hard pill to swallow: there are some things that are not meant for you. you will meet people that are not willing to stay. there will be times that you will fail. but don’t be discouraged because alongside, you are meant to be something, you will meet people that will stay, and most importantly, you will get better.
You know, I really am done with this. I'm tired of it. He's made it very clear that I am a plaything, a friend of convenience. And I really don't want to do this anymore, at all.
‘I was so alone and I owe you so much.’
But I was here for the porn. Sigh. Well whatever, I'll find another blogging site, as I do find it cathartic.
MC: “Hey Karen, do you know how to remove a password on a document?”
Me: “What kind, Word or pdf?”
MC: “Word.”
I google it.
Me: “Go to File, then Protect Document–”
MC: “Wait wait wait. Did you just google it?”
Me: “Yeeees?”
MC: “I thought you just knew.”
Me: “I google like 90 percent of the questions you ask me.”
MC: “Well I could do that! But I thought you knew! My faith in you is shattered! I’ll never ask you a question again!”
Me: “…….Ok, so click Protect Document…”
Also he brought in his guitar today and he and J played over lunch and really his wife is the luckiest woman on the planet. Jesus he’s sexy. He rolled up his sleeves and everything. And he has such massive, beautiful hands…
AND he sang "Happy Xmas." And my panties melted away.
“We have a plan to top it. And I do think our plan is devastating. We’ve practically reduced our cast to tears telling them the plan… we’re probably more excited that we’ve ever been about Sherlock,” Moffat told reporters asking if he thought the next season could beat season three’s epic run.
Gatiss chimed in later that night: “We’re going to try to take it somewhere we’ve never been before — and I don’t mean outer space. It will be challenging place to go. We always start with a re-introduction that builds toward a darker climax — we might just be going darker [from the outset]. We got a very, very good set of ideas.”
Narrator: "They did not, in fact, have a very, very good set of ideas."
(I’ve reminded MC of about a half dozen tasks he needs to do for the day, after he’s come in late. Apparently he had a doctor’s appointment I didn’t know about, which is fine, except I was anxious at his non-appearance and fretted about all morning. Anyway…)
Me: “…Oh and you need to input the Prometric files for me to do the transcripts, please.”
MC: “Oh right, I hadn’t even done that.”
Me, thinking of last week: “That was just my gentle way of reminding you. I try not to nag or anything.”
MC: “No no, I need the reminder. What would I do without you, Karen?”
Me: “You’d probably be much happier.”
MC, under his breath after a few beats: “I don’t know about that.”
Me, silently: Oh my god, do I make you happy?
Today I learned MC studied kung fu for five years as a teenager and it damn near killed me. And he was so proud of it too.
“See,” he crowed, “you’ve known me for a year and didn’t know that about me!”
“I did not,” I said, imagining him in that cute robe thingy, all sweaty, grappling with another guy. “Tell me more.”
Christ this man will be the death of me. Hate that wife. Deep breaths. He would never go for me anyway. He finds me unattractive and annoying. Don’t be delusional.
I mean, go ahead and openly ogle him. Not my fault if he bends over to get something off the floor, or leans back and spreads his legs while we have a casual debate, or grows that silly little scruffy beard. *frustrated moan*
Also today is my birthday!
OMG Lapdog is quitting! After all that butt licking, all that smary dick sucking, breast feeding off Idiot Boss all year--he fucks her over! And he just got that promotion she wanted for him. She has made him totally indispensible. Who is she going to rely on now? He is the foundation of her shit shanty. AND M quit. I hate to see her go, as she is a good friend to me, but she can do so much better. She gave no notice, just said she wasn't coming back together. Hard times for Idiot Boss! Mmmmm, delicious tears!
(I have put together two boxes for shipping. Because I am afraid I've slipped another disc in my back, I don't want to carry them to the mailroom, so I ask MC to do it. When I return from lunch, the boxes have not yet been moved.) Me: "Hey, MC, just a gentle reminder to take those boxes down." MC: "I know, I know." Me: "I don't want to nag, just reminding you." MC, annoyed: "I was going to do it, you don't have to remind me." Me: "I wouldn't, but last time you forgot a box and I didn't say anything, and so it went out a day late, so I thought I'd remind you this time." MC, over his shoulder on the way to the kitchen: "Oh great, so now I am responsible for the things you choose to say." Me, to myself: "Holy shit that is an argument you have with a wife, not with a coworker."
