Closet long-term girl

Do you ever sit and wonder what kind of first impression you have on others? How about what your significant other or best friend first thought of you? If you ask me, I wonder quite a bit.

First impressions are crucial, and even the way you say hello can determine what the outcome is already going to be. That's why I learned how indispensable faking confidence is. If I look competent, then everybody else will think I am.

So, without further ado, I shall share my stories of the first impression I had on my past romantic interests. Usually I get filed into, "fun friend but not my type" and "maybe even annoying or too high-maintenance." The worst kind of impression I have given off is "party girl." Let me tell you, you attract the wrong kind of men with the party girl image. In fact, it had the potential to ruin my chances of getting together with my boyfriend. Just like I said, if you don't look and act like you want to be viewed, then you will not be treated accordingly. That pretty much explains the unwanted attention that I received this past summer.

Back when I used to believe that "when I fall in love it will be forever," I was transparent, a total sap for budding romances, until I got very hurt. Suddenly, believing in forever felt embarrassing, a total lost cause. I totally blew it. I passed the first impression test, because this guy was attracted to me. Almost immediately I dreamt of commitment to its highest form. After that, I did not want to appear that I want a guy that I felt I can be with forever. Parties with friends sounded like fun. Doing things that didn't require a guy was fun. But at the same time I was not being honest with what I really wanted. I didn't want to be humiliated for believing in being together forever. So it made sense to pretend being a party girl, who enjoys dressing up, dancing and making out with cute boys. That, and flowers, chocolates and public displays of affection were so overrated.

There was one catch to having a "party girl" image...the scum of the earth want to date you. When you're meant for the long-term, humping and ditching is not easy to do. When I didn't take guys seriously, they didn't take me seriously either. I ran into guys who most likely just wanted me for what they believed would be months of nonstop sex, and then that's it. No more happily ever after. I almost dug my own grave and closed myself off to the guys that really do want to fall in love with someone they're so drawn to, who's smart and beautiful.

Finally admitting once again that I believe in relationships that last is like closet homosexuals who are happier because they came out. I may be reluctant to believe in forever because of the past hurt, but there's still hope. For one thing, I'm not divorced, so my idea of forever hasn't died a horrible death. I can pretend to act like flowers, cards, jewelry and wonderful views don't get to me, but they do. For the first time, I can someday admit that I'm in love, and it will last.

Too Close to Home

This quarter, I'm taking a class called "Narratives of Violence." I had to read this article on the triad of men's violence. It's scary that the men in my life fit the masculinity mold to a T. I've even told my boyfriend that he's disgustingly male. He likes sports, verbally puts down his brother and his other friends, is averse to male homoerotic scenes, and is very competitive with his brother. Most of all, he believes it's normal. Where's the guarantee that I don't have to worry about him turning violent towards me? Well, it's highly unlikely, but still...it's possible.

Of course I have trust issues, after what has been done to me. I am thoroughly convinced that men are capable of enacting violence, and to them it's perfectly normal; in fact it makes them a man. It's a very tenuous thing to associate possessing a penis with having to be masculine, to always have to strive to be above others at their expense. There has got to be another way to be a man without having to express it as violence. The world can't afford to have any more victims brought down by the need to garner male control and power.

Michael Kaufman's article really jumped out at me. The pervasiveness of violence totally applies, and then I can put my perpetrator's situation into perspective. What I saw is that men who act violence out have the same psychology as bullies, who stamp out anything remotely feminine, including their feelings. Yet at the same time, to keep from feeling inadequate or to maintain their masculinity, violence becomes an option. My perpetrator felt inadequate because he didn't have any children. He has expressed his pain several times, but not enough to keep him from severing all his ties on grounds of sexual assault, battery and voyeurism. What he needed was a shrink to hear him out.

It's just that reading about violence against women resurfaces all these feelings in me. Sometimes I get so angry at how society perpetuates violence and legitimizes it in institutions like politics, contact sports, and the military. Then again, perhaps aggression and masculinity do have a biological link. There's all that testosterone and whatnot, but that's for another time.

Habits of singlehood

On the road to a committed relationship, there was turmoil on both ends.  Towards the end of the series "Dawn's Next Boyfriend," I had already selected the winner before the result was announced, but I felt that I had to play it cool until he asked.  On his end, he said he was going to wait a little bit longer to ask me to commit because as early as the first date I told him that I was in a bachelorette stage, talking to other men and whatnot.  For the duration of the "series," I felt wildly liberated while flirting for free drinks at bars, dressing up and having good times.  I didn't feel lonely and I took singlehood for what it is, even if it meant saying 'no' when someone wondered if I had a boyfriend.  

Nonetheless, it's a new feeling, being on the other side of the fence.  I'm afraid it might unnecessarily kill things if I'm constantly bringing up my "fear" that my single habits might die hard.  Like maybe I'm still reeling other men in emotionally and inadvertently setting easy traps for infidelity.  Or giving in to other men that I may be attracted to.  Fact of the matter is, I'm a bit concerned because I've never been in a serious relationship, one where I feel so willing to give and share my future with someone else.  Maybe it doesn't come out right when I'm telling him that I'm afraid of being inclined to cheat.  

I came to the point that active singlehood is like social justice; you know that efforts toward social justice are successful when they are no longer needed and have accomplished their objective by being means to its own end.  I've already attained my objective, and hopefully I don't have to go back to singlehood, back when I secretly hoped for a wonderful guy and had my mind guessing everything.  I mean, I still guess and wonder what my future is like, but there are little things that tell me that I really wouldn't want it any other way than it is right now.  I can still flirt, and at least it's not like there's a huge risk involved, unless it's flattering a wonderful guy whom I know deserves it: now my words are for his ears only.  And frankly, I'm tired of meeting guys who just don't fit the bill.  I'm tired of making out with Gaston and having so many people that I know talk about it afterwards.  I may miss being very single, but I really don't.  In fact, I should thank my singlehood for the good times and the bad.

Being bored and boring

Have you met Mr. Boring?  He recently got married and now his partner is also Bored.  I hope they last.

I'm here to tell you that I once dated Mr. Boring.  What really attracted me to him was how perfect and suave he was.  He was everything I wanted in a man: good looks, smarts, a future, the right height, and the posession of a worthwhile interest level in me.  Thing is, that wonderful future he had...didn't necessarily include me.  I knew I had no place from the very beginning; no place within his vicinity of greatness, let alone his future.  The charm is now a thing of the past.  Strangely, the breakup wasn't as horrible as previously thought.  I saw it coming.  Did I really want to spend a murky future that did not even hold the promise of excitement?  I could see the years pass by with him, with no joys and accomplishments to share because it'd all seem normal, perfunctory and expected with him; if there was anything extreme that would consume my thoughts with him, it was the bad drama.  In short, he wasn't unique, wasn't himself.  If I fell for him, I wouldn't be sure I was falling in love with an actual person.  

The problem was that he was too perfect.  Not only did it intimidate me and make me feel less, but I spent time wondering if he had a fatal flaw.  
Turns out he did: he was boring.  
I didn't feel like I was the luckiest lady on earth to have him; I felt dispensable.  
It certainly puts a damper on everyday happiness when you're with somebody that's on a pedestal, and suddenly there's nothing else beyond the admiration.  

Word is he got married, and his wife adopted his last name.  She is now Mrs. Bored and Boring.  They're so perfect together, and it makes sense, because I knew it would never be me.