A woman’s only human

Journal Entry from March 13, 2010

For the second time in recent months I found myself so uncomfortable with my writing that I felt the need to remove it entirely from the face of the virtual world. I guess to some extent I felt that to pull my words back would give me the chance to re-assess where I’ve been – to give me the chance to figure out what the hell I was being less than truthful about. Because after all, this is an exercise in honesty. This time, however, things were a little bit different. There’s the fact that my truth started to involve someone else’s – someone whose circumstance need not be hashed out here. Then there’s the fact that the decisions I’ve been making haven’t been the least bit rational. Simply put, I’m incredibly embarrassed about where I’ve been turning the wheel lately. What’s that old saying about doing stupid things in the name of love?

Admittedly so, I fell hard for someone. Big surprise, no? Hear me out, though. I fell so hard that I actually considered the possibility of bearing his child someday. Let me guess, you’ve gone from rolling your eyes to listening intently, haven’t you? Me… the woman who swore she’d never have another child, has actually smiled at the thought of contributing another bit of human brilliance to this world. It’s biology speaking, of course. And I didn’t really realize how deeply we (especially women) are affected biologically until this very circumstance. It’s instinctual. Animal. But it wasn’t just the pull of mother nature playing a role here. It was a wonderful combination of two intellectual, spontaneous and energetic minds playing house – testing the waters of compatibility, if you will. And in my mind, every room in the house felt in order… cozy. And I truly believed that no circumstance could possibly stand in the way.

Circumstances.

I’ve been down this road before. So many times that I’ve begun to detest the word. But something was said to me by a friend, while we were shooting the shit about the confusing world of dating, that just might have given me the kind of perspective into the male mind that I’ve been lacking for so many years. We were talking about the game of cat and mouse – how men especially love to play – they love the challenge. But (and here’s the rub) they don’t know what to do once they’ve made the catch (his words, not mine). My thoughts went immediately to the cat with a freshly killed rodent on the front porch, batting it around to make damn sure it’s dead (or in the case of the egocentric, just for fun).

Then my thoughts went to my current circumstance. How thrilling the chase has been – how exciting and wonderful the idea of being with him has been. The knowledge that I was as clear and sure about my feelings toward him as I’ve ever been. So sure that I was willing to make one of the biggest mistakes of my life in an effort to make those circumstances disappear. But I failed to consider one important detail. I’m still lying on the front porch, aren’t I?

This reality isn’t new to me. The difference now is I have a little bit better of an understanding as to why I keep finding myself lying here. I spent years telling myself that I was the problem – that I was the reason men kept throwing up excuses. Maybe to some degree I am. But every situation – every human interaction – every relationship involves two. And in this perpetual game of cat and mouse, I have to say that I’m growing pretty damn tired of the stage in which I find myself currently. Shit or get off the pot, my loves. If the intention behind the “wait and see” portion of this game is just so you can make damn sure that the mouse ain’t going anywhere, then you’re wasting your time. I don’t know about the rest of the female population, but once I’m caught – I’m caught. And continuing to play the game does nothing but push me further and further away… self-fulfilling prophecy style.

It all boils down to this: If you want to be with me, then you’ll be with me. And if you’re intelligent, you’ll do so with your principles (and your balls) in tact.

(Title from “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man” by Aretha Franklin)

On Anonymity

Can I just start by saying that receiving an email that says “Someone is now following you” made me reflect on the dichotomy that has kept me from sharing what it is I need to be sharing here? The alternative being the current watered-down version for fear of who might be reading. I’ve never been one to truly worry about being judged by random strangers. We’re talking about a woman who wrote about some pretty self-incriminating subject matter back in the day, and had no qualms about it either. But the difference then was that my readers were, for the most part, disconnected from my everyday life. And while I appreciated being able to share my writing on my personal Facebook page, I realized that that audience wasn’t entirely appropriate. Taking a cue from my favorite blogger: Narcissist’s Blog, I started my own Facebook page, then stripped away most, if not all, evidence of who I am. For those whom I’ve invited here personally? I have no problem sharing with you what I intend to share in the future – you know me. Anyone who joins the ranks outside of that circle of trust, I will include wholeheartedly.

