I realized that I never really told the story of the ring, mostly because I didn't think it made John look very good. (I should mention that after it happened, John apologized and told me he was scared at how much memory loss he was having--I don't think I took that as seriously as I should have.)
We were in a bar, having drinks and I was playing with my ring, from my ring finger on my right hand. I have a tendency to fidget, and I was spinning it and watching the gold revolve around the diamonds, which revolved around the emerald. John asked to see it. Then he asked if he could borrow it. Later that evening, I asked John if he had the ring, and he had lost it.
For at least a month, I believed he still had my ring. It didn't make sense that he had lost it. John, until that point, had been careful with me, and this was not too long after he talked about us being 'for keeps.' The entire situation was odd.
He offered to by me a new ring, and I said that I only wanted a ring from him if it were an engagement ring. That rings had energy and I couldn't accept a ring from him. I bought a replacement for myself, and asked John to buy me some other nice jewelry. He eventually bought me a 'trinket' but it was weird--a magnifying glass/pendant. He didn't mail it until after we had broken off contact and then it was with a note that said "sorry it all turned out so badly. J." I have the 'trinket' but threw out the note only a month ago or so. When I'm 85 and still doing embroidery, it will be quite nice. It is the only think of his I have. I wish I'd kept the note.
A month after the ring, he and I had a huge fight, with tears streaming out of my face like oil out of a BP oilwell. And he said "I never led you on." And I thought, really? REALLY?
A week before he died, he e-mailed me, out of the blue it seemed, and had found my ring. It fell out of his bag. Clearly, he had carefully stowed it in a place for it to elude finding for well over a year. Two weeks after he died I sent an upbeat message to his e-mail saying "Hey--I'm back from my vacation, please mail my ring to...." Two weeks later, his friend contacted me.
His friend and family clearly took the ring as symbolic. I have no idea if John thought it meant something when he stowed it away in his bag. If he ever thought it meant something. I have to believe that he did. He couldn't have been so clueless at any point to be unaware of a ring's symbolic meaning or that a girl he was dating, whom he had talked about 'for keeps' with might see that symbol. But he never let me know it.
I believe the family will get it back to me. I have no idea what I will do with it at that point. It seems to me that that ring has energy. I will probably never wear it again. I would like a ritual where I melt the gold and make something. Fire transforming the very substance.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Remembering John
I'm still in shock about John's death. I loved him SO much. I can't believe it. Somehow, I always felt that we would come to understand each other with loving kindness. If we couldn't be together, we'd trade Christmas cards from our respective families.
I had a fantasy that I would open my blog and find a comment from him. A comment that was loving and accepting and emotionally generous.
But on this blog, I never portrayed him fully. I knew he wasn't perfect, but I felt like it wasn't fair to blog about his faults. They weren't mine to share. But I think to truly remember him, I need to truly remember him as I saw him.
John was SO smart. Scintillating brilliance. And it was a joy to watch him think, to be part of that whirlwind. That said, he relied more on his intellect than his empathy. He was far more committed to honesty than kindness. I think that his integrity was based on truth. I'll gladly omit truth to spare feelings. John, I think, would say that I should have the strength to face the unvarnished truth.
John was inconsistent. He confided in me that he thought he was losing his memory--he'd forget entire things, important things. He forgot about taking my ring. He'd completely forget things he told me. Sometimes I'd review our e-mails and think he was in a different world than mine and I'd have to review what he said to make sure I wasn't going crazy. (He had other health issues too--he thought he had the early signs of Parkinson's. I spoke with a doctor friend yesterday, and she thought he was probably having mini-strokes as his heart was failing; she believed that it would explain things.) That was a health issue, clearly. It also left me feeling crazy sometimes. Our first really big instance of this was talking about S&M. I said something like "if you're looking for reactions, and submission, then I can satisfy you. But if you're looking for exercise, if you want to swing your whip hard, I really can't." And he said "I want the exercise." And then he totally forgot saying that. I have the e-mail. But I can't bear to read them right now. I started and just started crying. Someday, I think our correspondence (heavily edited) would make a hell of a (short) book.
Last month, John was shocked when I told him I had loved him. I thought he was just being obtuse. (I don't think I took his fears about his memory seriously. I have other friends who are 'losing their memory' because they can't remember Sudoku without writing down possibilities. I don't think I realized the extent of what was going on for him.) I think John may have also forgotten that there was a time when he read my blog regularly and would comment to me about things on it, so it was probably natural I thought he would read it if he ever wanted more information.
I do wish the last thing he had said to me hadn't been "Wuss. ;)" because I hadn't told him I loved him before. When in fact I had.
John had been badly abused growing up. Like "state should have taken him away" abused. Like 'locked in the closet for a day because Satan was after him and not fed because God would feed him if he deserved it' abuse. And in my interpretation, John found it very hard to trust people. He once told me "you will never hurt me" after I said something like "Sooner or later, I'm going to fuck up and hurt you. I won't mean to. But I will." And I think what he said was true. No matter how much I fucked up, he would never let me close enough to hurt him.
I honestly think that he drove me away because I scared him. He went through a series of women who took financial advantage of him. He always paid for everything when we went out. He would never let me pair for anything. And he'd order me fancy meals because he knew me well enough to both know what I'd like and that I'd always order one of the three cheapest things on the menu. He protected and cherished me.
But the women before me had always taken money from him. Tens of thousands of dollars. I have to believe that the pattern existed because of the common denominator (John) and that he sought out relationships with people he didn't have to trust because they weren't trustworthy.
I honestly believe that John would have been more fulfilled, according to my subjective definitions of such things, with therapy. And perhaps, if he'd been willing, I'd be a widow right now.
