them their successes when I should be wishing them well. After all, it's not as if I'm doing poorly and it's not as if I want to trade lives with them.
In the case of Kolly Mock, I think part of it is being angry with myself for having such a long-standing (i.e., longer than five minutes) friendship with someone who treated me so shabbily. This is not to say that Kolly Mock spent all of her time punching me in the emotional gut; there were times when she was really there for me, and she could be a lot of fun. But overall, she just was not that nice to me, and I probably should have found a way to bow out of the friendship long before I did. By the same token, I should not now hold an image of her in my mind as this relentless bitch when there were lots of times when we had fun together. Being friends with Kolly Mock was a lot like being in a shitty romantic relationship, and even though I've had more than my fair share of those, I have not found a way to accomplish the goals of letting myself off the hook for participating in the dynamic and to accept the other person as a complex individual possessed of good and bad qualities who just was ultimately not a health association for me. If I could say anything I wanted to Kolly Mock now, I would probably tell her that I didn't like the way she talked to me a lot of the time, that she should have treated me more respectfully, and that I think she beat up on me to feel better about herself and that that was a crappy thing to do, but I would also thank her for the fun times and the laughter and the listening to me complain about the loser guys I dated.
I'm not very good at processing the end of a relationship or dealing with the idea that not every relationship, of whatever type, is meant to last forever. I remember that when Doug Funny and I broke up, I told a friend of mine that he must never have cared about me at all. She said that if I needed to believe that to get past it, then I should but that she doubted it was true. She was probably right. Doug Funny broke my heart and he treated me poorly, but, looking back, I believe that he and I were in love and that he cared about me very much and probably still cares about me at some level. Doug Funny and I had a relationship with more than its fair share of tears and whisper-fighting, but we had some good times too, and he made me laugh. But the relationship went as far as it could go, and that's likely the end of it. For some reason, I find it hard to hold in my mind the image of someone who had so many positive and alluring qualities and the image of someone I no longer want in my life and who no longer wants me in his. The same kind of goes for Kolly Mock. It's hard for me to remember that she could be fun and charismatic and yet also prey unfairly on my insecurities in a way that ultimately makes her someone that I don't choose to continue to have as a friend.
I think it all comes down to the issue of forgiveness, which is something I have always struggled with. I think part of accepting someone who has hurt me as a complex individual who had good qualities as well and not just thinking of him or her as a "bad guy" involves forgiving that person. It requires accepting that that person is human, is going through his or her own journey and probably grappling with lots of things, and probably either did not intend to hurt me or did so more because of something going on internally than because of something that I did. And of course, the person I find it hardest to forgive is myself (an issue I want to explore as part of my desire to deal with some psychological things that have gotten me to the Weight Watchers point in my life). It's hard for me to look back at, say, the friendship with Kolly Mock and not think that I was an idiot for letting her mistreat me instead of thinking that it was part of growing up and learning how I would and would not tolerate being treated and that we obviously shared a lot of fun times or I wouldn't have stuck around as long as I did. It's also hard for me to look at the relationship with Doug Funny and not think I was an idiot to get involved with him at all instead of remembering that I fell in love with him at first sight, that I still believe he is my soul mate (bearing in mind that I believe people have many soul mates and that the fact that Doug Funny and I are not going to be together does not dash my hopes for future romantic happiness), and that I would have regretted it if I hadn't made an attempt to see where the relationship could go. Forgiveness has gotten fractionally easier as I've gotten older, but it's still a struggle.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Baby Vamp
I succumbed (suck-umbed?) to the call of the Twilight series this weekend. I didn't have any plans, as per usual, so I bought all three of the books and read them. The books are long, but since they are aimed at young adult readers, they don't take very much time to read. I remain convinced that L.J. Smith's The Vampire Diaries were a major inspiration for this series, but they were entertaining books. My only complaint is that the heroine ends up with the guy I was rooting against (this always happens to me -- I rooted for Felicity and Noel, Joey and Dawson, Sydney Bristow and Will, Jim Halpert and Karen, etc.), but they were pretty good.