So why all the effort to slip behind the curtains? My stories need to be read… not me. You will relate. You will find solace in knowing that you’ve been down my road. You will be entertained. You will laugh. You will cry. You will find guidance, reassurance, and the knowledge that you’ve been on both sides of the fence. You will be able to accept who you are and who you come into contact with. But knowing me? That isn’t a requirement or even a recommendation.

Just enjoy.

The girl who couldn’t say no

Do you ever glance at your odometer and really take note of the miles? Not just the fact that you’ve accumulated almost 100K in the 2 years since you bought it, but also where those miles have taken you? I found myself on the way back from Austin this morning and noticed my little car had rolled over to 90K recently with very little fanfare. 92,000 miles? Where did the time and that distance take me? In that same moment “Dear Rosemary” by the Foo Fighters flooded through my speakers… “Truth ain’t gonna change the way you lie… youth ain’t gonna change the way you die.” And I cried. As hard as I’ve tried to change and make myself a better person, I find myself slipping back. I look back on the 10 years since I started writing – particularly the reason behind my decision to pick up the pen in the first place – and every time I have found myself in this space, it’s to deal with the fact that I am truly the kind of person who cannot say “no”. And I’m not talking in the illegal substances sense either.

I remember writing on my 35th birthday that I wanted to start slowing down and acting like an adult. I remember feeling really good about that desire and having confidence that I could, indeed, make it happen. Yet, I find myself quickly approaching my 37th, with a stomach churning in reflection of where those 2 years worth of “driving” have taken me. My six months of insane driving to and from Stone Oak I can chalk up to mere loneliness, but the rest of it? What the hell? Let’s put it this way… when your therapist looks you in the eye and says “that’s not normal, sweetheart” when she’s only been privy to a snippet of the entire 10-year journey, it makes you want to stop sharing all together for fear learning of how truly crazy you are.

My desire to write about my experiences has been as much about learning and growth as it has been about connecting with those who could relate, and maybe start a little community of heathens trying to pick up the pieces. But the more that desire to write takes over, the more I fear being judged, or worse yet, my children getting even a glimpse of where those miles have taken me. The fact is, the stories I have to share are the kind of stories I never want my girls to read and associate with their mother. Granted, I’d wish there were a way to use myself as an example of what not to do, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to have that happen. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about sheltering my children from reality. I want them to know that mistakes made are always an opportunity for change. I just feel like I’m living a lie sometimes and I hate myself for that. On the bright side, I know there’s hope for me. Each and every moment I’ve found myself in this position – this heap of self-loathing crap – I find a way to make something beautiful out of it and rise above. I suppose the key is going to be finding that moment when that beauty decides to leave and is replaced by something ugly and transient.

I’ve often thought that the key lies in the millions of words I’ve already written. Perhaps each time I’ve delved back into those words in various forms and venues, my reason for doing so was misguided. Maybe I need to search with the above in mind, that there is always a moment of darkness followed by a phase that brings me here – searching unflinchingly for a way to break the cycle. Something happens. After all, I’m not always an unthinking asshole. I know I’m a beautiful soul. I can accept complements about my depth of love for others and my ability to have incredibly meaningful friendships, because I know those are facts about me. They are innate. But I refuse to believe that the others can’t be killed off.

You’re impervious?

You know that moment when just a tiny bit of doubt creeps into your subconscious? It starts as just a speck. Tiny. Almost non-existent. But it’s there. You’ve felt it many times before. But you tell yourself that this time, your confidence will win the fight. You’re certain that any feelings of rejection or second-guessing that came before won’t this time because you’re in a better place. You’re impervious. No one and nothing can knock you down. But you’ve put yourself in this position by meticulously choosing how you think your relationships should look. By promising yourself that you really only want her for sex… or you really only want him for the friendship. Then reality hits and you were fooling yourself the entire time. What you really wanted was to just have someone.

