Monday, April 5, 2010

What a wicked game to play...

"In other words, a man can have any woman, except the one he loves. And a woman can fall in love with many men, but not with the one who loves her."

Soundtrack: Comptine d'un Autre Ete

He never expected to love me.

When we met, at the club, he was open to possibilities, the way a highly competent man is when he is out on the town: not hunting, but aware of the women around him, able to act on opportunities as they arise.

Our meeting was accidental, a slight misunderstanding brought on by a moment of intersecting body language when I stepped in his general direction.

When the club closed for the evening, routine-weary employees shoving the patrons into the street, we stood under a street lamp. My car door was open, I was leaning against the frame, half ready to go, half waiting to be convinced to take him home with me.

He did convince me. With his attitude, his boundless confidence, the smile and those yellow-green starburst eyes.

I took him home.

We walked up the stairs at 3AM, I unlocked the door, and pushed inside.

The computer was running, documents still open with my notes on the large flat panel screen, stacks of papers on the ottoman I had been perched on a few hours prior, debating whether or not I should interrupt my progress to spend the evening with a few friends.

I sat on the edge of the bed, across from the mirrored closet doors, took off my shoes, the knee-high socks, and we began a night where he refused to let me sleep, continued to make my body scream for him until I had twenty minutes to shower and be out the door for previously made plans.

He bought me coffee, kissed me, and we parted.

It wasn't supposed to be more than that.

It wasn't supposed to develop any further.

Fast-forward through the months, through the restaurants, the explorations, the adventures, the clubs, the laughter, the days spent in bed, the hours spent talking. His presence slowly began to mold me into a woman who could do more, be more, than I was before.

I loved him because he had control. He had control of himself, he had control of the world around him. If things were not going the way he wanted them to go, he'd find a way to fix it- whether it was legal or not. Whether it was moral or not.

He weakened me. He would comment on how he was getting in my head, push me outside of my comfort zone, to points of complete rawness as I attempted to cope with a lack of emotional shielding, coming to him afterward, shaking like a lamb, seeking comfort in his presence, even though he was the one who began the process in the first place.

I idolized him.

He ended things, and came back. Repeat. Repeat.

He told me he wasn't relationship material, but he continued to try.

And then he loved me.

He lost focus on projects, postponed them, ran himself ragged, for me.

He turned down parties, booty calls, old lovers, and one night stands, for me.

Whenever we split, the slightest bit of me into his life would weaken his resolve, and he'd be back again, calling me, telling me we should try again. Never quite admitting that he made a mistake.

My alpha male.
My millionaire.
My lover of hundreds of women.
My forty-time over convict.
My successful life-sentence appealer.

I made him crumble. I made him weak.

Rather, his love for me made him weak. Made him human.

His lack of control made me upset and so disappointed. He was a god to me, and suddenly... he's human and much too fallible. Capable of mistakes, capable of faltering. His lack of control over his emotions meant he could no longer maintain his resolve when it came to staying away from me.

How can I respect him? How can I trust him with my emotions, trust him with my safety, the surrendering of my self?

How can I look up to him?

The more I consider this, the more I wonder if anything will be able to repair it. The thought of permanently losing him sends sickness to take root deep into my stomach, but the thought of him coming back to me, telling me he's willing to finally compromise and make it work... makes it seem like he's unable to be decisive, or at least to adhere to the decisions he makes.

And makes me uncomfortable to think of linking my life to his, as we spoke of some months ago.

Perceived masculinity is a tricky thing. It reads like a curse, in a way: forever bound to be locked up inside oneself. Isolated from equal emotional companionship, from true disclosure, the constant monitoring, never relaxing one's gaze from the goals at hand, always maintaining. Expectations pressing on you, knowing that to falter is to lose, and that losing reflects upon you in such a way that undermines identity through desirability.

Do I like this knowledge, that my desire, my love, is not dictated through some cosmic connection, underlying spiritual forces that drew us together?

No, not really.

My love, my emotions, are creations of tiny cues, definitions of masculinity and desired traits that have been dripped into me like an IV by a combination of socialization and biology. My interest is severed when the man drops his cues, drawn away when another is better able to signal his dominance.

I am a moth, flitting drunkenly, looking for the brightest flame.


  1. Question...How does someone get to be a millionare and yet have so many felony convictions? I am sure it is possible but it seems so unlikely.

    If you really feel so strongly about him then why dont you go be with him. Hunt him down and take him on. Tell him that you are not going to back off this time because you feel that it is fate that you should be together. Then, throw all caution to the wind because it may may end up very painful once you are in his inner realm.

