Thanks again to all of you who responded either publicly or privately to my previous pondering post, Why? Those of you who don't normally read comments might want to go back and see what was contributed, as of course I'm not the only one of us dealing with these issues.
In fact, I had to go back to the original post myself, before starting to write this one, because I wasn't quite sure what the question was. Why what? I was rather surprised to realize that my question wasn't why was I doing what I was doing, but rather why did I feel anger in my behaviour - almost a sense of vengeance - and why did it make me feel like crying.
I honestly don't know how this post will end.
The advantages of my arrangements are of course quite clear. I always choose wrong. I always get hurt. I always expect more than I'm going to get, I always fantasize that there will be more, that there is more, and then accept way less than I should because I'm so desperate.
Oh, this girl is really, really desperate to be loved.
So yeah, we all know my arrangements make sense. I have built a wall around my emotions that's 2 miles high. No more messing up.
The philosopher and I thought we had protected ourselves. I declared that all I wanted was writing - though my concern was really more for physical protection. I was afraid of diseases and afraid of getting killed. The philosopher thought he was being really smart and went looking for electronic erotic amusement 250 miles away. That should keep things under control. Right?
Ha.
I fell.
Hard.
I fell in love with someone I'd never met.
I ignored all the warning signs and fell in love.
As for him . . .
OK. Here's the big admission. An admission to him, too. You know how I used to refer to him as "the man who owns and loves me"? Well . . . I may have been hallucinating. I don't know. It was in May nearly 2 years ago, after another of the times that he tried to break up with me. We were talking, late at night, working our way back, and . . . he murmured something . . . you see? I'll manufacture hope out of nothing. Out of passing breaths over an unclear phone line into tired, aging ears . . .
I thought . . .
I thought he said "I love you, kitten."
Very softly.
He may not have said it.
Hell, he probably didn't say it.
But I thought he did.
And I froze.
I stopped breathing.
I . . .
Those four words that he did or did not say hung there in the air around me and I was afraid to reach out and touch them for fear they would burst like the first tentative bubble a child blows through a wand.
So I didn't ask him to repeat it.
Even when you're sure,
you don't ask someone to repeat
those four words.
I chose to believe them.
From what had been said before,
from what seemed to exist
between me and this man
I never had met,
it didn't seem all that unlikely.
So I chose to believe.
And I whispered back
even more softly
my own four words
that he probably didn't hear.
My own four words . . .
"I love you, too."
A whisper.
A prayer.
And then gone.
Well, now I don't have to worry about any misunderstandings. I can't delude myself. These two guys, these two men with other involvements, they won't tolerate any threats to their lives, they've got their armour and they've got their rules. The rules are so clear, and the systems so clear, that even if my own emotions start pulling at the chains, my doms will smack me back into line so fast I'll never think of rebelling again. They will protect me against myself. I can't deny that there might be fantasies, but I will be very clear that they are only fantasies.
Why the anger, then?
I'm still not totally sure.
Maybe because this is what I'm reduced to.
Maybe because I'm afraid this is all I'll ever have.
Maybe because I took a big chance, and made myself very vulnerable, and had my heart broken, not by deliberate cruelty, but because I insisted on seeing possibilities that I was told again and again weren't there.
I can't be angry at the philosopher.
I can only be angry at myself.
And why the tears?
Because I fear that this is all I will ever have. Either nothing or mind games or a quick fuck and then he's gone. And then I'll be old and there will be no one. It might take another 20 years but eventually I will look 60 and who will want to exchange wild e-mails with a woman who is tired and wrinkled and grey? Who will want to run over at lunchtime to fuck a woman who is tired and wrinkled and grey? And who - really, tell me, who? - who will want to love and cherish a woman who is tired and wrinkled and grey and who has fucked up every relationship she's ever had?
I'm doing what I do with anger, anger at myself, because it's my only option, because I've settled for so little all along, settled for little crumbs all along, because I thought so little of myself all along that I feared that crumbs were all I could hope for. And it turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's all I got and all I will get but at least now the rules are clear.
And I cry because, whether I ever heard them before, I never again or ever will hear those four whispered words.
I love you, kitten.
If I ever heard them at all...
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6 comments:
oh honey! hugs to you!! I truly believe this is why women need girlfriends - sexual and emotional, friends and lovers.
For me, long-distance phone calls, emails and online texts are never enough. and yet, even with all of that and face to face intimate contact, married men could never satisfy my needs and wants.
crumbs are that - crumbs. not morsels of any sustenance, but tiny pieces, bits, stragglers that don't make it with the whole portion to the mouth. and crumbs, like lint, must be picked up, or brushed off, or stepped on, or gathered up as the last option of whether to starve, survive on crumbs, or simply find another source of nourishment.
You have done nothing wrong. You have attempted to survive on crumbs. Only the tiniest creatures, mice and its brethren, can survive on crumbs. We as women require food, love, sex, laughter and friends.