Other than reading these vampire books, I ate. I recently (as in, last Wednesday) decided to join Weight Watchers online, and I don't think I've ever been hungrier. Weight Watchers has a choice of two plans, but the one I chose allows me to eat any amount of food I want as long as I choose from a list a of "core foods." So, if I feel like eating a whole jar of dill pickles, that's no problem. I can also eat as much 94% fat-free microwave popcorn and drink as much Diet Coke as I want.
Why did I join Weight Watchers? I don't really think I'm fat, though I have to concede that I'm at the larger end of mainstream sizing. Lately, I've been going to a more challenging exercise class and the changes I've noticed in my body have made me more confident that I've been in a long time. Bizarrely, I think the very fact that I've been feeling better about myself influenced my decision -- like, I felt like I deserved to feel even better about myself than I already do. I would be lying if I didn't also concede that The Only Living Boy in New York played a role in the decision. I don't honestly think that my physical appearance impacted his decision because the fact that someone is aesthetically pleasing does not always mean you want to be in a relationship with that person and sometimes, you want to be in relationships with people who are not traditionally good-looking. However, if and when I run into him again, I don't want him to think, "There's what I'm definitely not missing." It's kind of the same strategy Anne Hathaway is employing against Raffaelo Follieri. Plus, I really need to stop attracting these emotionally unavailable men (The Only Living Boy in New York is just Puffy Redux, but there have been others as well like Doug Funny). Maybe if I felt better about myself, I would attract guys who felt better about themselves. Or maybe I would attract more guys period, and I could weed out the emotionally damaged ones.
I have some definite concerns about losing weight. The first and silliest is the feeling that I don't want to date anybody who wouldn't have been attracted to me at my larger size, assuming I succeed in losing weight. That's just dumb, but it's something I think about. The second is that I want to make sure that as I'm effectuating a physical change, I'm dealing with the psychological aspects as well. I mean, I didn't let my weight get to a level with which I'm not comfortable because I was just that hungry. Eating has an emotional component for me as well as a physical one, and I would say the emotional is more important. Food is something I've had a love-hate relationship with my whole life, and a few years ago, I just decided to stop caring about what I ate or trying to go on a diet. The first diet I can remember being on was when I was eight years old, and I was off and on them basically until I went to law school. I think that taking that time just to eat what I wanted without judging myself had the healthy effect of breaking me of the shame associated with eating, but it didn't cure me of the desire to use food to self-soothe. If I'm upset, my first thought is to eat either because I want to feel the comfort of building a protective layer of fat around myself or because I want to punish myself by being fatter. My weight has yo-yoed over the years almost as much as Oprah's, and while I'm not at the biggest I've ever been, I'm probably toward the top end. I think the reason I haven't sustained any of the weight losses I've achieved over the years is because I never dealt with the psychological motivations for eating (well, that and the fact that I haven't always used the healthiest methods to lose weight). It's not something I'm going to resolve in one night, but if I hope to make any kind of lasting change in my life, it must be addressed.
Maybe if lose weight, I can find myself a cute vampire and/or werewolf boyfriend like Bella in the Twilight series.
Other than reading these vampire books, I ate. I recently (as in, last Wednesday) decided to join Weight Watchers online, and I don't think I've ever been hungrier. Weight Watchers has a choice of two plans, but the one I chose allows me to eat any amount of food I want as long as I choose from a list a of "core foods." So, if I feel like eating a whole jar of dill pickles, that's no problem. I can also eat as much 94% fat-free microwave popcorn and drink as much Diet Coke as I want.