Back home after Thanksgiving at my sister’s place. It was fairly tolerable, but boy does Sis have issues. She throws pity parties daily and is always “poor me, I have no friends, I hate my job, my daughter doesn’t love me, woe woe woe.” She’s insufferable.
The breaking point came Thursday night when I made an ugly comment about her dog. It’s one of those tiny, nasty Chihuahua mixes, and it hates Niece. It snarls and growls whenever she comes near. Now, because my sister is a terrible mom, she not only keeps that animal but clearly favors it. Sis is one sick fuck.
So the damn dog growls and lunges at Niece, snatching a half eaten roll from her hand. Niece just laughs and keeps walking, but I am aghast, so I say something like, “Why do you keep that thing around?” I mean, if it was me, the first time that dog growled at Niece, I’d dropkick it in to oblivion.
Sis goes off on my “incredibly personal insult” and sobbingly declares, “This dog is all I have!”
And I just want to roundhouse kick her in the face, because, excuse me? Here we are to celebrate a holiday in your beautiful home, playing with your amazing daughter, eating a delicious dinner before your husband goes to work at his fulltime, secure job with benefits. And that gross rat-faced dog is “all you have?”
So Mom goes off on her and I quickly exit the scene, although later Mom also admonishes me, which I think is wrong and unfair, but hey, story of my life. I am always to blame for Sis’s dysfunctional sensitivity and insecurity.
The dog could have BIT that baby. But yeah, no, I’m the bad guy. Fucking shit.
So Sis has serious mental issues, and she’s going to totally fuck up Niece, and I can’t do anything about it. It is so sad. But I am not responsible for Sis and her choices. Her life is her life. I am not going to carry her.
Anyway. Really, aside from that, it was an ok visit. Dad mostly behaved, and I mostly behaved. We decorated the outside of the house (Sis did not, because she’s a lazy fat fuck). We had lots of food, but I think I did ok, eating wise. Mom felt the need to point out everything BIL ate, which was a shit ton of food. Yes, Mom, I know he is also a disgusting fat slob. Yes, if he keeps eating that way, he won’t live to be 30. We can only hope!
And I had lots of fun with Niece. We played with play dough, colored, and ran laps around the house, with me sometimes chasing her, and her sometimes chasing me. She is still very interested in books and balls, and I can get her to count to five. She also really likes puzzles, and we played with her big push car outside when it was warm.
It was fun, and she is cute. But, she is a toddler, so there were some temper tantrums. She’s willful and it’s hard to get her to eat. She was obsessed with the cupcakes Mom brought for my birthday, and threw a huge tantrum on Friday night because she wanted (another) one. I was horrified, watching her roll on the floor and throw things, but Mom just laughed.
“Listen to that fake cry!” she said. “So fake.”
“I can’t tell. How do you know she hasn’t hurt herself?”
“Her cries all sound different. This one is very fake.”
And sure enough, her fit stopped, and her face wasn’t red and her eyes weren’t wet. She just looked pouty, and Mom cackled. “See? You little faker! This isn’t my first rodeo, you can’t fool me.”
So although I really had fun playing with Niece, I realized that I am absolutely, 100 percent, completely totally unabashedly certain I do not want kids, ever. I just can’t handle it. The kid absolutely consumes your life and dominates all of your attention. She rules the roost. Every doorway has a baby gate. You can’t use half the kitchen, because every cabinet and drawer within her reach must be kept empty or baby proofed. The beautiful built-in bookshelves in the den are covered in chickenwire, else she pulls everything off the shelves. She controls everything on the TV. And you just have to watch her so closely, and do everything for her. Endless laundry, endless baths, endless cleaning, endless cooking. And she supplies endless noise, endless messes, endless energy, endless drama. I watched my mom nimbly take up Thanksgiving dinner, dancing around Niece who ran under her feet the entire time. I watched Niece kick Mom in the face during a diaper change. I watched Niece throw her plate of mac and cheese against the wall and scream.