I came perilously close to suicide last year, when he disappeared on me. Not that I would have gone through with it. But it was only the love I have for my family that kept me from doing it. I really couldn't see any joy in my life without John. And if I could have chosen the path for my life, I'd rather be a widow right now. I would love to have had a year and a half with John. But I don't know how I would be surviving right now if I had. Sure, I'd have friends and family and a network of support. But the intensity of my love for John was greater than I think I'll ever have again.
I loved you John.
I love you. I know you will never see the words of this. But I love you.
And I will never forget you. I hope like hell you aren't the great love of my life. But whether or not you are or not, I will always love you. Not maniacally. Not in a way that precludes others. But you touched me so deeply, and I will always love you.
May there be reincarnation. Or something better. And may you find unconditional love and understanding and strength and courage and tenderness. And peace. May there be a God and may that God bless and hold you with a love and strength and tenderness.
I had a fantasy that I would open my blog and find a comment from him. A comment that was loving and accepting and emotionally generous.
But on this blog, I never portrayed him fully. I knew he wasn't perfect, but I felt like it wasn't fair to blog about his faults. They weren't mine to share. But I think to truly remember him, I need to truly remember him as I saw him.
John was SO smart. Scintillating brilliance. And it was a joy to watch him think, to be part of that whirlwind. That said, he relied more on his intellect than his empathy. He was far more committed to honesty than kindness. I think that his integrity was based on truth. I'll gladly omit truth to spare feelings. John, I think, would say that I should have the strength to face the unvarnished truth.
John was inconsistent. He confided in me that he thought he was losing his memory--he'd forget entire things, important things. He forgot about taking my ring. He'd completely forget things he told me. Sometimes I'd review our e-mails and think he was in a different world than mine and I'd have to review what he said to make sure I wasn't going crazy. (He had other health issues too--he thought he had the early signs of Parkinson's. I spoke with a doctor friend yesterday, and she thought he was probably having mini-strokes as his heart was failing; she believed that it would explain things.) That was a health issue, clearly. It also left me feeling crazy sometimes. Our first really big instance of this was talking about S&M. I said something like "if you're looking for reactions, and submission, then I can satisfy you. But if you're looking for exercise, if you want to swing your whip hard, I really can't." And he said "I want the exercise." And then he totally forgot saying that. I have the e-mail. But I can't bear to read them right now. I started and just started crying. Someday, I think our correspondence (heavily edited) would make a hell of a (short) book.
Last month, John was shocked when I told him I had loved him. I thought he was just being obtuse. (I don't think I took his fears about his memory seriously. I have other friends who are 'losing their memory' because they can't remember Sudoku without writing down possibilities. I don't think I realized the extent of what was going on for him.) I think John may have also forgotten that there was a time when he read my blog regularly and would comment to me about things on it, so it was probably natural I thought he would read it if he ever wanted more information.
I do wish the last thing he had said to me hadn't been "Wuss. ;)" because I hadn't told him I loved him before. When in fact I had.
John had been badly abused growing up. Like "state should have taken him away" abused. Like 'locked in the closet for a day because Satan was after him and not fed because God would feed him if he deserved it' abuse. And in my interpretation, John found it very hard to trust people. He once told me "you will never hurt me" after I said something like "Sooner or later, I'm going to fuck up and hurt you. I won't mean to. But I will." And I think what he said was true. No matter how much I fucked up, he would never let me close enough to hurt him.
I honestly think that he drove me away because I scared him. He went through a series of women who took financial advantage of him. He always paid for everything when we went out. He would never let me pair for anything. And he'd order me fancy meals because he knew me well enough to both know what I'd like and that I'd always order one of the three cheapest things on the menu. He protected and cherished me.
But the women before me had always taken money from him. Tens of thousands of dollars. I have to believe that the pattern existed because of the common denominator (John) and that he sought out relationships with people he didn't have to trust because they weren't trustworthy.
I honestly believe that John would have been more fulfilled, according to my subjective definitions of such things, with therapy. And perhaps, if he'd been willing, I'd be a widow right now.
I came perilously close to suicide last year, when he disappeared on me. Not that I would have gone through with it. But it was only the love I have for my family that kept me from doing it. I really couldn't see any joy in my life without John. And if I could have chosen the path for my life, I'd rather be a widow right now. I would love to have had a year and a half with John. But I don't know how I would be surviving right now if I had. Sure, I'd have friends and family and a network of support. But the intensity of my love for John was greater than I think I'll ever have again.
I loved you John.
I love you. I know you will never see the words of this. But I love you.
And I will never forget you. I hope like hell you aren't the great love of my life. But whether or not you are or not, I will always love you. Not maniacally. Not in a way that precludes others. But you touched me so deeply, and I will always love you.
May there be reincarnation. Or something better. And may you find unconditional love and understanding and strength and courage and tenderness. And peace. May there be a God and may that God bless and hold you with a love and strength and tenderness.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
In Memorium
John died a couple of weeks ago. I just found out today.
That was not the closure I wished for.
I think he was happy right before he died. He was with his family at a picnic. I really can't think of anything he'd rather be doing than having a picnic with his family. He had such ostracization from his family, for so long. And he tried to throw a picnic for them a decade ago, and none of them came. I hope he was truly happy and fulfilled.
He had an aneurysm and died three days later.
I hope there is reincarnation. My grandma died a couple of years ago. And I miss her, at least once a week. But I can accept that. For John, I can't really accept it. There must be something else. There just must. I want John to know true, unconditional love. At accept and give it. Maybe he had gotten there with his family. I hope so!
His friend e-mailed me to ask me for my phone number and called me.