You deserve to feast, and dine on all that life has to offer. is there a reason why you choose to starve yourself? is there a reason why you feel you do not deserve to dine from the banquet of life?
love isn't about the way that you look. looking like you're 60 or any other age cannot be the reason that someone does or doesn't love you-- if it is, then they aren't worth loving. you are so much more than extra-pointy nipples and a youthful visage. you need to be loved for what is inside, and what is inside only grows and develops, it doesn't decay.
i think that's important to say. and i know it's hard, but maybe you have to start loving *yourself* for more than what you look like or what you can do. love yourself for who you ARE. because who you are is entirely lovable. i know that's true.
i fell in love with a man i had never met...his words on the screen spoke to something deep down inside of me that was crying for release...
i flew across the oceans in the bowels of a steel bird and the dream came true...for a while...and then back to the dreams and hopes and wishes and longings...
and then i flew to his side a second time and for three months we were inseperable...
once more i had to return home...
in the past month he flew through the skies to be with me, on my turf, in my little corner of the world...but in the end he had to leave too...
and now the longing remains but the hopes are dashed...neither of us could see a light at the end of the tunnel any longer...it all became too much, too hard...
so you see OG, i think we share similar pain in some ways...
you are an amazing soul, and someone will surely love you for that. someone who can be present in your present, rather than someone in the mists of the crystal-ball future.
it will happen for you, for sure. and for me.
but for now, we do what we have to do in each moment to get by...to keep putting one foot in front of the other. breathe in, breathe out...rinse and repeat...
i wish you fortitude and peace.
Appearance means so little when it comes to love. Sure, physical attraction is important to an extent, but it really means nothing when one is given the opportunity to fall in love with your personality. Even if you still have your teenage youthful appearance at the age of 64, it’s still not worth sticking around with someone that is only in it for your beauty. If that happens, you’ll just get hurt in the end. You’ll always have the desire for something more if that is all that the relationship is based on. I think the crumbs will only relieve that for a short while (I told you, I’m a pessimist :) ).
I have a hard time believing that you fucked up every relationship that you have ever been in. Even if one is the catalyst, it still takes two to end a relationship. Give yourself some credit :) I’m still making my way through your posts, but I can already tell that you’re an amazing person. You’ve got a lot to offer.
It's amazing how strongly personalities can be shown through words over the internet. I'm just starting to realize that it's possible to fall for someone online. So, even if you've never met, it can still be genuine. Perhaps not as fulfulling as you hope, but it can still be genuine.
It’s alright to let that anger flood you for a little while. It’s good that you’re acknowledging that it’s there. Just don’t let it hold you back.
You’ll hear those four words again. I’m sure of it :)
oh, cutesy pah, with your self- denigrating name and your smart brain, it's so nice to have you here. women need girlfriends... it's absolutely true. and i do have friends... though only one of my in the flesh female friends knows anything about this side of my life other than that i have (or have not) this heartbreaking thing with the philosopher, whom they like a lot. but sexual girlfriends? sigh... another of my failures...
meg, i do know that love isn't about how we look, though the outward can stand in the way of the inner connection, which is why i like starting over the internet. and after all, my demon muse said i was beautiful when he first met me. and the philosopher said he preferred round women. and i believe them.
but when i'm old? and men my age don't have the energy i need? and i don't have the energy i need?! and i'll be alone. it's as simple as that. alone and broke. with friends but alone, except for, by then, a new set of cats and my archive of correspondence with the philosopher and my demon muse who valued me and gave me things no one ever did. and who, like everyone else, one way or another, are not available.
period.
weirdgirl, thank you so much for joining the conversation. and i suppose we should be grateful for the connections we did make, for the little we did have, for the glimpses of something wonderful.
thank you for sharing your broken heart with me, though it is sad that it is something that we share. i fear that i've been spoiled - though certainly meg found real love after having such an amazing owner as Andrew, even though they are now struggling with a change in status.
i know i'm going through a hard time. and in fact the sadist knows it, too, and despite his general refusal to make nice, he does know what to say to remind me that eh treasures me and that i offer something no one else does - and, of course, being the egotist that he is, that no one but he truly appreciates me.
always good to hear, no?
oh it's true, Lauren, i didn't fuck up my relationships all by myself. it was always a cooperative effort. and even if i had been outrageously stable emotionally, the philosopher, for whatever reasons of his own, would not have been able to handle a relationship. if we pretend that this relationship has been going on for 2 years, which is a great bit of fantasizing, then it has far outlasted anything else he has had.
yes. a relationship over the internet CAN be genuine. but it does have to survive the next step - where the problem is not so much perhaps whether you still like/love each other when you meet, but whether you can overcome the hurdles of practicalities.
big hurdles.
still, despite the pain, would i rather to have never met the philosopher?
no way.
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