Once upon a time there was a girl. We’ll call her Jill. Jill was a very strong-willed and intelligent woman (I know I said girl initially, but just roll with it) who happened to be in a really unhealthy relationship. One day, an acquaintance of Jill’s, we’ll call him Jack (creativity is lacking tonight as you can tell), reached out to Jill to see if she’d be interested in meeting him for coffee. There’s no doubt that Jill found Jack a bit intriguing, but being that she was in a committed relationship, she declined. He made a witty remark about waiting on the sidelines (more clever than stalker) and they kept in touch in a purely platonic way. Jack was very honest about his interest in Jill, but never pushed the issue and she liked that.

Time passed in this land of hills and pails of water, and before long Jill came to her senses and ended the aforementioned unhealthy relationship. It took her some time, but she eventually bounced back to life and for the first time Jack had the chance to see her energy and even commented on how much he liked it. Flirting ensued via text and phone, but there was never any great deal of pressure felt on either side to do anything about it. It was nice. Comfortable.

Eventually, the two made plans for a night together and what felt like the beginning of a clear-cut “fuck buddy” scenario. As an outsider looking in (more stalker than clever), the sex was incredible. And the next day had a very “ok it’s been great, time for you to go” feel to it. And they both seemed to be okay with that. There was zero weirdness. There was zero need for a phone call or a text. This was a first for Jill and she liked it.

After a visit with her therapist, Jill began to wonder about her approach to sex. Not the fuck-buddy part, but the fact that she rarely had a conversation with a sexual partner about STDs, birth control, etc. Jill’s approach had always been that as long as protection was used, that conversation wasn’t really necessary. Jill’s therapist was surprised at this and her surprise caught Jill off guard, mainly because Jill never really thought she was doing anything out of the ordinary, and the most recent person that this affected was Jack. So she felt obligated to drop him a text.

Jill: Do you think it was unnatural for us to just hop into bed without a conversation regarding STDs and birth control?
Jack: No silly! I’m clean, are you? Besides, I can’t have babies.
Jill: Well, I do have an STD, but I’m always safe. I’d never put another person at risk.

The conversation that followed via text was the most cool and understanding one Jill had ever had with a sexual partner regarding her STD. It was like she’d just told him what her shoe size was. Similar conversations with other sexual partners were very strained and humiliating. Jack… well… he was just laid back. Come to think of it, that’s how he seemed to approach everything.

More time passed and their communication was at the same level it had always been – not too much, not too little. She didn’t feel this overwhelming urge to hear from him, which again was a first for her. She’d always been told that the kind of guy who she didn’t feel like she had to hear from, would be a good one for her. And vice versa, of course.

Then something happened. It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly, but happen it did. If you’ve been there as many times as Jill has, maybe you’ve reached a point of knowing and can share your wisdom. Here’s the scenario going forward:

Jack sends Jill an unexpected and suggestive message to her work chat.
Jill doesn’t quite know how to respond, so she sends him a suggestive message via text.
Jack responds in kind saying he can’t wait for their next rendezvous.
Jill says Jack needs to get his ass into gear and make it happen.
Jack says “yes ma’am”.
…Aaaaand scene.

Nothing set in stone. No big deal. But the interest is apparent on both sides.

Until, a few days later Jill sends him a lighthearted message that she’ll be in his town on Saturday and he should put his money where is mouth is.

Jack doesn’t reply.

[Enter speck of doubt]

Jill sends another message a little later letting him know that she’ll be meeting some friends for drinks so maybe after?

Silence.

[Open Floodgates]

So why the silence? And why is her first assumption that he is playing games? But the million dollar question is… when did not hearing from him start to matter?