The family found my ring. And the family tried to figure out the story behind the ring. His friend said "We didn't know he'd ever been engaged."
I told his friend we never had. That he'd borrowed my ring, and I wrongly thought... and his friend said "of course." That meant a lot to me. His family and friends took that seriously. It wasn't all in my head.
I can't imagine how I'd feel if we'd become partners. I'd be horrified that I didn't get him to change. And yet, I would have been very wary of nagging. Of trying to change him. And then I would have blamed myself. I don't know how I would have survived that.
That was not the closure I wished for.
I think he was happy right before he died. He was with his family at a picnic. I really can't think of anything he'd rather be doing than having a picnic with his family. He had such ostracization from his family, for so long. And he tried to throw a picnic for them a decade ago, and none of them came. I hope he was truly happy and fulfilled.
He had an aneurysm and died three days later.
I hope there is reincarnation. My grandma died a couple of years ago. And I miss her, at least once a week. But I can accept that. For John, I can't really accept it. There must be something else. There just must. I want John to know true, unconditional love. At accept and give it. Maybe he had gotten there with his family. I hope so!
His friend e-mailed me to ask me for my phone number and called me.
The family found my ring. And the family tried to figure out the story behind the ring. His friend said "We didn't know he'd ever been engaged."
I told his friend we never had. That he'd borrowed my ring, and I wrongly thought... and his friend said "of course." That meant a lot to me. His family and friends took that seriously. It wasn't all in my head.
I can't imagine how I'd feel if we'd become partners. I'd be horrified that I didn't get him to change. And yet, I would have been very wary of nagging. Of trying to change him. And then I would have blamed myself. I don't know how I would have survived that.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Arrogance
John said I'm arrogant, and he's right.
The only thing I will automatically defer to John on are areas which I know I don't know anything about (hard sciences) or any criticisms of me. All pretty much anyone has to do is criticize me on anything--if it rings true, I accept it as true. (Interestingly, a friend of a friend, whom I knew in college, recently dropped by my city and told my friend that I looked "So old. So very old! What happened to her!" And it really didn't bother me. I think I'm aging pretty darn well. But if I had wrinkles, I'm sure I would have been devastated.)
So, how do I deal with this?
The first part is that I am smarter than average. Assuming that IQs measure something, albeit imprecise and incomplete, mine is 154, which is quite outside the standard deviation of a typical the bell curve. (Oooh, I always knew I was a deviant!) Interestingly, I guard that number as careful as my weight, and I think that that number has more to do with being single than my weight. So it's not like I'm going to sit down with Sarah Palin and think that her opinions are just as well formed as mine are. Part of the reason I love Obama is I no longer think I'm smarter than the president, and I'm glad!
I definitely try not to let on when I'm dating. I spent a decade (literally) playing dumb on dates. (One of the things I loved doing with John was playing dumb, because he never, ever took me seriously, and it was both fun and also affirming.) I am very selective about whom I date. Most men, I sort of tune out and go into small talk that feels quite superficial. And then I don't want to seem them again. I really want someone who will match me, whom I don't have to be self-conscious about being weird. In fact, it is almost the same thing with body types. I really prefer to date a guy who is either taller than me or bigger. The only guy I dated who was my height (I'm 5'4", if it matters) was very buff, so I didn't feel like a freak around him.
Next: I have a pretty clearly demarcated comfort zone of ideas, and I don't take seriously people outside of those ideas. (For example, I recently refused to date someone who said that evolution is wrong and has no place being taught in the public schools. I also have never dated a 9-11 truther successfully--when I've asked to agree to disagree, both times I received diatribes about how stupid I was.) I think The Wall Street Journal is about as far as I'm comfortable going on the right, and The Nation is about as far as I'm comfortable going on the left. (Clearly, much, much more solidly on the left. I'm absolutely a liberal.)
The third issue is more interesting. I have a thing for authority figures. Duh. So I tend to very carefully screen my authority figures, and when I find them, I tend to trust them. Paul Krugman, for example, is someone I really trust when it comes to economic news. I used to read alternet until they said that Karl Rove was going to be indicted in the Valarie Plame thing (and I repeated it). When they were wrong, I totally cut them out of my reading. (Interestingly, the NY Times was awfully wrong about Iraq, but I seem to have gotten over that. I think I'm more comfortable with more established media--a major mistake in a blog will impact me quite differently than the Times, or The Economist or the New York Review of Books--my 3 favorite print sources.)
Take fivetwentyeight.com. With the 2008 election, a lot of my friends were talking about how much they loved 528, but I was skeptical. I started going there, but also went to a variety of other sources. Even though their methodology seemed quite sound and transparent, I was skeptical (mostly because it was telling me what I wanted to hear.) However, as soon as the election happened, and 528 came within .1 of 1% of predicting the final percentage, I was hooked. Now, I tend to defer to 528 and I no longer go to the other sources.
I tend to trust my expert authorities more than people in real life.
A couple of examples.
I was on a date tonight and last week the guy was telling me that the Nederlands was absolutely going to win the world cup and I (stupidly) said "I don't think so. I really think Brazil is going to win." And I (stupidly) cited stats. Now, it turns out now, he may right, but I still can't agree with the absolutely part. But why not? Why did I say "It really seems like a toss-up to me--I think German and Spain are really strong too." Why can't I just say "I'm sure you're right?" He's cares about soccer much more than I do. Why on earth am I so obsessed with what I see as facts?
But if I say "I'm sure you're right" I sound condescending. And I tend to only do that with people I don't respect. To me, pushing my point (even though I was wrong last week, and I did apologize and tell him I was wrong) is a sign that I respect someone.
