\nI\u2019m sick to shit of crazy women, and I\u2019m trying to decide whether or not all women are crazy.<\/p>\n
The only girls I really get along with are friends, or the wives of friends. Hell, I should thank my friends\u2019 wives. They\u2019re in a select club of people who have preserved a perhaps foolish faith that women are good, worthy souls. Because I consider them unavailable, I\u2019ve been able to get to know them as human beings. And they are all beautiful, stunning, remarkable human beings.<\/p>\n
So I know that good women are out there and that I should not harden my heart and turn away.\u00a0 My friends\u2019 wives may well be the collective saviors of my humanity.<\/p>\n
But that doesn\u2019t change the fact that most of my girlfriends to date can best be compared to the most hideous train wrecks you can imagine. It\u2019s all my fault. I attract, and embrace, insanity.\u00a0 And the insane come to me.\u00a0 When we\u2019re done, they\u2019ve cheated my heart, they\u2019ve stolen my money, they\u2019ve badmouthed me to mutual friends, and they\u2019ve destroyed my dreams.\u00a0 Again and again, I let them walk all over me. I let them reign over me with their crippling hangups, their demanding need to belong in a world of their own creation, their despicable self-loathing.\u00a0 And it\u2019s not just during the relationship, these bitches stay with me for months\u2026years\u2026decades. Hey \u2013 remember The Strategy<\/a> article? \u00a0That first comment<\/a>?\u00a0 That fucking bitch was out of my life six years ago and, yet, I can expect contact from her every few months.\u00a0 Sometimes it\u2019s a haughty defense, like her comment.\u00a0 Sometimes she begs me to meet her at a conference somewhere to fuck her in the ass behind her husband\u2019s back.<\/p>\n If only she were interesting and pornographic.\u00a0 Her problem, and it\u2019s a problem shared by many of my exes, is that they’re fucking boring.\u00a0 Predictable on a level that, comparatively speaking, makes an episode of The A-Team<\/em> nail-bitingly intense.<\/p>\n I think, most of all, it\u2019s the drama that bores me.\u00a0 That\u2019s also my own fault, I think.\u00a0 For the last few years, I\u2019ve been unable to take people\u2019s problems seriously.\u00a0 You know, unless it\u2019s big and horrible. But joblessness, school or life problems, general malaise, and even abuse cases leave me sort of cold.\u00a0 Without reservation, without hesitation, I would trade my life with the most damaged of victims, the most broken of despairing souls.<\/p>\n It worries me that I’ve become so resentful that, even in cases of child abuse I think, well, at least your parents and family were there.\u00a0 At least you knew their intentions. Yeah, those intentions were evil beyond reason\u2026 But at least you knew.\u00a0 At least you could point at them and condemn them for what they were.<\/p>\n How lucky you are.<\/p>\n My parents raped and beat me in a far more insidious way. I would have welcomed the violation of my father\u2019s cock or my mother\u2019s wandering hands, or black eyes and broken bones\u00a0 instead of what they actually did to me. They stole my future, my name, my dreams, my hopes, my expectations, my ideas of love, kindness, and beauty.\u00a0 Their teachings were that the world is entirely evil, and that everyone is wicked, insane, and hopeless.\u00a0 Loveless. And that I stand among the evil people, and will share their destiny.<\/p>\n And, just when I thought I could escape their hideous lessons, they dragged me back.\u00a0 Two years of my life spent, day and night, seven days a week, deconstructing my mother\u2019s estate.\u00a0 Then 12 years of agonizing, supposedly incurable nerve pain.\u00a0 And then my dad dies and I enter the same probate adventures.\u00a0 No one apologizes, either. There is never a resolution.\u00a0 My mother\u2019s last words to me were to call me sick, evil, cruel, and inhuman.\u00a0 My father looked me in the eyes and told me that he did what he thought was best for me.<\/p>\n But, of course, I fought back.\u00a0 I struggled to live and not give in. And, with the exception of that little bump in the road, a miracle surgery returned me to life. It cured my pain.\u00a0 But, right now, I feel like I didn\u2019t even start breathing until just three years ago.<\/p>\n Subtract one of those three years for recovery.\u00a0 It was brain surgery, and I lost quite a bit of muscle in my neck, so you know how that goes.\u00a0 I was fucked up.\u00a0 So let\u2019s say the last two years is all I\u2019ve really had.\u00a0 Quite literally born yesterday.<\/p>\n I entered one relationship, post-surgery, with that disclaimer in place.\u00a0 I needed time to learn how to live.\u00a0 I needed room to learn even the basic things again \u2013 showering, brushing my teeth, and drinking a glass of water without pain.\u00a0 I needed\u00a0 room to pay off a debt I had built to try and assuage my troubled mind in the pain years. And she said she understood. She signed on.<\/p>\n It fell apart, left me feeling bad about myself and a few bucks lighter. Left me thinking I had failed in my attempts to steer a different course.<\/p>\n I\u2019m pretty sure that all the shortcomings are my own. I\u2019m looking for a girl that may not exist.\u00a0 I\u2019m thinking a PhD (or similar education) who loves sex, booze, sci-fi, and travel.\u00a0 She has to embrace spontaneity.\u00a0 If I say fuck all this shit, let\u2019s go to fucking France for a month, then she needs to say okay.\u00a0 Or, at least, plan it with me for something a bit more organized in a few months.<\/p>\n She needs to enjoy gatherings, entertaining and being entertained.\u00a0 She needs to be interested in hope\u2026healing\u2026living.\u00a0 That\u2019s what depresses me the most about my relationships.\u00a0 They have been sought out by a soul crippled with loss, pain, and resentment.\u00a0 Their broken souls often reflect my own.<\/p>\n Birds of a motherfucking feather, right?<\/p>\n But I have overcome.\u00a0 Or, rather, I am overcoming.\u00a0 Because fuck this world, and fuck these people who hurt us, and fuck every goddamned transgression.\u00a0 It means nothing.\u00a0 It\u2019s the result of the actions of evil men and women\u2026 Of small men and women.\u00a0 Of people inconsequential, or fucking dead, or so sad that there is no hope of redemption.<\/p>\n Let them burn.<\/p>\n For us?\u00a0 Wake up, breathe, and begin again.<\/p>\n We are free. That\u2019s what I learned when I woke up from brain surgery. When the sorrow and despair of my world was abruptly detoured to paradise and I went along\u2026albeit kicking and screaming.<\/p>\n I crave freedom.\u00a0 I want that same freedom in the soul of my mate.\u00a0 And I\u2019ve been shown that all these dreams I talk about, and all these plans I have, and all these fantasies I hold, are within grasp.\u00a0 They\u2019re right there. You can see them.\u00a0 You can work for them.\u00a0 You can embrace the journey. And, on that journey, you can cry, and fuck, and love, and laugh.<\/p>\n So far, I\u2019ve been on that road alone.\u00a0 Surrounded by weak, fearful women who do not see the goal, the prize, or even the journey.<\/p>\n But I have seen that there is life beyond all this suffering. My heart will never be able to close again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[268],"tags":[269,134,160],"class_list":["post-1552","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-project-mondays","tag-project-mondays-2","tag-relationships","tag-women"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1552","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1552"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1552\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1559,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1552\/revisions\/1559"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1552"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1552"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1552"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}