There is no way I want that. Ever. No man on this planet could convince me to have a kid. Nothing is ever going to change my mind.
Yeah, Niece gave me sweet smiles and hugs. Her giggle is incredible. Watching her intently focus on her puzzle pieces is amazing. And when she cuddles with Mom on the couch to watch a movie, Mom looks so content, so happy.
But no. No way. That is not the life choice for me. If you want kids, have them. But my uterus is not available. My tits are for show, not work. My home is exactly the way I want it, and I won’t change it for others. My life is mine and no one else’s.
So yeah. Typical holiday.
Traffic was atrocious coming home; it poured rain across the entire state for the full seven hours. But it was a relief to be home in my quiet space with my cats and my books and my bed.
Tomorrow, back to work, bleh. I have random odds and ends I need to do, bits and pieces of in progress projects that are held up by others. It will be nice, though, to see MC, and I hope M is in a better mood.
Tonorrow night, and next Monday night too, I have a ticket for an informal lecture as part of this series Profs and Pints. It’s at a bar in Dupont, so I will metro in to the city and walk a few blocks. I am trying to go out, to do things. I don’t know if I will manage to talk to people, but I am going to give it a try. Tomorrow’s subject is race and evolution.
Tuesday is my birthday. Blargh, whatever. I told M I don’t want to do anything. Secretly I hope MC remembers, although he won’t. My Idiot Boss’s birthday is the day after mine, so I am sure she will come over and blather about it. I don’t want anyone to acknowledge it, just him! Last year he was the only one who knew for some reason (a list of everyone’s birthdays is in the kitchen, but I don’t know what prompted him to look at it), and he came over to where I was sitting–I had stupidly been moved to the other quad for a few weeks so I wasn’t with my team–and he asked, quietly, “Is today your birthday?” When I said yes he said, “Happy birthday,” all softly and earnestly, and he winked, and I swooned and came a little, because I am that tightly wound.
Where was I going with this?
Anyway, Sis gave me a lovely photo collage of Niece reading. Dad gave me $500, which I will put toward Iceland debt, or Christmas, or maybe Peru. (Peru is in jeopardy but I don’t want to discuss that right now.) He also gave me an ugly Christmas sweater with a cat on it, which I found quite funny and will legit wear to work. Mom forgot her gift and was very upset about it, though I assured her it didn’t matter and she could mail it later.
32. Getting to be an old maid.
So yeah, there’s a fairly complete update of life right now. I may take a nap now, just because I can.
I had the most charming dream about House and Wilson last night. In college, I loved House, and obviously shipped House/Wilson. But when Lisa Edelstein took over and ruined it by having House bang Cuddy, I dropped out. But it was a sweet dream. They were openly in a relationship but it was soft and slow. They had separate apartments (because House needs lots of space) but spent time together. A lot of sweet hugging and comforting and snogging. A nice dream! In a separate dream, I caught a squirrel, bathed it, and let it go. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Life continues to go suspiciously well for me. I say suspiciously, because I am always suspicious when things are going well, because I expect at any moment for things to go to shit. Things have been difficult for so long, but I continue to feel pretty damn good these days.
Work is meh. Boring. Not much going on. But I enjoy MC's company, and I like talking to M and Queen. I help MC with his work, because I'm a chump. I read, play games, find things to do (aka, spend money). Apply for other jobs, lol. No luck yet, but there are ads out there. I know January and February are the big months for hiring, and with this being the holiday season I'm not totally surprised I'm getting no nibbles, but I'm still a bit discouraged. At least I'm employed, for now, and hopefully will continue to be until I choose to switch to a new place.
M was giving me a bit of grief about it yesterday. "Are you sure you can go?" she pushed, a bit snottily.
"What? Are we talking about MC?"
"No."
"Well then what the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, well, I guess it is MC."
I was nonplussed. "Yes. It will hurt, but I'm not delusional."
And I'm not. I feel like I spend less time dwelling on him and fantasizing. Not totally eliminating the fantasizing, yet, but working on it. I do enjoy making him laugh though. This week has been pretty chill and we've had fun, and I got some big, genuine laughs out of him a couple of times. Makes me laugh, too. Once he referred to me as "Miss Thompson," I can't remember what we were prattling on about, and I absently corrected him, "It's Admiral Thompson." A very old joke from an old friend I don't see anymore, and something I haven't thought about in years. Got a big laugh out of him, though, I think because it was so unexpected and I said it so confidently.
