Bobby wanted to come over Wednesday night to cook me dinner. I warned him again that I wouldn't have sex with him. He said he still wanted to pound me hard (what a charmer!) but also talk to my heart through his heart (metrosexual? - he does dress well) because he thinks I'm sexy but also a warm friend and hoped that we could hang out. Sure. So long as his cock wasn't hanging out near my mouth or any other orifice, why not? Maybe we'd become friends?
Bobby proposed to make curry chicken. How could I refuse? Ethan doesn't cook for me, so it would be nice to have someone cook for me. Still lookin' for a Man Friday, ya know. Right now, frozen food from Trader Joe's is my Man Friday but something's lacking. Oh yeah...the man! So on Tuesday we firmed up our plans, and I touched bases with him on Wednesday afternoon to find out if he wanted me to make spicy green beans. Guess not - Bobby suggested we get together some other day. I suspected he wanted to cancel because he knew he wouldn't get laid, and given my (embarrassing to admit) passive aggressive behavior the last time I saw him, I'm not sure why he wanted to subject himself to the same fate anyway. So we carried on our conversation via text message, which itself pissed me off. Don't people call anymore?! I inquired if he canceled because I wouldn't have sex with him. Yep, and because he wasn't a "good Pounder" since I liked having sex with Andy. I had to laugh, but replied that it was a jerk reason to cancel and that canceling via text message was lame. Bobby said he didn't mean it, but it really didn't matter to me. I planned on telling him in person that dating Ethan and Andy was enough, but I was able to take the chicken shit way out. Bawk bawk bawk! The stars were aligned! Phew! We carried on a lengthy conversation via text, but it was finally done. Relief. I feel more at peace now.
This dating racket is rough, but I think it's rough because I make it rough. Earlier in the week I did the chick thing: stressing about Ethan and Andy, how I needed to talk to both of them to set things straight. What does that even mean? "Set things straight?" Who knows. If I don't know, then how am I supposed to do it? I dusted off my books of dating advice, then decided I should just burn them all because reading them stresses me out.
One thing I'm learning: women have the power in heterosexual relationships - men will treat women how women allow themselves to be treated. They're like dogs who need to be trained to please their owner, or orchestra musicians who need an assertive conductor. But I'm too damn nice. I let men walk all over me. For example, Ethan and I had a date (a non-date date, if you ask me) last night. I usually cook us meals at my home but I didn't feel like grocery shopping or cooking last night, so I suggested we have dinner at a taco truck. Neither of us had cash, so we went to my bank's ATM. After we got our money, Ethan said "I shouldn't have let you get money because I could've paid for your meal" and I replied "Oh, it's okay" when I was actually thinking "You still could dumbass, and it would be nice if you did since I've been buying groceries so I can make the meal of your choice practically every Friday night and sometimes on Saturdays for the past four months." We've gone out to eat at least a half dozen times. Do you know how many meals of mine he's paid for? One. And after he paid for that one meal - almost 2 months ago - he felt like we were "dating" and then told me he wanted to "just be friends" even though a week later we decided that we were "dating." But I don't feel like we're dating. I feel like his fucking mom. And why do I feel that way? For one, because I haven't spoken up for myself. And for two, because I've been in the "friend zone" too long and I don't have those types of feelings for him. But I do have those types of feelings for Andy, but who knows how he feels about me - I'm doing my best to keep my stupid chick thoughts at bay. I wish I could bottle them up and maroon them on a small island far away from my mind. My thoughts, not the men. Well, maybe the men too.
I sometimes feel like Annie in the opening of scene of Bridesmaids: she's fucking Ted and hoping for a meaningful relationship but she takes what she can get because she doesn't think much of herself. Yep, that's me sometimes. I'm fairly confident that's why I get into so many fucked up romantic situations - I'm too damn nice and easy going. I usually just go along with whatever the man wants. Raise your hand if you would remain in a relationship with someone who withheld information about his arranged marriage to his cousin for four months until you accidentally found out by seeing a text message on his phone that happened to be from her. Are you raising your hand? No? That's because you're smart. Not me. I stayed. Off and on for 2 more years. It was part of my (very painful) journey, but, really, how dense can I be? A lot of my inability to speak up for myself has to do with the abuse I suffered during my first marriage - if I spoke up, I got yelled at or beaten. Keeping quiet = pain avoidance. But that's not working now because keeping quiet = pain and resentment, and it's my own damn fault. I keep hoping for a man who won't take advantage of my loving, kind, compassionate, caring, trusting, and forgiving nature. This man doesn't exist. I repeat: this man does not exist! At least not for me. I need to set boundaries, have some standards, and ask for what I want until I find the man who'll treat me with the respect that I demand (and deserve). Every man pushes boundaries, even when they're defined. It's exhausting. Bobby was my most recent example. And given my nice and easy going nature and that I'll likely have to continually orchestrate the behavior of men, I'll just consider myself a musical conductor with job security.
I revisited my Dating Advice from an Asshole post to reacquaint myself with Tucker Max's advice: "You can throw out all of your stupid fucking chick-lit, self-help, why-doesn't-he-love-me books out because this is all you need to know: men will treat you the way you let them. There's no such thing as "deserving" respect; you get what you demand from people. Let a guy fuck you in the ass, cum on your back, drink all your beer and then leave, and he'll do it. But if you demand respect, he will either respect you, or he won't associate with you. It really is that simple." And if he won't associate with me, then I don't want or need him anyway. Yep, Bobby can kiss my ass. Well, he would have if I let him but that would have meant that I let him cross a boundary that I told him he couldn't cross. No thanks. Hee hee.