Finally, there's the question of why on earth I want to have intellectual discussions if the people I'm discussing it with aren't going to change my mind. I LOVE discussions where people tend to agree on a lot but have different interpretations or areas of interest or assumed reactions. I love looking at an issue from a point of view I hadn't considered. I really love making connections between seemingly discrete ideas. I love hearing ideas I hadn't thought of before. And most of all, I love it when someone else and I have similar ideas and overlaps, without having the same points of view, and we each add something to build a connection that hasn't really been explored.
I really connect to people on an intellectual plane before I connect on a physical plane.
I'm going on a date tomorrow with a guy, and I know he thinks we should immediately cut spending to deal with the deficit. And I don't. I think we should restructure the longer-term issue, which keeping short-run deficits higher on infrastructure and other quick projects to stimulate spending. I sort of feel like if the U.S. were a family that found out one of its members was really ill and they had lost a source of income, you don't skimp on the short-term medical care bills, but you do restructure the long term balance of spending to income. (Oooh, isn't this sexy? I'm wet already.)
So, he is making an argument I've heard, and disagree with. It is an argument that I don't take seriously because I pretty much by Keynes when you're in a recession, even if I do think we need to take cost cutting and greater regulation MUCH more seriously at the next expansion. But I think the short-term economy needs stimulating. (OK, at least there's a little talk of stimulation. You know, I think I most fell for the guy I dated this year and last during some phone sex about climate change: Oh, I'm so hot. The air. It's dirty. And it's getting hotter. And hotter. And hotter. It's making me wet! Isn't it hard to change? How hard is it? We laughed so hard after that. It was really, really fun!!)
So, my plans for tomorrow are to look for connections, to try and find places we agree and then build from there. I'm never going to just think: poof--you're idea is better than mine. Or frankly your idea is equally valid to mine if it is something one of my beloved authorities has spent significant time on refuting and that argument seems to hold water for me. But maybe I can find a way to be less arrogant.
The only thing I will automatically defer to John on are areas which I know I don't know anything about (hard sciences) or any criticisms of me. All pretty much anyone has to do is criticize me on anything--if it rings true, I accept it as true. (Interestingly, a friend of a friend, whom I knew in college, recently dropped by my city and told my friend that I looked "So old. So very old! What happened to her!" And it really didn't bother me. I think I'm aging pretty darn well. But if I had wrinkles, I'm sure I would have been devastated.)
So, how do I deal with this?
The first part is that I am smarter than average. Assuming that IQs measure something, albeit imprecise and incomplete, mine is 154, which is quite outside the standard deviation of a typical the bell curve. (Oooh, I always knew I was a deviant!) Interestingly, I guard that number as careful as my weight, and I think that that number has more to do with being single than my weight. So it's not like I'm going to sit down with Sarah Palin and think that her opinions are just as well formed as mine are. Part of the reason I love Obama is I no longer think I'm smarter than the president, and I'm glad!
I definitely try not to let on when I'm dating. I spent a decade (literally) playing dumb on dates. (One of the things I loved doing with John was playing dumb, because he never, ever took me seriously, and it was both fun and also affirming.) I am very selective about whom I date. Most men, I sort of tune out and go into small talk that feels quite superficial. And then I don't want to seem them again. I really want someone who will match me, whom I don't have to be self-conscious about being weird. In fact, it is almost the same thing with body types. I really prefer to date a guy who is either taller than me or bigger. The only guy I dated who was my height (I'm 5'4", if it matters) was very buff, so I didn't feel like a freak around him.
Next: I have a pretty clearly demarcated comfort zone of ideas, and I don't take seriously people outside of those ideas. (For example, I recently refused to date someone who said that evolution is wrong and has no place being taught in the public schools. I also have never dated a 9-11 truther successfully--when I've asked to agree to disagree, both times I received diatribes about how stupid I was.) I think The Wall Street Journal is about as far as I'm comfortable going on the right, and The Nation is about as far as I'm comfortable going on the left. (Clearly, much, much more solidly on the left. I'm absolutely a liberal.)
The third issue is more interesting. I have a thing for authority figures. Duh. So I tend to very carefully screen my authority figures, and when I find them, I tend to trust them. Paul Krugman, for example, is someone I really trust when it comes to economic news. I used to read alternet until they said that Karl Rove was going to be indicted in the Valarie Plame thing (and I repeated it). When they were wrong, I totally cut them out of my reading. (Interestingly, the NY Times was awfully wrong about Iraq, but I seem to have gotten over that. I think I'm more comfortable with more established media--a major mistake in a blog will impact me quite differently than the Times, or The Economist or the New York Review of Books--my 3 favorite print sources.)
Take fivetwentyeight.com. With the 2008 election, a lot of my friends were talking about how much they loved 528, but I was skeptical. I started going there, but also went to a variety of other sources. Even though their methodology seemed quite sound and transparent, I was skeptical (mostly because it was telling me what I wanted to hear.) However, as soon as the election happened, and 528 came within .1 of 1% of predicting the final percentage, I was hooked. Now, I tend to defer to 528 and I no longer go to the other sources.
I tend to trust my expert authorities more than people in real life.
A couple of examples.
I was on a date tonight and last week the guy was telling me that the Nederlands was absolutely going to win the world cup and I (stupidly) said "I don't think so. I really think Brazil is going to win." And I (stupidly) cited stats. Now, it turns out now, he may right, but I still can't agree with the absolutely part. But why not? Why did I say "It really seems like a toss-up to me--I think German and Spain are really strong too." Why can't I just say "I'm sure you're right?" He's cares about soccer much more than I do. Why on earth am I so obsessed with what I see as facts?