Our idiot Big Boss made us pick what Thanksgiving dish we were, and explain why we were that dish. MC suggested I be the salt shaker. I ran with it, but Big Boss didn't find it funny. MC sure did. "I didn't mean for you to actually say that," he admonished. "You could've also gone with the cranberry sauce, being all sour and everything."
He knows me like no one else. Because he knows I'm all bark and no bite, and I'm all gooey and sensitive inside. And I don't mind him knowing, for some reason.
Another time he gave me an email list to contact, and one of the people on there was incorrect. I was at first very upset about contacting the wrong person, then I got over it. We kept talking about the email, then I read to him the person's response, and he started getting upset about it.
"Wow," he said, "that is kind of awful. She didn't win the scholarship, then she gets this email calling her a previous winner, now she's assuming she's getting money, and then she really doesn't...." He looked genuinely distressed. "I probably ruined her whole day."
"So what are you going to do now, Brain?" I deadpanned, which snapped him out of it. I've learned we can't both have the same emotion on something. One of us has to be upset, the other a cool cucumber. But we can switch moods as the day goes on, or the hour, or the conversation. It's a nice flow.
I saw my psychiatrist on Monday and she was very pleased with how well I've been doing, especially that I took a "spontaneous" vacation with little planning. "That is so important for your anxiety," she kept saying, which is weird because I rarely think of my anxiety or of myself as an anxious person. Peru, though, will definitely require more planning. Now my psychiatrist just admonishes me about human contact: "We just need to get you a partner now," she keeps saying. "You cannot keep isolating yourself from other people. You must make friends."
Blegh. Human contact. Relationships. That shit is hard.
I'm sure by now everyone knows that fucking Amazon is coming here. God knows what it'll do to my rent. This silly "National Landing" thing is literally three blocks from my apartment complex, and apparently there's going to be a massive Virginia Tech campus built almost directly across from me. Where are all these people going to live? Where am I going to live? How much worse can the traffic get? Sheesh. I don't want to leave the area. We'll just have to see what happens.
I don't think I'll be doing anything fun this weekend, as I am broke. I spent too much last week. I'm budgeting for Peru, and I set myself a limit, which I just barely went under last month, so I need to do better. Hopefully for my birthday I'll be getting money, which I can then spend on Christmas gifts for my Sis and her family. So this weekend might just be a stay-at-home, clean, read, color, get drunk and watch movies weekend.
Which is just as well. Next week is Thanksgiving. I'll be driving to Sis's on Thursday, then returning Saturday. That's plenty of time with family, trust me. I do look forward to being with Niece, though. Sis sends me videos and pics of her, and she's so adorable. She sent me an amazing pic of her coloring with this big fat grin on her face. She's just the best. And now she likes to play and do things, so I'm anticipating spending a lot of time in the floor with her, doing whatever she feels like. It'll be fun.
So things are good. I'm working out on the treadmill in the evenings, and counting my calories. I've been maintaining my weight but now I'm starting to see it dip, so I'm pleased. I'm studying Spanish via Duolingo and Pimsleur, so that I am not a total idiot for Peru, and I am planning and budgeting for the trip (even though it's so far away! I'm excited though). In the nearer future, I've got a lot to look forward to, event-wise; I've got tickets to a pair of interesting lectures in the Profs and Pints series; I'm seeing Craig Ferguson in December with my coworker B, which will be great; and I've got tickets to both Muse and Massive Attack in the spring. Plus books coming out ("KINGDOM OF COPPER" BITCHES DAAAARAAAAA), the ice rink opens this weekend, some new museum exhibits are coming up, lots to do. I just need to watch my damn budget, though.
It's so nice to feel good and energetic again. I've missed this so much. It's been a long, long time since I've felt this good. I hope it continues!
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One of Timothy A. Matthews’ paintings favoring #books and #cats More
I walked to the Masonic Temple and back today. That's 5.2 miles, plus all of the temple's stairs. It only counts if you climb the stairs and touch the front door (or the gate, since it's Sunday). This is a big deal because that used to be my usual walk. I'd do it two or three times a week. Much faster than I did today, of course. I hadn't done it in two and a half years, since I got sick and regained so much weight. So it feels really, really good to know I did it today.