Why did I join Weight Watchers? I don't really think I'm fat, though I have to concede that I'm at the larger end of mainstream sizing. Lately, I've been going to a more challenging exercise class and the changes I've noticed in my body have made me more confident that I've been in a long time. Bizarrely, I think the very fact that I've been feeling better about myself influenced my decision -- like, I felt like I deserved to feel even better about myself than I already do. I would be lying if I didn't also concede that The Only Living Boy in New York played a role in the decision. I don't honestly think that my physical appearance impacted his decision because the fact that someone is aesthetically pleasing does not always mean you want to be in a relationship with that person and sometimes, you want to be in relationships with people who are not traditionally good-looking. However, if and when I run into him again, I don't want him to think, "There's what I'm definitely not missing." It's kind of the same strategy Anne Hathaway is employing against Raffaelo Follieri. Plus, I really need to stop attracting these emotionally unavailable men (The Only Living Boy in New York is just Puffy Redux, but there have been others as well like Doug Funny). Maybe if I felt better about myself, I would attract guys who felt better about themselves. Or maybe I would attract more guys period, and I could weed out the emotionally damaged ones.
I have some definite concerns about losing weight. The first and silliest is the feeling that I don't want to date anybody who wouldn't have been attracted to me at my larger size, assuming I succeed in losing weight. That's just dumb, but it's something I think about. The second is that I want to make sure that as I'm effectuating a physical change, I'm dealing with the psychological aspects as well. I mean, I didn't let my weight get to a level with which I'm not comfortable because I was just that hungry. Eating has an emotional component for me as well as a physical one, and I would say the emotional is more important. Food is something I've had a love-hate relationship with my whole life, and a few years ago, I just decided to stop caring about what I ate or trying to go on a diet. The first diet I can remember being on was when I was eight years old, and I was off and on them basically until I went to law school. I think that taking that time just to eat what I wanted without judging myself had the healthy effect of breaking me of the shame associated with eating, but it didn't cure me of the desire to use food to self-soothe. If I'm upset, my first thought is to eat either because I want to feel the comfort of building a protective layer of fat around myself or because I want to punish myself by being fatter. My weight has yo-yoed over the years almost as much as Oprah's, and while I'm not at the biggest I've ever been, I'm probably toward the top end. I think the reason I haven't sustained any of the weight losses I've achieved over the years is because I never dealt with the psychological motivations for eating (well, that and the fact that I haven't always used the healthiest methods to lose weight). It's not something I'm going to resolve in one night, but if I hope to make any kind of lasting change in my life, it must be addressed.
Maybe if lose weight, I can find myself a cute vampire and/or werewolf boyfriend like Bella in the Twilight series.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
I've Seen Your Flag on the Marble Arch and Love Is Not a Victory March
The thought of facing the week without talking to The Only Living Boy in New York saddens me. Realistically, I know it's unlikely that I will go the entire week without speaking to him (and that isn't even really the goal -- the goal is to sort of phase him out in something approximating the natural cooling off of a friendship), but I feel panicky anyway.
Over the past 10 months, The Only Living Boy in New York has become my safety net. He's the person I go to with everything from the important to the banal. Beyond that, he's the person that I wish I was waking up next to every day. The problem is that while he comes to me with all of his issues from the big to the small, he doesn't seem to share my wish for us to be together all the time or we would probably be together all the time (or at least as much of the time as possible considering that we live in different cities). And the truth is that if you're in a relationship, it's a democracy, but the decision to begin or end a relationship is more of a totalitarian dictatorship. No matter how much I want a relationship to happen or what my feelings are, it's ultimately up to him because he knows how I feel and he's the hold-out. It makes me feel so small and meaningless, like what I want counts for nothing. I hate it.
In an old blog of mine, I talked about the nature and significance of soul mates, and I concluded that a soul mate is someone who moves the ball forward in a person's development but who creates too much tumult to be a permanent partner. I never thought that The Only Living Boy in New York was my soul mate because he didn't swoop in and turn my life upside down, leaving me to reorder it in a new and better way like, say, Doug Funny. He just came into my life and shone a bright and flattering light on everything. He made me laugh, and he made me feel good, and he became the person whose opinion I most sought on any issue. I thought that we would make a good team, that we had the right similarities and the right differences to complement each other in a lasting way. I'm not so young anymore that I think love is enough. If love were, as the Beatles say, all you need, then I would be married to Doug Funny right now because we loved each other even though we weren't ultimately compatible. But with The Only Living Boy in New York, I thought we lined up in the right way. Now, I think we don't, and it just breaks my heart.