Bobby proposed to make curry chicken. How could I refuse? Ethan doesn't cook for me, so it would be nice to have someone cook for me. Still lookin' for a Man Friday, ya know. Right now, frozen food from Trader Joe's is my Man Friday but something's lacking. Oh yeah...the man! So on Tuesday we firmed up our plans, and I touched bases with him on Wednesday afternoon to find out if he wanted me to make spicy green beans. Guess not - Bobby suggested we get together some other day. I suspected he wanted to cancel because he knew he wouldn't get laid, and given my (embarrassing to admit) passive aggressive behavior the last time I saw him, I'm not sure why he wanted to subject himself to the same fate anyway. So we carried on our conversation via text message, which itself pissed me off. Don't people call anymore?! I inquired if he canceled because I wouldn't have sex with him. Yep, and because he wasn't a "good Pounder" since I liked having sex with Andy. I had to laugh, but replied that it was a jerk reason to cancel and that canceling via text message was lame. Bobby said he didn't mean it, but it really didn't matter to me. I planned on telling him in person that dating Ethan and Andy was enough, but I was able to take the chicken shit way out. Bawk bawk bawk! The stars were aligned! Phew! We carried on a lengthy conversation via text, but it was finally done. Relief. I feel more at peace now.
This dating racket is rough, but I think it's rough because I make it rough. Earlier in the week I did the chick thing: stressing about Ethan and Andy, how I needed to talk to both of them to set things straight. What does that even mean? "Set things straight?" Who knows. If I don't know, then how am I supposed to do it? I dusted off my books of dating advice, then decided I should just burn them all because reading them stresses me out.
One thing I'm learning: women have the power in heterosexual relationships - men will treat women how women allow themselves to be treated. They're like dogs who need to be trained to please their owner, or orchestra musicians who need an assertive conductor. But I'm too damn nice. I let men walk all over me. For example, Ethan and I had a date (a non-date date, if you ask me) last night. I usually cook us meals at my home but I didn't feel like grocery shopping or cooking last night, so I suggested we have dinner at a taco truck. Neither of us had cash, so we went to my bank's ATM. After we got our money, Ethan said "I shouldn't have let you get money because I could've paid for your meal" and I replied "Oh, it's okay" when I was actually thinking "You still could dumbass, and it would be nice if you did since I've been buying groceries so I can make the meal of your choice practically every Friday night and sometimes on Saturdays for the past four months." We've gone out to eat at least a half dozen times. Do you know how many meals of mine he's paid for? One. And after he paid for that one meal - almost 2 months ago - he felt like we were "dating" and then told me he wanted to "just be friends" even though a week later we decided that we were "dating." But I don't feel like we're dating. I feel like his fucking mom. And why do I feel that way? For one, because I haven't spoken up for myself. And for two, because I've been in the "friend zone" too long and I don't have those types of feelings for him. But I do have those types of feelings for Andy, but who knows how he feels about me - I'm doing my best to keep my stupid chick thoughts at bay. I wish I could bottle them up and maroon them on a small island far away from my mind. My thoughts, not the men. Well, maybe the men too.
I sometimes feel like Annie in the opening of scene of Bridesmaids: she's fucking Ted and hoping for a meaningful relationship but she takes what she can get because she doesn't think much of herself. Yep, that's me sometimes. I'm fairly confident that's why I get into so many fucked up romantic situations - I'm too damn nice and easy going. I usually just go along with whatever the man wants. Raise your hand if you would remain in a relationship with someone who withheld information about his arranged marriage to his cousin for four months until you accidentally found out by seeing a text message on his phone that happened to be from her. Are you raising your hand? No? That's because you're smart. Not me. I stayed. Off and on for 2 more years. It was part of my (very painful) journey, but, really, how dense can I be? A lot of my inability to speak up for myself has to do with the abuse I suffered during my first marriage - if I spoke up, I got yelled at or beaten. Keeping quiet = pain avoidance. But that's not working now because keeping quiet = pain and resentment, and it's my own damn fault. I keep hoping for a man who won't take advantage of my loving, kind, compassionate, caring, trusting, and forgiving nature. This man doesn't exist. I repeat: this man does not exist! At least not for me. I need to set boundaries, have some standards, and ask for what I want until I find the man who'll treat me with the respect that I demand (and deserve). Every man pushes boundaries, even when they're defined. It's exhausting. Bobby was my most recent example. And given my nice and easy going nature and that I'll likely have to continually orchestrate the behavior of men, I'll just consider myself a musical conductor with job security.
I revisited my Dating Advice from an Asshole post to reacquaint myself with Tucker Max's advice: "You can throw out all of your stupid fucking chick-lit, self-help, why-doesn't-he-love-me books out because this is all you need to know: men will treat you the way you let them. There's no such thing as "deserving" respect; you get what you demand from people. Let a guy fuck you in the ass, cum on your back, drink all your beer and then leave, and he'll do it. But if you demand respect, he will either respect you, or he won't associate with you. It really is that simple." And if he won't associate with me, then I don't want or need him anyway. Yep, Bobby can kiss my ass. Well, he would have if I let him but that would have meant that I let him cross a boundary that I told him he couldn't cross. No thanks. Hee hee.
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