This is the Skyline Cavern, and you can see right away this one was different from the other two. This cave, discovered by a retired geologist, was formed by underground rivers. Instead of large, cavernous rooms, it was mostly snaking narrow channels, like navigating a labyrinth. (It did have a few bigger spaces.) Also notice there are far fewer stalactites and stalagmites. The river's current wouldn't let them form, and the rock and soil above didn't allow water to drip through. Instead you get beautiful striations of color and clear shelves of bedrock. This cave is estimated at about 50 million years old, and it was the deepest one I visited, at about 260 feet, or 21 storeys. But most interesting are those last three pics. These are anthodites, which were first seen in this cave by the geologist discoverer. Aren't they bad ass? They look like sea urchins. They are super delicate calcium carbonate crystals that are perfectly six-sided, and they are very rare. This is the only place to see them in the US! Spectacular, eh? Because humans are dicks, they are protected by screens, but there was one chamber where they were uncovered so you could get the best view. They grow along the ceiling, of course. So I spent a lovely hour wending along the snaking paths with a much smaller crowd--and most importantly, an excellent guide who was very knowledgable and clearly excited to share his info. Funny, too, but mainly smart. Brainy is always sexy, I don't know how I refrained from humping his leg. Ooh, yeah, say Beekmantown dolomite again, oh please yes, tell me about the Pseudanophthalmus petrunkevitchi Valentine again, your latin is soooo good. He was very patient with me, haha. So yeah, a great way to spend my Saturday. Would recommend all three, but wow Luray needs to hire better guides. A decent outing, but expensive; including gas it was a hundred-dollar day. Oh well. Something cheaper next weekend, but what will it be?
So today's adventure involved spelunking! Amatuer, touristy, fat girl spelunking. It was a sunny day but cool and windy, perfect for the drive southwest to the Blue Ridge Mountains, where I grew up. The Post said this weekend would be peak color for the leaves, but I don't know what they were smoking, because the trees are all fucking bare now. But whatever. The Blue Ridge Mountains are old, old, old: hundreds of millions of years old, actually. They were formed by the collision of the American and European tectonic plates, meaning their base is oceanic crust. When they first formed, they were higher than the Alps. But, 400 million years wears on you, literally, and now they are hunched, rounded mounds, the highest peak only about 6.8k feet high. The Blue Ridge is part of the larger Appalachian chain and covers several states. Home sweet home, eh? They are pretty, I'll give them that. I visited three sites: Shenandoah Caverns, Luray Caverns, and Skyline Caverns. These caves are filled with metamorphic rock, mainly limestone, and feature formations that took tens or hundreds of thousands of years to form. Quite different from the lava tube in Iceland, made of basalt and formed from a volcanic eruption around 1200 years ago. Yeah. Also they are much warmer, about 55 degrees F, whereas the lava tube sits at 0 year-round and fills with ice. The first two I visited, Shenandoah and Luray, were the most similar. They were negative space when rocks collided and were driven upwards; they weren't carved by rivers or excavated by man. They featured a lot of stalactites and stalagmites, made mainly of calcium carbonite. They had sone coloration, mainly oranges and creams. Shenandoah was pretty nice, and the tour guide was decent. Part of the fun is having the guide point out particular structures or shadows and letting you "see" things like a bishop or a drumstick or a man kneeling in prayer. The first three pics are from there. I liked the wavy, curtainy formations. Luray was by far the most impressive space. The remaining pictures are from there. Much larger rooms, and the stalactites are incredible. Don't they look like jelly fish? So cool. That large pic in the penultimate row is a shallow lake, so the bottom is a mirror of the ceiling. Amazing that this all formed naturally, and is still forming. BUT. Luray was way more crowded, especially with obnoxious screaming children. Even worse, the tour guide was some dumb college kid who had no enthusiasm, no volume, and no personality. I wanted to ask him, "Are you having a bad day, or are you always this dead inside?" He rushed us, answered no questions, had zero interesting things to say, and spoke in monotone. Way to ruin an otherwise amazing cavern. Because of the Luray letdown, and the fact that the Shenandoah and Luray caves featured such similar formations, I almost didn't go to Skyline. But I did, and I am so fucking glad, I'm giving it a separate post.