I want to talk to him about this because I've grown accustomed to talking to him about everything and also because it's my nature to talk everything to death. (I even have this blog so that once I've exhausted all my friends and relatives, I can continue to obsess about things to my heart's content.) But I think the time for me to talk is over, and if anyone is going to talk now, it has to be him. I've already told him what I want and how I feel, and as much as I would like to belabor the point and tell him I love him every day, it's not a good idea if he's not going to say it back.
I'm hurting now, but I know that deferring dealing with the pain will only make it worse when I inevitably have to confront it. (Heartbreak is like credit card debt that way.) I won't pretend that I'm not hopeful that withdrawing will, as I mentioned before, cause him to stop taking me for granted and embrace the possibility of our at least trying to be in a relationship with each other, but I can't allow those hopes to become too great.
I am drawing comfort from one thing right now. I love asking couples how they met, and a large number of the people I ask tell me that there was a period of separation in the relationship before they got back together and decided to get married. In other words, it often happens that people meet the right person at the wrong time, so you can never totally count someone out. The actress Carol Channing is 87 years old and married to her middle school sweetheart with whom she reconnected after he read the nice things she said about him in her biography. If you can reconnect with someone after 75 years, anything is possible.
Over the past 10 months, The Only Living Boy in New York has become my safety net. He's the person I go to with everything from the important to the banal. Beyond that, he's the person that I wish I was waking up next to every day. The problem is that while he comes to me with all of his issues from the big to the small, he doesn't seem to share my wish for us to be together all the time or we would probably be together all the time (or at least as much of the time as possible considering that we live in different cities). And the truth is that if you're in a relationship, it's a democracy, but the decision to begin or end a relationship is more of a totalitarian dictatorship. No matter how much I want a relationship to happen or what my feelings are, it's ultimately up to him because he knows how I feel and he's the hold-out. It makes me feel so small and meaningless, like what I want counts for nothing. I hate it.
In an old blog of mine, I talked about the nature and significance of soul mates, and I concluded that a soul mate is someone who moves the ball forward in a person's development but who creates too much tumult to be a permanent partner. I never thought that The Only Living Boy in New York was my soul mate because he didn't swoop in and turn my life upside down, leaving me to reorder it in a new and better way like, say, Doug Funny. He just came into my life and shone a bright and flattering light on everything. He made me laugh, and he made me feel good, and he became the person whose opinion I most sought on any issue. I thought that we would make a good team, that we had the right similarities and the right differences to complement each other in a lasting way. I'm not so young anymore that I think love is enough. If love were, as the Beatles say, all you need, then I would be married to Doug Funny right now because we loved each other even though we weren't ultimately compatible. But with The Only Living Boy in New York, I thought we lined up in the right way. Now, I think we don't, and it just breaks my heart.
I want to talk to him about this because I've grown accustomed to talking to him about everything and also because it's my nature to talk everything to death. (I even have this blog so that once I've exhausted all my friends and relatives, I can continue to obsess about things to my heart's content.) But I think the time for me to talk is over, and if anyone is going to talk now, it has to be him. I've already told him what I want and how I feel, and as much as I would like to belabor the point and tell him I love him every day, it's not a good idea if he's not going to say it back.
I'm hurting now, but I know that deferring dealing with the pain will only make it worse when I inevitably have to confront it. (Heartbreak is like credit card debt that way.) I won't pretend that I'm not hopeful that withdrawing will, as I mentioned before, cause him to stop taking me for granted and embrace the possibility of our at least trying to be in a relationship with each other, but I can't allow those hopes to become too great.
I am drawing comfort from one thing right now. I love asking couples how they met, and a large number of the people I ask tell me that there was a period of separation in the relationship before they got back together and decided to get married. In other words, it often happens that people meet the right person at the wrong time, so you can never totally count someone out. The actress Carol Channing is 87 years old and married to her middle school sweetheart with whom she reconnected after he read the nice things she said about him in her biography. If you can reconnect with someone after 75 years, anything is possible.
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