But if I say "I'm sure you're right" I sound condescending. And I tend to only do that with people I don't respect. To me, pushing my point (even though I was wrong last week, and I did apologize and tell him I was wrong) is a sign that I respect someone.
Finally, there's the question of why on earth I want to have intellectual discussions if the people I'm discussing it with aren't going to change my mind. I LOVE discussions where people tend to agree on a lot but have different interpretations or areas of interest or assumed reactions. I love looking at an issue from a point of view I hadn't considered. I really love making connections between seemingly discrete ideas. I love hearing ideas I hadn't thought of before. And most of all, I love it when someone else and I have similar ideas and overlaps, without having the same points of view, and we each add something to build a connection that hasn't really been explored.
I really connect to people on an intellectual plane before I connect on a physical plane.
I'm going on a date tomorrow with a guy, and I know he thinks we should immediately cut spending to deal with the deficit. And I don't. I think we should restructure the longer-term issue, which keeping short-run deficits higher on infrastructure and other quick projects to stimulate spending. I sort of feel like if the U.S. were a family that found out one of its members was really ill and they had lost a source of income, you don't skimp on the short-term medical care bills, but you do restructure the long term balance of spending to income. (Oooh, isn't this sexy? I'm wet already.)
So, he is making an argument I've heard, and disagree with. It is an argument that I don't take seriously because I pretty much by Keynes when you're in a recession, even if I do think we need to take cost cutting and greater regulation MUCH more seriously at the next expansion. But I think the short-term economy needs stimulating. (OK, at least there's a little talk of stimulation. You know, I think I most fell for the guy I dated this year and last during some phone sex about climate change: Oh, I'm so hot. The air. It's dirty. And it's getting hotter. And hotter. And hotter. It's making me wet! Isn't it hard to change? How hard is it? We laughed so hard after that. It was really, really fun!!)
So, my plans for tomorrow are to look for connections, to try and find places we agree and then build from there. I'm never going to just think: poof--you're idea is better than mine. Or frankly your idea is equally valid to mine if it is something one of my beloved authorities has spent significant time on refuting and that argument seems to hold water for me. But maybe I can find a way to be less arrogant.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Homelessness, John and Xanax
This has been the week from hell.
I'm supposed to move into a new house, and the contractor hasn't finished the construction and I was supposed to move in on Wednesday, when they discovered a plumbing problem at the final inspection, and it will be 2-weeks to a month before we can close (goodbye tax credit!), and I don't know how much longer my old landlord will give me because I was supposed to be out on the first. So really a week from hell.
And then John e-mails me. Can you believe it? And at first I tried to be standoffish, but I'm not good at that, and then I was earnest, and that was a mistake.
I opened a huge can of worms I didn't mean to open. I thought it was painfully obvious to him that I had loved him. And it seemed at times that we both had fears about not being lovable. So I said something along the lines of "I really did love you. And I hope you find someone who you can love too," well evidently that wasn't as blaringly obvious as I thought. Although, I really don't know how it couldn't have been obvious. Especially since he read this blog on at least one occasion, and I think more. But I'm a Scorpio. And Jerry thought I wasn't emotionally open enough with him (perhaps because I wasn't in love with him), so I need to take that seriously.
John was quite blunt about some of my many faults. I don't get it. Why can't he just say "I wish you all the best. Have a lovely life?" He isn't even living here anymore. I've been avoiding his area of town as much as I can, and he left over a year ago! I wish he'd told me that much, at least.
John contacted me because he found my ring that he had lost. My ring that I wore on the ring finger of my right hand. He asked to look at it, and somehow, it ended up somewhere in his messenger bag and he didn't find it till now.
Here's the thing that I don't think I've confessed to anyone. When he asked to borrow my ring, I thought it was because he wanted to get the size. It was shortly after he said something about how we were playing for keeps, and how he'd had fast food, but didn't want fast food. This was two chefs planning the best meal of their lives. And later that week he asked to look at my ring. And then it disappeared.
Was it all in my head? Do guys normally borrow a gal's ring and misplace it, if they aren't trying to get the size? Did he care about me at all? Did he just casually ask to look at my ring. Granted, it was a lovely ring with a little Sapphire and 2 teeny weeny tiny diamonds. The only piece of real jewelry I'd ever bought for myself. But it isn't like a pair of earrings or a necklace. A ring on a ring finger is symbolic. Don't guys know that rings mean something? The ex gave me a ring once, but it had lots of stones. And I immediately put it on my right ring finger. And I'm pretty sure I could have turned that into a left finger gift. (He later asked me, on 2 separate occasions, what I'd say if he asked me to marry him. And his ex-wife had turned a birthday present ring into an engagement ring, so his modus operandi seems to have been to give rings as gifts and see howthey were taken.)
Anyway, my ring fell into John's bag and stayed hidden for a year and a half. Or was he getting my ring size, purposefully hid it in his bag, then something happened and he changed his mind and forgot about the ring. I'll never know. A big part of me says 'there's no way he felt that way about you. You're fooling yourself.' But it makes me crazy to think it was all in my head. I hope he did care and I wasn't just making sand castles in the clouds. If he didn't care, he was sloppy about symbols. I don't think I was crazy for thinking that there might have been something behind that.
But looking at his 15 e-mails in two days (yeah--he and I have always been intense with each other), I can't imagine that he actually cared about me with anything more than a passing glance. He was very clear about my faults. I'm arrogant, stupid, politically partisan (that I know about, although I think I'm less so than I was), and opaque. And lack courage.