    A man once said to me that he prefered having "strange" rather then having his own wife because he had her every night and it felt more exciting to have something strange instead.

    I found it an enlightening moment because once he has been with someone he doesnt feel as attracted to them any more as he did the first time. Only after seperation for the appropriate amount of time would it cause his desire to reignite.

  2. That was hauntingly poetic.

    Funny, at the end, when you allude to being a moth in search of flame. Moths wings are photo-sensitive. It's not their fault that they are drawn to flames. Their design and nature is what brings them there....

  3. Even a moth knows when to stop flying into the flame, stopping short when it feels the heat.

  4. Not meaning to go overboard here but I had a couple things....The first paragraph, in general, people want what they don't or can't have. They usually go for the wrong type of person. The type of person they really need doesn't appeal to them. The mind is a powerful thing and I think that Love is mind over matter. I think we all as humans convince ourselves about virtually every feeling we have, so if we feel that we love we believe that we do. We open the door to love for one person and close it off from all others, when there may have been a perfectly suitable candidate just around the corner. There is a distinction to being in love and the thought of being in love. Perspective in a situation can make it difficult to clarify between the two.
    In order to really move on, the mind must be free of any thought of that past love in order to truly open the door to someone new. Otherwise the old thoughts will creep back in and become a balancing scale to compare the new love with the old, hense not giving the new love a proper chance to bloom. I struggle with this in my own life and it is almost killing my chances to move on. Dont let yourself get caught in the trap between the past and the future. The present is difficult, but it will soon be the past. Love is a very deep subject,lol. Hope I havn't rattled on, Sweet

  5. this post implies that your relationship with GV8 (and by extension in the "perceived masculinity" para all males, all alphas) was based on your turning him into an ideal, shoehorning him into the perfect man of your dreams, putting him on a (yecch) pedestal. this is the same mistake as the men to pedestalize women, thinking they are made of sugar and spice and their shit doesn't stink. maybe he was a lot closer to your ideal, true. *but* everyone is bound to fail that test, because everyone has flaws and imperfections. and those imperfections are part of each partner in a relationship and must be embraced, not simply tolerated. (toleration is the crack that will lead to full-blown disaffection later.) embraced. am i missing something? you know this...

  6. "I am a moth, flitting drunkenly, looking for the brightest flame"
    I like you anyway.

    Although were I in the room with you, I would read the last few paragraphs back to you in an exaggerated, melodramatic, high pitched voice while wringing my hands until you either started giggling or punched me.

    Except for the part on masculinity. That I would read in an aristocratic European accent as I stared manfully at the horizon.

  7. SweetMag,

    Take an intelligent man with a complete disregard for laws, an ability to wheedle his way out of situations with charm or power. Then remove him from his line of work. He's not going to flounder, he's going to shove himself into rebuilding his mini-empire, only legally this time.

    Which is what GV8 did.

    I did fling myself after him once, in late November. And it was an incredibly educational experience, something that I'm glad I did. But that's a one time thing, I can't chase him down whenever he leaves me.

    I have a feeling that this separation will allow him to realize how much he gave up for me, and make this more than a temporary split.


    Wow, you just added perfectly to that. I did not realize that about moths... I just thought they were the morons of the insect world.


    Building off the previous comment, I'm definitely without emotional survival instinct, the moron of the female world.


    Hehe, don't worry about having too much to share. I need the input of others.

    That first paragraph (that you wrote) was wonderful. It's so hard to separate and to give up, hard to realize when it's uncontrolled love, or when it's a choice that we make.

    And I have to run... more response later.

  8. SweetMag (continued),

    I've always had a period after a relationship where I "burn" a guy out of my system by having a series of one-nighters that get him physically out of my sexual muscle memory, then mellow out and start coming into my own, take a lover or two... calm down.

    It's been a nice way of purging.

    But I'm not doing that anymore. So I have to find another way to get him out of me.


    No, you're not missing anything. I pedestaled him. He was incredibly easy to do that to because he is so very close to what I desire in a partner, the closest I've managed to find thus far. It's hard to accept he's human, hard to accept his flaws, harder to accept them especially now, when they are impacting me so strongly, hurting me so deeply.


    Well, maybe next time you'll come visit me instead of hanging out with monks, huh? That way I can actually punch you in the shoulder.

    And I want to hear your "poor me" masculine voice. I think you should make a vlog. Just sayin'.