I had an interesting conversation with MC today about knowing oneself, about whether we all have an innate core that is unchangeable and can be called "us." I do like the eastern philosophy of impermanence, and I do think we change overtime, often quite a bit.
But I also, for whatever reason, feel there is something innately "me", and he doesn't. I don't think I always believed this--I mean, the idea of no self is quite attractive and I've always liked it, and I see no evidence of a soul. But we do have minds, don't we? There is something in me that is me, yes?
MC argues that's a very narrow, Western viewpoint, which he loves to throw around ("Oh how very western of you") when he wants to be a bit smug or superior. "Look at me, I lived in China, I am culturally superior to you." Well, really, you spent four years wasted out of your mind in China, living day to day without thinking about the future. So, eh?
Anyway, we agree to disagree with that, but then it took a different turn which was quite fascinating. I brought the subject round to the masks again, which I feel is his defense mechanism, to perform and to don personas. I just have mile long pointy porcupine spikes for my defense, but I am myself, no bullshitting masks for me. Anyway, I asked, "Don't you get tired of wearing masks? Can't you at least be comfortable at home?"
"Who's to say we have a true face?" he countered. "Maybe we're always wearing masks, and we just choose how thick a mask to wear."
"I don't believe that. When I'm at home, in my pjs, reading and snuggling with my cats, that's no mask. That's just me, doing what I want, in the way I want."
He somehow then went on a tangent about the cats, about how I was choosing a little society of semi-conscious beings for company, and I really did not have a clue what he was talking about, and said so. It was never very clear.
"My point is," I stressed, "that I feel genuine and authentic. I live my life the way I want."
"And you think you know everything about yourself?" he pushed. "No one can provide you insight?"
"People can provide opinions about me, and I can weigh them as I like, but that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is this: who I am when I'm at home, is who I am. I'm not wearing a mask when I go to a concert and dance like a moron, or visit a museum and carefully read each plaque, or take pictures of interesting rocks out in a park. That's me. Aren't you you when you're at home?"
"What do you mean?"
This kind of surprised me. "You, aren't you just YOU when you're home? Aren't you who you want to be? Don't you feel authentic when you're with your wife? You don't have to act a certain way, follow a certain script. You're just you, without any effort."
He actually had to think about that for a bit. "Well, you don't understand, in a marriage, you have to make compromises," he patronized. Which is true, I have not been in a relationship, so I don't know much about that--although I do understand making concessions for my parents or my sister, so maybe I do. "You know, maybe she does something that really aggravates me, and I could choose to scream at her, but I just let it go. That doesn't mean I'm at my optimal comfort level. You can't always be comfortable."
"But if you can't be comfortable, if you can't be your raw self with your loved one..." I trailed off. "That just doesn't sound right to me."
"You just don't understand about marriage, about being with someone. I'm sure there are things about me that she doesn't like--"
"That's not what I mean. I just mean, you have to feel like you at some point, right? Don't you feel like you?"
"But there is no real self, it's always changing."
"But you have to be comfortable in your own home! With your wife! The person you want to spend your life with! Don't you?"
"You make sacrifices," he insisted, "you have to give up some of your comforts and your preferences, and they do the same thing. That's what it is."
"Ok...." I said. "Sure, you give up some things you like for the other person. And we all determine where we draw the line, right?"
"Exactly," he said. "Everyone has a different degree of what they're willing to change and give up."
"And as long as they still get something out of it--they're happy, they're fulfilled, they're content--then it8 isn't really a problem, I guess," I said.
But frankly, MC didn't look very happy in this conversation.
The whole thing just made me reframe my life a bit. I've been feeling pretty lonely, obviously, between my depressive episode and crushing on MC. I've felt like something is missing, that I'm missing out, that my life is unfulfilled, all that jazz.
But I mean, is it really? I pretty much do what I want, when I want, how I want, for as long as I want.