There are places where his analysis of my faults is absolutely right. And that analysis could only come from someone who knew me so well. "Your different halves are not friends. In some of your modes, you're wishing for the strength of another to gird and encircle you, for another to lead you so that you can be free from presenting an image you don't always feel." Yeah--he hit the nail on the head there. I would love to find someone I could be weak with, someone to protect me, so I could relax. In the first grade, my parents didn't protect me. Blah. Blah. Blah. But I think that little first grader is still looking for protection.
But he also thinks "you're dealing with the wish that you were stronger and smarter by pretending to be." That doesn't ring true to me. I don't want to be stronger. I want someone else to protect me so I don't have to be strong. There are times I feel like I'm not strong enough to get up one more time, but what is strength if not the ability to get up when you've been hit down too many times? And I've never consciously wished to be smarter in my life. I do think that I became more intellectually lazy during the last decade, and he definitely noticed places where I'm intellectually lazy. And I do tend to rely on experts in a way that annoys him. Annoyed him. There's a Freudian slip. I think part of getting a JD taught me to use precedent to support any opinion I had--that my opinion must be upheld by other sources and I do that all the time, not just with the law. And that annoyed him. I'm OK with that. It is different ways of approaching ideas. Like an argument about economics (is deflation a bigger threat or inflation--I drove him crazy with my concern about deflationary pressures. We disagreed, but I don't think he is automatically right. And I would point to the fact that someone like Paul Krugman also think deflation is a huge cause for concern, and that would drive him crazy! I do, however, hope he is right--I think deflation would be more dangerous and inflation is more likely. Thus the fixed rate on my mortgage. Anyway, that's the sort of intellectual argument that I would just LOVE until I'd piss him off by appealing to Brad Delong or Paul Krugman or the guy that writes that blog about economics on Salon.com or the Economist or whatever I happened to read most recently, and then I'd get really upset that I pissed him off (and I didn't even realize what would upset him until maybe this blog entry) and try to find a way to make it better by saying whatever I thought he wanted to hear.)
So, what did I learn:
a) Xanax is a wonderful invention!! Practically homeless (although I keep telling myself it is temporary), and broke (good-bye tax credit) and having John briefly pop up in the same week, and my blood pressure is still normal! A night crying, and, OK, a little tearing up while I'm writing this. But I'm kind of shocked at what good shape I'm in!
b) I can never tell anyone I date about this blog. I think part of the fuck-up is that John never told he 'yes I'm reading it' or 'no, I won't read it.' I specifically asked him if he'd tell me one way or the other, and he refused, so I figured he was reading it. Or would whenever he wanted to know what I was thinking. And so I was perhaps less clear with him because I already felt like I was beating a dead horse.
c) John is not kind towards me. (Or at least not in the way I define it. Maybe his definition is different.) He is honest and perceptive. But he isn't willing to gloss over my flaws. He actually called me arrogant in a long e-mail listing all the areas in which I'm intellectually deficient (Hard Sciences, Sociology, Psychology, Economics and Politics). So, yeah, maybe I'm arrogant (although arrogance isn't how I feel about it--I honestly wish my IQ was in the 'normal' range--I feel a little like a freak. There was an 0n-line quiz of whether or not you'll get married (for women) and they took away points if your IQ was above 140. And I think that's true. But I'd bet anything that John and I had statistically equivalent IQs. One of the things I loved about him is that I didn't feel self-conscious about being a freak around him.) But I wouldn't say he's in the running for humblest person of the year.
d) I don't think I'm 'submissive' anymore. That part of me feels pretty darn dead. And, unfortunately, my sex drive went with it. Isn't it funny? It is SO much easier to date now that I don't crave sex. Men claim they want someone with a high sex drive. But they treat me much better now that I'm more neutral on the subject. I'm open to meeting someone that changes my view on that. But I'm open to meeting someone who loves soccer so much his passion makes me love it too. Possible. But I'm certainly not counting on it!
e) John had me on a many-months audition to be his girlfriend, and then wondered why I wasn't more confident around him. I don't audition well when I care about something. (Ironically, I do audition well when I don't care.) I don't think I could be a professional actor.
f) The mismatch in our interest in the other probably doomed anything from the start.
g) It is possible that I should have been more open with him. I think not having shared my blog with him would have made it more likely that I wouldn't have felt like I was beating a dead horse. I honestly felt like I had made it abundantly clear how I felt and was surprised that he didn't know.
h) I wonder if I 'play games.' I don't necessarily do it purposefully. But with John it felt like I had to give him space in order to find his own feelings. It's like if I'm talking to someone that is a 'close talker' I'll take a step back, and they take a step forward, and I'm always moving away to have some space. I didn't want to be a close-talker to John. I felt if I told him how I felt, it would scare him. I want someone to meet me, not feel like I'm running him down. Maybe that's a mistake. But I don't think things would have been different.
I would have liked some closure. It's funny--years ago, we were walking down the street on a cold day, on our way to a sushi restaurant, and I was wearing a blue scarf with a black wool jacket. I had bought that scarf on the way to the date, to have some color next to my face. And he said "You'd be a hell of a catch." I can't wear that scarf without thinking of that.
But that was before he knew me. Now that he knows the real me, not just my more public persona, I'm just arrogant, and stupid and cowardly and, well he said some nice things too. They weren't fuck-you e-mails. They were honest appraisals from someone who knows me well. But honest appraisals make me focus on the bad parts and want to prove myself. It would be nice if he could write me something like "You know, you would be a hell of a catch; we were on different time frames and different waves. But I do wish you a lovely life. I'm glad I knew you."
I'm supposed to move into a new house, and the contractor hasn't finished the construction and I was supposed to move in on Wednesday, when they discovered a plumbing problem at the final inspection, and it will be 2-weeks to a month before we can close (goodbye tax credit!), and I don't know how much longer my old landlord will give me because I was supposed to be out on the first. So really a week from hell.
