2008-02-12
Trust Me
I was recently seeing someone.
And although I don't have any particular emotional hang-over or hang up about it at all, I would like to bitch out for a second and quote the Violent Femmes:
"You look like you could be the mother of a boy/
A boy who bored me more than any other man in the land/
The way that he thought of me, like I was totally a jerk/
I wanted to permanently pound his prick into the dirt/
No, I'm not joking/
Yes, I was choking."
Choking on the weight of boring; rather on the weight I placed on boring as a value.
He was pretty boring, which is what I was insisting I wanted for awhile there. He touted his boringness, maybe defensively, maybe passive-aggressively, but most likley.... honestly. He was making some life changes and at this time, boring was what he wanted to be.
I was recently convinced that I needed to be with someone who was boring. I had this idea that dependability and trust-worthy meant boring. I felt like I should want to meet someone who was low-intensity and who was more beta than the guys I am usually really attracted to.
I had this idea that I wanted something gentle and that in order to have a good relationship, I needed to have it with someone who was less vibrantly weird and less intense than I am.
I was wrong.
Now this dude wasn't someone I was serious about for like, so many reasons that I don't want to go into. Doing so would be mean and it would result in embarrassment for all parties involved. Probably also I'd get a lot of snickering and stuff that I am not interested in dealing with. Because I've moved on. I had my reasons for my interest and I stand by them.
.
.
.
.Okay, among other things, he didn't have a job and he drove his mother's Buick. Oh, and lived at her house.
Now, hold the comments and the laughter while I say two things that need to be taken as fact:
1. His circumstances were reasonable, and
2. Although he was nice to me and he was really, really smart, I wasn't serious about this; there was a lesson I was seeking and I got it,
Low-energy guys or relationships that pulse at the setting "Decent" instead of at "Breathless" are not right for me.
I learned that I am ready to trust myself to be with the guys that really light me up on many levels, some of which are physical, some of which are intellectual, some of which are creative, and some of which are just the intangibles of chemistry and possibility. I like the giant personalities and breath-taking expectations and guys who don't look away when you're staring them down.
I used to think that because I am a pretty intense person, that the relationships I had with high intensity dudes were innately bad or innately volatile and that the only way for me to find satisfaction in love would be to find it with a boriing guy.
Some of my past relationships were volatile. Some of my past boyfriends were not nice people. Some of them, I guarantee you, I wrote off too soon for other reasons that were not fair or necessarily accurate. I assigned a lot of blame to the guys and only in the case of Jesus did I take much responsibility for my own actions. The ironies are rich, I know. I had it 100% backwards.
But I'm a good person.
And so I have to dig it that if I'm a good person than there are high intensity guys who are good people and that maybe, just maybe, I need to trust my gut about my attraction to people.
I've grown up in the last two years in terms of being able to let things go and being able to believe in what I say to people.
I think that if two high intensity people are truly confident than that might be the best, most romantic relationship in the world.
And that is what I want. True romance.
Who I fall in love with is consistently that cowboy geek, that guy who is HUGE but also sharp in wit and reason.
Denying myself because when I was younger and dumber I wasn't able to be as honest and to take the risks I wanted to take is sort of setting myself up to be a cripple forever.
I am able to be honest with myself and with men.
I am able to take risks and trust myself when I do it.
I do believe that everything works out in the end.
So last Saturday, my friend had a party.
I took my date and he hung out in a corner of my friend's house all night like a looming Gothic throwback who wanted to put on a cape and some Doc Martins instead of chillax at a pink birthday party with some very cool people, roller and otherwise.
There was no curiosity, no questions about my friend or her house, no engagement of me, no... nothing.
It was like he wasn't there and then I'd remember that he was there and I'd think to myself, "Self? Really? Is he mad at me? That's not fair. If he's mad, he should say something. If he's not having fun, he should be honest. Should I go stand in a corner, too?"
