"It is so nice to get a good morning text, you know? It is nice to get that from someone!" I am talking with a friend of mine who is happy that she has started dating someone who says hello in the morning via text. We talk about our shared experiences with this for a bit, though mine with morning texts are just a bit different.
As I explain to her what I do every morning with four or five people, she starts to laugh, and so do I. Every morning, I send out a naked picture to several special acquaintances, and then, get some form of gratitude back, ranging anywhere from, "nice one,: to lines about my sexual magnetism, my physical beauty, or what have you. It is wonderful to get that. I adore this morning ritual of mine.
I am aware that these sentiments are different than the sentiments from someone who, just out of thinking of you, or wanting you to know that you are being thought of, sends you a good morning text. This uninitiated form of affection is a wonder. When that one person you are thinking of, that one person who is special to you, lets you know that they are thinking of you too, it feels like magic.
But, I have set myself up. In my actions, I have requested note. I have beckoned attention. I have set it up so that I am guaranteed to receive some form of appreciation. Sometimes one or two of the men I send a picture to do not respond. Sometimes, I get a request to cease and desist. Sometimes, though rare, I don't have time to send one. But I want to make sure that the men I like know I am thinking about them, and frankly, I want them to think of me, though I know this is a relatively low stakes game.
There is a flip side to this which has become a bit of a growing concern for me over the last months, not because it is just now starting to trouble me, but because I have just become aware of it. Within this pre-arrangement, I have set it up so that I am requesting attention. Because I am requesting attention, I have come to rely upon it. I have set myself up for it.
In itself, there is nothing wrong with this scenario, unless you are a person, like me, who prefers to see herself as fiercely independent, needing no one, and asking nothing. As I said, I like to see myself that way. Unfortunately, this practice has led me to see that I am anything but. Well, maybe that is hyperbole. What strikes me is that against the backdrop of this low stakes game, my mood is sometimes quite affected by not getting a certain type of attention from one person in particular. And this DRIVES ME CRAZY. And the fact that it drives me crazy DRIVES ME CRAZY.
This is in stark contrast to my casual attitude with other of the people with whom I share intimacies. My fella is the center of my life and this sometimes bugs the shit out of me. It bothers me to no end that not getting attention from him when I want it bugs me. I want it to not matter. I want to not care. I want to be indifferent when he does not respond to my texts or my questions or statements. But I am helplessly dependent upon his approval and I fucking hate that.
I see that I have fooled myself into believing that I can have all these lovers and not need them...not really. They are a distraction for me for when that one person who matters does not pay me attention. Why do I do this? Because the flip side of all this is that I need my space. YES. It is true. I like having time to myself. If I don't have it, I am not kind. I am not compassionate. I am not, as they say, "my best self." So really, spending more time and energy with him would also drive me crazy. It would in fact, probably push me to crush him utterly. Not physically, of course; this is just metaphorical hyperbole. It turns out, to my great dismay, that I am not the kind of person who can actually get what I think that I want. I am the kind of person who cannot handle sharing the space required to receive the attention that space sharing would provide.
When I write my posts, I generally know where I am going. I generally have some type of answer or process that I demonstrate which helps me to deal with my specific form of freakish behavior. Well, I am at the edge of this particular cliff, and I am not sure if I want to jump. I am not sure if I want to back away from the edge. I am not sure, finally, if I want to stand on the cusp and breathe in the sweet air of freaky, letting it filter through my lungs and inform my blood and heart of their destiny. I am, in a word, paralyzed on the edge because who I want to be is fighting desperately with who I actually am, and it is driving me to do and say some pretty unnerving things.
I completely understand my predictament, I just have no idea how to handle it, so I will leave you with this quote from the movie Moonstruck, spoken by Ronny Cammareri to Loretta:
".........love don’t make things nice – it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren’t here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die. The storybooks are bullshit!"
Yeah.....the storybooks are indeed bullshit...but I have known THAT for quite some time.
You know what would be FANTASTIC? If you shared this with any therapists or social workers or psychiatrists you might know who can help me with this. Or, just the general public. SOMEONE has to have the answer for me. SOMEONE must know how to help.
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