Every time I breath the word “so” I am haunted by images of actually having the nerve to remind Mr. Grey that there should be some discussion of our pseudo-relationship. But then, after I practically beg him to come over for sex (don’t judge me!) because my day at work was so horrific, and he not only goes food shopping for said dinner ingredients, but then prepares them (ok, so the dirty dishes are piled up in my sink at 4AM)…I sort of was forced to lose sight about all the What Ifs I torture myself with.
Like, what if I lean in and kiss him? Would he push me away? We aren’t DATING. We are just HANGING OUT. Part of the reason: He is afraid to get close to me because everything he gets close to turns to shit.
“So,” how do I change this? This is a behavioral pattern…me of all people should understand how to deal with this.
Short of holding his hand through the entire dating process (I wish I held his hand through the process….blah) there is not more I can do. My daughter is enamored by him, I am like pleading with the love Gods to just let him see what he has with us, and I’ve told him point blank that I trust him…which in my head is just as good as dropping the L-Bomb.
What do my girlfriends say I should do? Collectively, tell him.
What do my guy friends say I should do? What is the point of talking to him about this, you guys are already dating. But – my retort – we are not dating. We are casually seeing each other, falling madly in love until one person is either going to FRIEND ZONE the other OR we are going to realize that this is too real and he cannot handle it.
I have this uncanny ability to make men run for the hills. It’s like I repair them and then once they are ready to leave the nest, they fly free. None. of them. return. This isn’t some spin on a made-for-TV-romance where at the end we realize we are in love and run off in to the sunset…I’ve made that clear. My life is < romantic comedy and more like a > tragedy. Without all the dying and such.
I need chocolate to even finish the idea that it is February 11, 2015 and I am potentially looking at celebrating this holiday (one that I ordinarily for the last 16 years have loathed) with sparkly pink cupcake icing and made-from box brownies with perforated class Valentines’ day cards surrounding my coffee table with marker smeared kid’s names all over the place! I feel like the actors in the Snickers commercials….you get irrational when you are discussing your pseudo-relationship for the umpteenth time!
That’s just it. If this was some fluke or some unoriginal plot for my life, I wouldn’t be so frustrated. But this is how it always goes! I take on a guy who I know has potential to last a lifetime. I then notice he is damaged. He feels safe with me, because you all do, and entrusts me to share with me his deepest, darkest secrets. Shit, I had him at his weakest, put band aids on his ego as best I could, and stroked him back to health. Need. More. Chocolate. On second hand…checking out my gut and watching this repulsive commercial about this chicks new “guilty pleasure” and discussing icing flavored lip gloss…I should skip the…Hershey bar?
So, the chocolate Gods hate me…or do they? I mean, really, strawberries dipped in chocolate syrup and cinnamon is way healthier than the Hershey bar I was going to scarf down. Thankfully/Unfortunately, it was a little oxidized and nobody really wants death by chocolate.
Like I was venting about….the pseudo-relationship is something that I am skilled in. I practically designed it. Like Steve Jobs invented Apple…I invented the idea of a fictitious relationship. One with all of the qualities of a real one…you know, one where you are expected to attend all family functions, holidays, and the like with said artificial significant other. One where you are expected to come over on weekday and weekend nights for dinner and minor cuddling/sex sessions. One where you are expected to interact with those closest to the other half, including but not limited to children, family, loved ones, neighbors, friends, etc. One where you speak to each other via texts, phone calls, e-mails, and social media recaps, on a minute-by-minute basis. One where you are thoughtful to the other, remember minute details, and remind the other person that they are actually a presence in the forefront of their mind…but without a title.
I was never even one for a title. Never! I wasn’t the girl that wanted to get married. I wasn’t the girl that when she was knocked up wanted to be engaged. I wasn’t the girl who after I was engaged I needed to be married. I was the girl who when married kept my name! I was the girl who felt awkwardly uncomfortable wearing my ring! And referring to the man who knocked me up as my husband! I was the girl who was more comfortable referring to said husband as her ex, discussing the stipulations of the divorce, and reminding women everywhere that you were your OWN person BEFORE meeting the man of your dreams and that NOBODY should compromise their identity for another gender. But, then I met Mr. Grey. And Elle Grey sounds delightful.
And there you have it folks. I am not anti-love, or anti-romance…I am anti-bullshit. And being in a pseudo-relationship with someone I actually want to be in a real relationship with is driving me mad.
And what’s the difference? What is the difference! The difference, ladies and gentleman, if we are something than we can become nothing. If we are nothing, than we are just co-existing, with I might add, all of the perks of being something. Sometimes becoming something is more difficult than the thought of being alone. The reason for this: fear of turning anything one touches to shit.
Mission desensitize commence.
Mission dyslexia commence. Good night.
[2/11/2015]