7 posts tagged “relationships”

A while back, on my old, deleted, blog, I wrote a post titled "The Man-Tier." The queue included five generalizing titles including (and this is the condensed version):

6.) Ugly. Too repulsive to touch with a ten foot pole being held by someone else's hands.

5.) Cute. The boy next door who's as sweet as apple pie.

4.) Hot. Model gorgeous with a nauseating ego.

2.) Handsome. Take him home to mom type because he's the stuff dreams are made off.

1.) Sexy-Ugly. An imperfect beauty with confidence oozing from every pore, and his unspoken "it" factor makes him irresistible.

Though any man could fit within these categories I failed to mention the one enigma women chose to have a love-hate relationship with . . . The asshole. This guy can throw you for a loop and you just might end up loving it. He's stuck in your head like an earworm but he ignores you to your breaking point, a smartass with an attitude of superiority, so so selfish; all the reasons why you should walk away but then, oh, but then, he keeps hope alive. He replies to your messages on the ninth hour with the right response. Every once in while he lets you enlighten him with a random factoid to give you a shinning moment. Time is suddenly cleared from his busy schedule, for you. As soon as you think he's predictably inconsiderate he does something sweet and thoughtful. And there you are hooked on crack. That smidgen of approval you crave from some jerk that's not worth the effort keeps you coming back for more because you feel like you've earned it. He makes you work for it. If you're the kind of girl that receives compliments (whether it's on your brains, body, or entire package) on a regular basis you're easily bored. A diet of rare, and what appears to be, genuine affection from someone you're interested in can make a woman do things she never would: let him getaway with shit you're sure you're above, miss the sex you thought you could do without, even beg reconciliation when things end and you have no idea why.  

It's a lucrative pussy business when it comes to being an asshole. They know just how to work you, emotionally and physically. It's a science some have mastered with little effort. They're frighteningly clever and resourceful and manipulative and they get what they want as long as you let them. Men who live in the asshole realm like to play. Beware. They are out there, and they can make you fall without warning.

It's all about the game.   

Because my stuff was still at his place I had a reason to contact him since the end. (I know, I know, chastise me later) . . . anyway, he's been very good about it all. Whatever response he gives me he reminds me that I'm not being a pest and that he loves me but wants to give me time to figure out what I want, and shit. It was really hard to keep from begging myself back into his arms. (Seriously, today I pretty much gave up a little and screamed a reconciliation. He wouldn't have any of it.) Now, it's official I will not see him in the very near future. (We sorted the getting of my stuff back via e-mail.) There's no telling when, really because we don't frequent the same spots, take the same trains, work less than 16 blocks (including 3 cross town ones) away from each, and live in opossite sides of the city. There is absolutely no chance of a run in. A relief, maybe? No clue.

What am I getting at?

Since not seeing or technically hearing from him every day is a little easier. I'm calming down a bit. I'm not bursting into tears. I think he's helping me transition by not giving into a brat and letting me run to him (because I would, right now, in fact, if  he told me so -- bad I know). So I'm mending. He's slowly fading. Yes, I miss him but I'm getting less desperate. (If you saw me in the beginning you would know what I'm talking about.) Thank whoever for my ladies, without them my sanity would have surely been lost.

Is it a defense mechanism to see the flaws in the product you own? Is it in your best intrest to take another look? You may have thought you inspected it carefully at the store and found its imperfections charming, but now, at home, it looks different. Whatever it is that you are looking at is not what you expected and you want to return it but it's too unique a find to throw back into the pool.

Is being in a relationship with all the trimmings worth the hassle once uncovering buried treasure left underground for a reason? What do you do with gold that's cursed?

K astounded me with her need to research everyone via net. She discovered too much out of her comfort zone, but it seemed to be a drug. I remember thinking how much I wouldn't want to know, because the further you dig the more dirt you'll find. The Laws of Attraction is a motherfucker.

Curiosity got the better of me and I am being punished accordingly.

There's something to say about a guy who likes to put his girl on display. Just yesterday I left for work in a charcoal mini, black boots, black tights, and a black satin blouse. He not only helped me pick out the outfit but he also paid for it (minus the boots and tights). I got the usual hoots and hollers and some stalker action. It was an eventful day in the clothes of a hooker.

Walking down the sidewalk together one evening a random dude with dreadlocks yelled at him with a grin: "Aren't you the lucky rascal, you!" We laughed about it and I still bring it up from time to time as a joke, but he never once denied it's validity. It's a good feeling to feel like one half of a relationship. There are moments where one feels more like a tumor than another half. Luckily neither one of us can claim to feel this way. He's the smarter, older, man dating a fun twenty-something. Even though our relationship isn't as shallow as I've just described it's easy for everyone to see it that way. There is a significant age gap. And J said it best when she called me his "little red Corvette."

But, hey, I'll take it. I'm going to embrace my youth while the gettin' is good.

. . . good thing I have a good personality too or else I'd be screwed.

My fingers are raw from all of the peeling my skin has been going through, which sucks when there's a ton of nerve endings there. I have no idea if it's the dry air or a natural defect but, me no likey.

Now that the random thought is out of the way we can get down to business.

It's become clear to me the shift in a relationship. What was once a friendship is now a 'people who just know each other' situation. This is hard to explain but I'll attempt it no less: A friendship in which you would share intimate, lengthy, details of your life with another suddenly becomes stale and fractured to the point where you downgrade them to text messaged conversations (an empty attempt at mending fences). Something cataclismisc (but not quite traumatizing) happened; the broken relationship is no one's fault but neither wants to fix it either. It is, in fact, a limbo. You don't count these people out so you'll check on them every once in a while to see if they're alive for an opportunity to exploit them. You can stand the sight of them and yet you wouldn't think it necessary on a regular basis. Maybe they're on your Christmas card mailing list, but so is everyone else, and hey, you don't mind pretending you give a damn. You just know they exist and that's about as far as you care to go.

So what do you do about this? Why put up a facade? Because it doesn't take much effort to do so and you never know when they'll come in handy. It's like one of those things you put in a shoebox under your bed you pleasantly stumble on to one day while you're cleaning. It's a "Huh, I almost forgot about this thing . . ." epiphany.

And hey, if you don't need it you know exactly where to put it: in the "just in case" pile.

Insurance policies, people . . . good to have.

. . .that I am playing games with myself.