Yes, Virginia, it is possible to make a giant, colossal ass of yourself. I do it all the time, but probably one of the biggest times was when it took me way too long to realize that ‘he just wasn’t into me anymore’.
Maybe I’da got the message sooner if we hadn’t conducted our conversations almost entirely, as in 99%, by email. Maybe I would have caught inflections or the absolute black and white of intention if I’d seen his facial expression and heard his tone – especially to other women.
As it turned out, my confusion was also based in some major naiveté that I should have outgrown by then. Despite all other behavior to the contrary, I’d actually hang onto any drop of warmth he’d toss at me as a sign that he really did care about me. I was hopeful to certain that he just needed to hear me say something encouraging about my feelings for him. Don’t gag. I really did believe that. OK yeah, now I join you in the reflex.
He was really pretty good at throwing sweet bait, but not as I’d hoped, to rekindle our closeness. No, he thought I had some info that would give him and a “friend” a leg up in a situation, maybe even help him out of a sticky spot. He wanted to be her absolved hero.
Now, I think most people would catch onto the repetitive-looping conversations to draw out ‘secrets’ perhaps sooner than the third or even fourth event, but I’m a slow learner.
I’d honestly believed his declarations of love, even while he continued to defend his right to a more ’rounded’ life. As in, additional curves that weren’t only mine. Yeah, that request was why I’d originally said goodbye.
Except then that situation for his new girl(s) came up and he knew I knew something about it, but not what exactly. So, why not throw the ol’ girl a tease.
As it would turn out, I didn’t have the info he wanted, but that didn’t stop him from giving it the ol’ college try to pry it out of me a dozen times or more. Yes, I said more than a dozen. Told you I was slow.
When it was finally clear that I couldn’t or wouldn’t give any of the desired intel and I requested we have a final and direct conversation about our own situation, he never returned an answer to that plea. He would stay hovering near, but never for the purposes of genuine closure.
Now, I know what he did was cold and cruel and he is a not so pure, first-class conniving ass and a hole one at that… but…
I’m not dumb… I’ve been called a pretty smart cookie by some pretty astute chefs, but in this case, in my need to not feel humiliated along with sad and lonely, I threw me straight into the whole pool of dumb – the really deep drowning end. I allowed myself to be mostly ‘kindly’ conned over and over and over. I guess we could say I outsmarted myself into dumber.
On top of that, I was surrounded by friends who saw the whole scenario for what it was and issued me dozens of warnings, and still I insisted I knew better – we were soul-connected. Gravol or Kwells, anyone?
Well, several eventual resuscitating defibs to the brain and I know better now, and I would tell that ol’ me or anyone: New Rule – two strikes.
Two strikes on the same issue and then it’s, sweet dreams, busy boy. One second chance to correct a first mistake; a third or more says it’s deliberate badness and I refuse further madness.
That doesn’t seem so dumb now, does it? And that’s an example of why I always say my wisdom has been hard-won.
Based on contemplative musings with a young woman while on my road to recovery from the big ones, and another huge thanks to my fab friends who have written posts while my brain cells are wobbly – for medical reasons this time.