Giving the Digits

Once upon a time I gave my contact information out to someone I shouldn’t have. Before I knew it, I was receiving a multitude of communications via various methods that not only sent me flying into overwhelmed mode, but made me not want to respond at all. You’ve been there. I know you have. I’m even willing to bet that you’ve been on the giving side of this fence. Yes, there are times when we meet someone who just captures our attention and we can’t turn it off for even a second. And when they don’t respond, it makes us want them all the more, right? Again, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been there. It’s the equivalent of jumping up and down yelling “I’m right over here… notice meeeee!” And all it does is make you more and more vulnerable each and every time you do it… until you’re not only beating yourself up for waiting by the phone for a response, but you begin making the other person out to be an asshole for not keeping the communication going.

Which is why I find it interesting that we don’t keep this in mind when we’ve hopped the fence from overwhelmee to overwhelmer. The subject of my current state of overwhelmed (or I should say, my former state) is a guy who used to be a customer of mine. We found that we had a really great level of chemistry that went beyond shop talk and at his request, and against my better judgement, continued our line of communication off the record, so to speak. Almost immediately, the emails poured in and when I didn’t respond right away, he would take it personally and prey on my sensitive side. This side, by the way, is the one that put myself in his shoes and could easily feel the sting of being ignored or not worthy of someone else’s time. So I eventually gave him my phone number. Seriously, folks… I can see you all shaking your heads now… no need to say it. I’m sure you can guess what happens next.

Texts flood. Calls begin. And the guilt-ridden, sadly pathetic attempts to get me to respond multiply. I have to say, this was the first time I got a really good practice with telling someone who’s been in his shoes how it is. But, “Dude, just because I don’t respond, doesn’t mean I have no desire to” said a million different ways never quite got through to this guy until I finally had to come right out and tell him I couldn’t do it anymore. His texts and emails were becoming possessive of my time – this from someone I’d never even met.

It was pretty interesting considering another customer of mine had recently given me the following advice: Your heart is a gift, guard it. I can see where people, especially online, would take advantage of your sensitivity. In fact, this piece of wisdom was written on a sticky and staring me down on a daily basis. It applied to my life not only as it related to that man, but to the man who’d broken me down only a few months prior.

Simply put, I was beginning to put to practice this art of taking care of my own happiness first, rather than feeling the need to save everyone else from their own misery. This guy was miserable and he was looking to me for light and joy. There’s no doubt this has been my weakness most of my life. But I didn’t come here to get all philosophical or reflective, thankyouverymuch. I came here to write about the beat it like a dead horse approach.

Friends, it doesn’t work. Being in someone else’s face 24/7 is not going to get you where you want to be. I’m not talking about playing hard-to-get either. There is a nice middle ground between being annoyingly available and having a superiority complex. What I’ve learned from being on both sides of the fence is that there is definitely something to be said for that quiet space in-between dialogue or physical contact. Think about how you feel when you haven’t seen one of your favorite movies in a while. It might not be on your mind all the time, but when it does pop in, your heart races and you connect. But there’s not this overwhelming need to watch it constantly. You get your fill, put it back in the box, and move on to your everyday business. However, if said movie were on constant repeat on HBO, you’d better believe you’d be steering clear of that channel.

My therapist once told me that the person who is going to work best with me is the one who I don’t feel a constant and persistent need to be in touch with, and who doesn’t feel a constant and persistent need to be in touch with me. I would think that should be the case for everyone, but I’m no professional, so I’ll refrain from offering you that same guidance. What I will say is, just chill.

So whatever happened to the subject of this entry? Well, I went quite a while without hearing from him. Yesterday, however, I received an email that he was clearing out his contacts and wanted to wish me and my family well and thanked me for my assistance when he needed it. All I’ll say is, I find it amusing that the subject of his email was “clearing” and that he used various references to “deleting” and “clearing” in the body of the message itself. I have to admit that the bitch in me wants so badly to respond “just do it already!”