I looked down at my pink velvet pants and remembered that I can only be responsible for me in this situation.
So I embarked on an odyssey of pink drink exploration and had fun with my friends thinking of new party themes, new theme songs, and breakfast themes, like Chocolate Breakfast which is two eggs and some bacon, all covered in melted dark chocolate like gravy. Because you should have dark chocolate in the morning for the endorphins and anti-oxidental properties.
My friend said to me the next day, "Is that your boyfriend?"
"No."
"Good. My boyfriend noticed that he sat down next to you when you ordered him to so he thought this guy was your boyfriend; I noticed that you had to order him to participate so i knew he wasn't."
I dunno y'all.
I kept thinking I wanted to meet someone really boring, someone who was very low-energy and quietly creative but with this dude, I over-shot by a long-shot.
Being so far across the bell curve of what kind of partner I want to attract into my life, compared with the kind of partners to whom I am naturally attracted makes me rethink why I was thinking that someone boring would be good for me in the first place.
I was selling myelf short and not being very honest and... I was wrong. I was not taking into account my own personal growth over the last two years. I've spent a long time single now and in that time I've learned how to work with many different personalities; I've learned how to work with myself.
I've learned how to back off and let someone shine, how to be supportive even if I don't 100% agree, how to tell someone what I need, how to believe that what I need is valid and fair, and how to accept criticism.
Seeking someone less intense was a good experiment and it led me to some good stories but in the end, I am a big bold personality who is attracted to big bold personalities.
I didn't used to know how to be good, how to be intense with someone and not have that intensity turn to volatility.
Lately, I'm learning that I'm not only not as attracted to the beta guys but I roll over them and I don�t even know it. Instead of being up front with me about unintentionally hurt feelings, more beta dudes tend to get passive aggressive and suddenly from out of nowhere, I am some kind of jerk who treats people badly and I'm stuck quoting myself to him all of the sincere compliments I ever gave, pointing out that provocation is provocation and that the passive aggressive male is no victim.
I'd rather sit down and say with someone, "We sucked. I did this"
"I did this."
"Okay. Now we move on."
I trust those conversations a lot more than I trust anyone being defensive or trying to list examples or dissecting situations and conversations.
When I was younger, the Big Drama was like candy. Delicious, magical, alcoholic candy that made me feel like the sexiest vixen in the world.
A relationship wasn't interesting unless there was great fighting and great fucking and then I could wake up and say, "We were so drunk."
It wasn't meaningful unless there were angry flashes and heat and frenzied energy whipping up around us, between us, inside of us.
I guess I'm starting to understand that it's okay for me to be attracted to those intense feelings, to crave those and to associate those with a fulfilling relationship.
It's okay because I understand where I was unhealthy in the last and how I am healthy now. I've grown into some self-control and some self-respect.
With those formerly missing components in place, (and more importantly, that I KNOW they were missing and that I KNOW how to recognize them now,) I am totally excited to grab someone's big, extended hand and run head-first into an unknown.
It feels good to know what I'm ready for.
I trust myself ergo I trust the person with whom I would feel an electric current sparking the air around us.
Trust.
I never trusted before roller derby.
There was this moment during the first game of last season.
I'd been on my team for two weeks and was full-on playing roller derby for the first time; I hadn't even had time to be nervous.
I was working the back of the pack and Jezebelle moved up to the front.
I was all alone in the back and I had this seriously visceral epiphany: THIS IS TRUST! THIS is what trust feels like. I can honestly say that I'd never, ever felt it the way I felt it. I understood trust with every fiber of my being and since I was in the midst of playing a full-contact sport, I felt it hard.
That feeling is so ingrained in me and I am so aware of how I trust myself now, how good it feels to be trusted, and how good it feels to really let go and to really just go with it with someone�. I can't wait to apply that in love.
I can't wait to flash into someone and feel a mutual intensity and this time, to know that it's okay.
To trust it.
arizonasarah at 12:06 p.m.