Boys and other minefields

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So, I haven’t written for a couple of days, I have to admit even though it’s lame, that I am a bit discouraged that nobody seems to be reading the stuff that I am writing, and I am perfectly aware that it is utter crap, and probably not worthy of being read by the large You, and I DID write even, in my initial post, that I didn’t care whether or not people read it, but I guess I lied. I was so psyched there when people actually commented on something! It was a minor high! I guess I need to learn something about the laws of shameless self-promotion here on the interwebs. I just had a strange memory, hahaha, to put this into perspective in a roundabout sort of way: Me, about nine or ten, and my friend Leanna, and we are putting time capsule messages into a newly built rock wall. Basically we are writing things on mini pieces of paper, rolling them up, and shoving them into the cracks and imperfections – we thought – for eternity to find. Of course by now they have disintegrated into their individual molecules and somehow made their way to the sea, like everything else, but anyways, I distinctly remember writing something about the Information Superhighway, as I had just read in a Reader’s Digest (I know, how lame is that! But I would always find them at my grandma’s place, and loved the Disaster in Real Life stories, kind of  a sick fascination I suppose, stories of people getting run over by tractors and such. Anyways, back on track here, I had just read an article on how the Information Superhighway was going to revolutionize our lives. (I wish I could read it now, because I’m sure it would be a good laugh!) And I had this image of myself, magic carpet like, floating through this magical land. So I wrote it on one of my little scrolls, “the Beginning of the Information Superhighway is now.” Comical! Anyways, this brings me to another article I read recently, in Psychology Today, one of my favourite reads and one of the few magazines I feel compelled to read cover to cover, because it is totally fascinating! So yeah, this article was all about early experiences and how they shape you in the long run. One of the examples they used was Michael Jordan, and how he scored a major clutch win early on, as a nobody, and how that set him up to perceive himself as the kind of person who does that type of thing, etc etc etc. So that got me to thinking about men in general (Michael Jordan…..men — see my train of thought is not always as illogical as it may seem) and I was thinking specifically about boyfriends. Ladies, have you ever wondered what it would be like to gather together all the men that you’ve been with, into one room, and just spy on them? Or maybe make it like a cryptic clue, like, “You all have one thing in common — figure out what it is,” And then wait and see how long it would take them to all figure out that it is me? Like I wonder if they would get along with one another? None of them have ever met, which would just make it all the more interesting. Ok, Ok, so just in case you are picturing like, an arena here, I am talking about maybe ten guys, c’mon, give me some credit here!) Anyways, this all got me to thinking about what these wierdos all have in common.  Other than me, somewhere in their past. And I realized I have been a major SPCA for Men. I have dated losers! Why, you ask? As did I? I think it is inherently tied into your – mine – everybody’s self-perception, and the people that fit into that, just naturally come to you. Me, having rather low self-esteem, especially in high school, never felt like I deserved to date the guys that I really wanted, or was attracted to, and ended up instead with the mediocre ones. Of course, my current boyfriend, who is more than amazing, does not at all fit into the generalization, and has helped me advance leaps and bounds in my own self-worth, but the rest of them, to put in a totally reality-TV way, “Not so much!” And I would like to hereby blame it all on Calen, my first “boyfriend” in grade eight (I think we may have held hands, and kissed, and that was it). Anyways, Calen was quite popular, athletic, listened to Tupac, etc, and I was shocked and awed that he was interested in me, ME! Well, it turned out, after a few months of this charade, that he actually only ever dated me to get closer to my beautiful friend Lauren. Heartbreaking! But it’s funny how these particular archetypal scenarios replay themselves like bad movies on late night TV. Fast forward ten years, and I am 23, head over heels for my Alaskan fisherman/mountaineer boyfriend who was impossibly captivating and good looking and adventurous and all those good things. We are on a rock-climbing road trip in California and Nevada, and things have been going fairly well, although I am far from being a good climber and overly conscious the entire time that I am holding him back from doing the “hardcore” climbs that I know he would rather be doing. Anyways, we are in Yosemite, the last stop on our adventure, I am, to be honest, pretty sick of the whole living out of a truck thing, not to mention it is January and seriously sub-zero. Things have been going downhill, we’re fighting a bit, scrapping about money and stupid things. I decide I’m going to go on a solo hike, up as high as I can, and spend the night up there, so I do it, all the way to the top of the falls in Yosemite, it is incredibly beautiful, and I feel like a legend, sleeping under a rock as the wind howls around me. It takes me almost all day hike back down, and by the time I get there, He-Who-Shall-Remain-Unnamed is loading his climbing gear into a van. This van belongs to a girl named Lisha whom we met the previous day in one of the lame Yosemite tourist stores. Lisha is a super climber. She’s also ridiculously thin, with a perfect complexion, and gorgeous, ass-long black hair. Shithead (as he will henceforth be known) is like, hey, wanna come along? We’re going climbing. What could I do?? I didn’t really want to go climbing, I was fucking sick of it, but was I going to let this vixen disappear with my boyfriend for the day? I think not, ladies. So anyways, the day is exactly as disastrous as you can imagine. I feel totally incompetent, as Lisha spiders up walls in her petite Lulu Lemon perfection. (You might be picturing her as being a bitch, and that’s the worst part — she was super nice). So nice in fact, that she invites us over for dinner. Predictably, that night, Shithead spontaneously is feeling like he “doesn’t really want to commit to a relationship right now, etc etc etc,” So when the sun rises, I throw all his shit out of my truck, and drive home, 3000 miles of bawling.

Sorry people, I really didn’t mean to bore you with this depressing rant, I just thought it was interesting, that I have attracted several similar situations. And my question to you is: do we create this situations for ourselves, somehow? Just by having the expectation that things are going to go that way? I often express this fear to my wonderful, awesome Now Boyfriend and he reassures me that he loves me, etc, and I believe him. But there is still this fear in the back of my mind that some beautiful, competent, nymph is going to come along and steal him from me. Hmmmmm…. I think this could have something to do with – might be one of the keys to – the puzzle of me, one of the reasons I struggle so much with body image and feeling inferior to every woman who is prettier than me. Not a nice place to be! Don’t really know the way out! I’m sure I will get there, somehow, someway, and in the meantime, I’m terribly sorry for having spewed all this on You, but I have to admit it was cathartic.

Regards,

M

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