Two Fold Mistake


Okay, the figurative stomping and crushing of my emotional balls by the pointy, steel-toed, rusted razor blade encrusted boot (otherwise known as the breakup fiasco) is over. The pouring of salt into my open, bleeding and quite possibly infected wounds (known as him’s marriage to the BTH) took place almost a year ago. For now, what needs to be said has been said. I swear, I have more to say but that is for a face to face meeting (I think confrontation is the word I want to say), but given that is perhaps an impossibility in this lifetime, I make do with yelling at him’s pictures. They listen (one even fell face forward in shame), and that’s good enough.

The process is showing me everyday why recycling is a bad idea and is presenting me with the lofty ideal of actually holding out for Prince Charming…no more frogs, no more frogs with potential. Fixer-uppers are no longer on the list…we are holding out for the tall order of move-in ready…and if we are holding out for Prince Charming, we are looking for a move-in ready castle. (I totally mixed metaphors there but I am sure everyone reading knows what I mean) Not only is it a tall and lofty order, it may be damn near impossible. I have always been of the mindset that any man who finds me attractive, sexy, and/or relationship material is either fucked up out the gate or I bring the crazy out of them. My relationship history attests to that…ask my Panel. But I have the process, which is showing me where I am making my mistake(s) and I am quite sure that it/they are rooted in people pleasing and my self-image/self-worth.

Overselling Myself: This is the first part of the mistake…everyone knows I am a taller, bigger girl. Society tells us that the man is supposed to be bigger and stronger…the woman is petite and feminine and most of society believes and conforms to this mandate. How often do you see a guy with a woman taller than he is? I realize I have to try a little harder, put forth a bit more effort (as if it is my fault the national height for men is only 5’9”) …society tells men that taller women are not feminine and that larger people are sloppy and unkempt. I am a girly-girl: perfume, lipsticks, dresses and skirts. I like jewelry and hair. I do not do heels though…at 6’4” I never saw the need to do so. I keep a clean home (the depression era does not count) and enjoy cooking (and do it well). I do not want children or pets but am good with both (for short periods of time). I can curse like a sailor and watch porn with the best of them,. I do these things not only because I enjoy them but because after reading Cosmo articles and reading forum boards, I am told that men like these things…a woman who likes being a woman but that can kick back and share interests such as politics, porn and sports with them…well-rounded lady in the streets, freak in the streets. I try really hard to show the men I am interested in (and who initially show an interest in me) that I am the chick who can give them all they are searching for in a woman….I am the one who can give them the attention, the support, the laughter, the clean home, home cooked meals and all the great, kinky sex they could ever want. I never get a headache and always have time to meet their every little request.

Mothering: Combine the need to be all I can be to a man (and all that they need), empathy, a huge, caring heart and a zeal to dispel stereotypes and you have the second part of my mistake: I tend to mother the men I love and that brings all kinds of unheard of dynamics into the equations. I am too accommodating (because I am striving to be the only woman they will ever need…which in my mind, means I am the only woman they will ever want); I pick up everything they throw out there…if it is positive I am expecting a follow-through because that means they want me to need them as much I want them to need me. If it is a negative, I am asking questions and searching for answers because obviously improvement is warranted in spite of my best efforts. I am the one who sends care packages when they are sick: I will never forget sending him AND his daughter hot soup, grilled cheese sandwiches and orange juice to the Island when they were sicker than dogs and no one would give them a Kleenex. I did it as a surprise…had the deli deliver the food in separate bags and had their names on the bags…except the daughter thought someone was trying to poison them and Artsy Craftsy was calling me telling me to let him know NOW who sent the food before it went into the trash. And who else remembers me taking him the bag of cold medicines, soups and treats when he was living with the BTH because him was sick for like two months straight and just not getting better? When the men come to visit me, I am freshly showered, wearing sexy lingerie with their favorite music or TV program on….home cooked meals on the stove or in the fridge. I am putting them in the bed, fluffing pillows and in the case of Married Man, actually feeding him. I kept their favorite foods, snacks and liquor/beer in my fridge. When they are upset, I am there to soothe their feathers or lift their spirits….this is beyond being a part-time wife without the ring…I was their mom with the added bonus of great sex.  Fetching drinks, doing laundry, telling them it was no big deal when they were unable to perform, buying them presents. I present no challenge and there is nothing they can do for me that I cannot do not only for myself but for them also.

I have to stop this…I cannot put forth all these efforts and resources to men who alwaysalwaysalways prove themselves unworthy of it. I am hoping really hard and working even harder to implement and utilize the lessons learned, the fact that I am the source of my happiness and the changes being wrought to ensure that the next man will be of a different caliber. I am hoping and working to use the knowledge of the root cause of my low self-everythings  to bring about a change in me. A confident, emotionally secure and mentally/emotionally healthy balanced person has no need to prove themselves right out the gate and on a constant basis….I am no longer a little girl seeking the approval of little boys. I am a grown woman (or soon will be) seeking a grown man who wants to grow together, who is emotionally available, appreciative and a firm believer in reciprocity and who knows that no one is perfect but that is no excuse for inexcusable behaviors and treatments. Grown women do not overlook horrid treatments and disrespect by shaking their heads and asking: what am I going to do with you? Grown women who have a positive self-image and self-respect leave when disrespect and inconsideration are the rule and not the exception….they are not calling and emailing and asking what is wrong with them and how can they make it right. They KNOW…it is not them, it is the other party and that the other party is so undeserving.

I am going to conclude this by admitting the one biggest mistake I make now with the moving on process: I have cut off communications to and with him (best advice I ever took) but I still receive communications about him, and that is not a good thing. I know it is rooted in caring, and the fact that I have a big, soft heart and I am still trying to harden it when it comes to him. I told the Panel unless the man lost his mind, his job, his house or his marriage….I do not want to hear it. And then him breaks loose with all sorts of ridiculosity that pretty much no one can ignore. Him and his choices are turning out to be a spectacular train wreck that provides entertainment and speculation, but I need to draw another line in the sand. I cannot help him (not only will him not allow me to help, I just do not think I have it in me to even want to try any longer) and it is not helping me knowing what I know. I cannot say I don’t care but I no longer care to know…unless of course he loses his job, his house or the marriage as apparently him has already lost his mind. But I jump ahead of myself…I have a lot of puzzle pieces here that need to be put together….truly my time is better spent finding out which pieces go where because the next time around (when and where it will happen, who knows), it will be an entirely new ball game with brand new players….myself included, and I am thinking (fingers crossed) the new me won’t even give a rat’s ass what happens to him. Okay, maybe she’ll give a tiny rat’s ass.

As always, thanks for stopping past and reading, check back soon for the Sister Someone/Brother Everything update and as usual….enjoy your day!

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