And then John e-mails me. Can you believe it? And at first I tried to be standoffish, but I'm not good at that, and then I was earnest, and that was a mistake.
I opened a huge can of worms I didn't mean to open. I thought it was painfully obvious to him that I had loved him. And it seemed at times that we both had fears about not being lovable. So I said something along the lines of "I really did love you. And I hope you find someone who you can love too," well evidently that wasn't as blaringly obvious as I thought. Although, I really don't know how it couldn't have been obvious. Especially since he read this blog on at least one occasion, and I think more. But I'm a Scorpio. And Jerry thought I wasn't emotionally open enough with him (perhaps because I wasn't in love with him), so I need to take that seriously.
John was quite blunt about some of my many faults. I don't get it. Why can't he just say "I wish you all the best. Have a lovely life?" He isn't even living here anymore. I've been avoiding his area of town as much as I can, and he left over a year ago! I wish he'd told me that much, at least.
John contacted me because he found my ring that he had lost. My ring that I wore on the ring finger of my right hand. He asked to look at it, and somehow, it ended up somewhere in his messenger bag and he didn't find it till now.
Here's the thing that I don't think I've confessed to anyone. When he asked to borrow my ring, I thought it was because he wanted to get the size. It was shortly after he said something about how we were playing for keeps, and how he'd had fast food, but didn't want fast food. This was two chefs planning the best meal of their lives. And later that week he asked to look at my ring. And then it disappeared.
Was it all in my head? Do guys normally borrow a gal's ring and misplace it, if they aren't trying to get the size? Did he care about me at all? Did he just casually ask to look at my ring. Granted, it was a lovely ring with a little Sapphire and 2 teeny weeny tiny diamonds. The only piece of real jewelry I'd ever bought for myself. But it isn't like a pair of earrings or a necklace. A ring on a ring finger is symbolic. Don't guys know that rings mean something? The ex gave me a ring once, but it had lots of stones. And I immediately put it on my right ring finger. And I'm pretty sure I could have turned that into a left finger gift. (He later asked me, on 2 separate occasions, what I'd say if he asked me to marry him. And his ex-wife had turned a birthday present ring into an engagement ring, so his modus operandi seems to have been to give rings as gifts and see howthey were taken.)
Anyway, my ring fell into John's bag and stayed hidden for a year and a half. Or was he getting my ring size, purposefully hid it in his bag, then something happened and he changed his mind and forgot about the ring. I'll never know. A big part of me says 'there's no way he felt that way about you. You're fooling yourself.' But it makes me crazy to think it was all in my head. I hope he did care and I wasn't just making sand castles in the clouds. If he didn't care, he was sloppy about symbols. I don't think I was crazy for thinking that there might have been something behind that.
But looking at his 15 e-mails in two days (yeah--he and I have always been intense with each other), I can't imagine that he actually cared about me with anything more than a passing glance. He was very clear about my faults. I'm arrogant, stupid, politically partisan (that I know about, although I think I'm less so than I was), and opaque. And lack courage.
There are places where his analysis of my faults is absolutely right. And that analysis could only come from someone who knew me so well. "Your different halves are not friends. In some of your modes, you're wishing for the strength of another to gird and encircle you, for another to lead you so that you can be free from presenting an image you don't always feel." Yeah--he hit the nail on the head there. I would love to find someone I could be weak with, someone to protect me, so I could relax. In the first grade, my parents didn't protect me. Blah. Blah. Blah. But I think that little first grader is still looking for protection.
But he also thinks "you're dealing with the wish that you were stronger and smarter by pretending to be." That doesn't ring true to me. I don't want to be stronger. I want someone else to protect me so I don't have to be strong. There are times I feel like I'm not strong enough to get up one more time, but what is strength if not the ability to get up when you've been hit down too many times? And I've never consciously wished to be smarter in my life. I do think that I became more intellectually lazy during the last decade, and he definitely noticed places where I'm intellectually lazy. And I do tend to rely on experts in a way that annoys him. Annoyed him. There's a Freudian slip. I think part of getting a JD taught me to use precedent to support any opinion I had--that my opinion must be upheld by other sources and I do that all the time, not just with the law. And that annoyed him. I'm OK with that. It is different ways of approaching ideas. Like an argument about economics (is deflation a bigger threat or inflation--I drove him crazy with my concern about deflationary pressures. We disagreed, but I don't think he is automatically right. And I would point to the fact that someone like Paul Krugman also think deflation is a huge cause for concern, and that would drive him crazy! I do, however, hope he is right--I think deflation would be more dangerous and inflation is more likely. Thus the fixed rate on my mortgage. Anyway, that's the sort of intellectual argument that I would just LOVE until I'd piss him off by appealing to Brad Delong or Paul Krugman or the guy that writes that blog about economics on Salon.com or the Economist or whatever I happened to read most recently, and then I'd get really upset that I pissed him off (and I didn't even realize what would upset him until maybe this blog entry) and try to find a way to make it better by saying whatever I thought he wanted to hear.)