And we can take it a step further. So everyone has a different degree of what they're willing to go without or change in order to get something they want. I think about my dying Aunt, who has dealt with a horrifically emotionally abusive, weird man for her whole marriage. In return, she said he's been a "good provider and good father." If she felt that the abuse was worth taking for those things, then I guess that's fair, right? But what about women who are physically abused. "Well, yes, he slaps me sometimes, but then he brings me flowers and apologizes, so I think it's ok." If a woman is willing to give up that much autonomy, safety, authenticity, that much of herself, then I guess that's her choice, right? If we can draw the line and say, "I'm ok with giving up X and Y because I feel like in return I get A and B."
Obviously, this bothers me quite a bit. It certainly doesn't feel all right. It's horrible when women--really, when anyone finds themselves in an abusive relationship. And I get how frustrating it is to see a friend in that sort of situation and not be able to help them until they finally make the choice to leave. (I read somewhere women leave their abusers an average of seven times before they leave for good. That means they continually go back and face more abuse until they finally decide it's enough and escape. That is freaking terrible.) I may be radically misunderstanding this, but women don't "willingly" give up their authenticity. They are gaslighted, cut off from support systems, it's this whole manipulative thing the man will do to control his victim. (Understand I'm not at all blaming the women here; women who find themselves in these relationships are victims who sometimes need a lot of help to get out. Their view of reality is so skewed they often don't see how terrible their situation is, nor believe it can be improved.) So I guess all of us, not just women, get to draw our lines in the sand; "you can come up to this point and no further, I refuse to compromise/settle behind this point."
And while physical and sexual abuse is the easiest line to see, there is still mental and emotional abuse, like that that my father did. Those types of abuse don't carry as much "weight" because you can't see the bruises and cuts. So those lines might be blurrier or be constantly moving around. "Ok, yes, he screamed at my son for failing a math test. But he makes good money, and later they sat and talked it out, and no one's perfect." Some people might tolerate that, and some might not. I think a lot of it depends on how often it happens, to what extent it happens, and what the partner is like. And there are degrees of action before just leaving, lots of discussion and therapy and so on.
Anyway, it made me think this: my standards for who I would let in to my mind are ridiculously high. And that's OK.
I thought, I would never let a man yell at me. I certainly would never, ever let a man hit me nor cheat on me. How much other crap would I tolerate? Dirty dishes, toenails in the sink, forgetting the garbage--yeah, maybe, but who's to really say? Maybe I just have really high standards for myself. Maybe I just value myself so fucking much that I'm not going to let just any guy come in and fuck up my life.
Like, I know for a fact I do not want children, ever. I might meet the most perfect man in the world for me--but if he wanted kids, I would leave. Because I'm not willing to cave on that. Just like I'm not willing to cave on someone who, say, has a criminal record or is often unemployed or who would ever dare yell at me.
Children is a big issue, though. Smaller issues, like not replacing the toilet paper, or tolerating brussel sprouts at every dinner--how long would I put up with that? Would I care at all, or wouldn't I? I don't actually know. But I feel like if the small things bug you that much that you feel like you're uncomfortable or wearing a mask to tolerate them...I don't know, I feel like something's wrong there. Maybe the things are not that small. Or maybe you have some underlying issue you are avoiding, and the small thing is just a symbol, representative of a bigger problem.
So yeah, maybe I'll always be single. Maybe I will go through my life unfucked and unkissed. Maybe I should lower my standards. Or maybe--maybe--it's ok to value myself like a bar of gold, and not be expected to change myself or give up any of my authenticity for a guy.
Society hates the unmarried spinster: "Look at the old maid, she's a real hag, look at all the cats, she must be a real bitch, she's so ugly, couldn't get a man, never had kids, blah blah blah."
But maybe the narrative should be: "Yeah, I do have high standards, and I live a particular way. And I'm not willing to sacrifice a lot for a guy. And that's OK. I can make that decision and it isn't wrong."
Because I value myself. I value my comfort and my authenticity. I have to live true to me. And if I can't find a guy who is 100% ok with that, then that's the way it is. I deserve nothing less than a person who would respect my authenticity and want me to be me, not a mask. Maybe that means I'll always be single, or that I'm a snobby bitch, that my standards are too high.
Or maybe it just means, I get this one chance in life, and maybe I should do it the way I want, and fuck everyone else.