So, what did I learn:
a) Xanax is a wonderful invention!! Practically homeless (although I keep telling myself it is temporary), and broke (good-bye tax credit) and having John briefly pop up in the same week, and my blood pressure is still normal! A night crying, and, OK, a little tearing up while I'm writing this. But I'm kind of shocked at what good shape I'm in!
b) I can never tell anyone I date about this blog. I think part of the fuck-up is that John never told he 'yes I'm reading it' or 'no, I won't read it.' I specifically asked him if he'd tell me one way or the other, and he refused, so I figured he was reading it. Or would whenever he wanted to know what I was thinking. And so I was perhaps less clear with him because I already felt like I was beating a dead horse.
c) John is not kind towards me. (Or at least not in the way I define it. Maybe his definition is different.) He is honest and perceptive. But he isn't willing to gloss over my flaws. He actually called me arrogant in a long e-mail listing all the areas in which I'm intellectually deficient (Hard Sciences, Sociology, Psychology, Economics and Politics). So, yeah, maybe I'm arrogant (although arrogance isn't how I feel about it--I honestly wish my IQ was in the 'normal' range--I feel a little like a freak. There was an 0n-line quiz of whether or not you'll get married (for women) and they took away points if your IQ was above 140. And I think that's true. But I'd bet anything that John and I had statistically equivalent IQs. One of the things I loved about him is that I didn't feel self-conscious about being a freak around him.) But I wouldn't say he's in the running for humblest person of the year.
d) I don't think I'm 'submissive' anymore. That part of me feels pretty darn dead. And, unfortunately, my sex drive went with it. Isn't it funny? It is SO much easier to date now that I don't crave sex. Men claim they want someone with a high sex drive. But they treat me much better now that I'm more neutral on the subject. I'm open to meeting someone that changes my view on that. But I'm open to meeting someone who loves soccer so much his passion makes me love it too. Possible. But I'm certainly not counting on it!
e) John had me on a many-months audition to be his girlfriend, and then wondered why I wasn't more confident around him. I don't audition well when I care about something. (Ironically, I do audition well when I don't care.) I don't think I could be a professional actor.
f) The mismatch in our interest in the other probably doomed anything from the start.
g) It is possible that I should have been more open with him. I think not having shared my blog with him would have made it more likely that I wouldn't have felt like I was beating a dead horse. I honestly felt like I had made it abundantly clear how I felt and was surprised that he didn't know.
h) I wonder if I 'play games.' I don't necessarily do it purposefully. But with John it felt like I had to give him space in order to find his own feelings. It's like if I'm talking to someone that is a 'close talker' I'll take a step back, and they take a step forward, and I'm always moving away to have some space. I didn't want to be a close-talker to John. I felt if I told him how I felt, it would scare him. I want someone to meet me, not feel like I'm running him down. Maybe that's a mistake. But I don't think things would have been different.
I would have liked some closure. It's funny--years ago, we were walking down the street on a cold day, on our way to a sushi restaurant, and I was wearing a blue scarf with a black wool jacket. I had bought that scarf on the way to the date, to have some color next to my face. And he said "You'd be a hell of a catch." I can't wear that scarf without thinking of that.
But that was before he knew me. Now that he knows the real me, not just my more public persona, I'm just arrogant, and stupid and cowardly and, well he said some nice things too. They weren't fuck-you e-mails. They were honest appraisals from someone who knows me well. But honest appraisals make me focus on the bad parts and want to prove myself. It would be nice if he could write me something like "You know, you would be a hell of a catch; we were on different time frames and different waves. But I do wish you a lovely life. I'm glad I knew you."
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Submission Vs. Unconditional Love
I was struck by my statement in the last post that I want unconditional love because the whole D/s dynamic is the exact opposite. The in D/s dynamic I know, it gives me a way to earn love--to prove I'm lovable.
When I have been obedient, and he grabs my hair, then kisses me and whispers 'good girl,' oh, I melt.
I also notice that I do things for people. All the time. I don't have a problem with that. I enjoy tending to people's needs. I love taking care of people.
But with 'my ex'--me needs a name. Not the recent ex, the long ago ex, let's call him Antony. I suppose that makes me Cleopatra. I can live with that. With Antony, there was never a sense of him just delighting in my the way I am. With the guy I dated this year, I would wake up and he would be playing with my hair and stroking my face and I wanted to stay in his arms for ever.
I think if I ever try D/s again, it would have to be after that dynamic, the sense that he cherished me, even when I was sleeping, was already established.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Dieting, submission and unconditional love
I'm reading this terrific diet book called The Four-Day Win. In it, she posits that traditional diets create a mind/computer/dictator/predator versus creature/wild child/prey dichotomy. The we override our sensory data to try and lose weight and inevitably the creature/wild child/prey rebels. I'm finding this book incredibly useful to me. I think for me, at least, this is true. (I had a minor medical procedure earlier this year, but I gained 10 pounds and have lost those 10 pounds in the last month. I'm going to keep working with this book because it is incredibly useful. I'm enjoying food more and having some amazing splurges but eating less.)
Several things I've found as I've been journaling and exploring this book.
My "Wild Child" wants unconditional love. A very great part of me doesn't believe I should have to lose weight to be loved. Another part of me says "nonsense--everyone is judged on what they look like before they are judged on who they are." But deep, deep down, I don't want to accept that. I think a huge reason as to why I loved John so much was that sense that it was about who I was more than what I looked like. Between the thousands of e-mails and the hours walking and talking, and the pictures he took of me not at my best that he thought revealed a vulnerability that I don't show (and he recognized that), he and I connected deep down.
And when he didn't fall in love with me, it felt like a rejection of who I am, not what I look like.
I don't know what to do with that information. I know I'd rather be loved for what I look like, than not loved at all. I also think if I were a size 4, I'd be pretty fucking hot. I gained weight early enough in my life that I don't really think these issues were at play, but I'm just holding them as a possibility.
I have ignored my "wild child" for much of my life. I started "Weight Watchers" officially in the 4th grade (although I'd been dieting much earlier than that). I never really enjoyed sweets. I wolfed them down like a prey animal about to be attacked.
I think submission was linked to this. That an outside protector would hurt me, but also protect me and grant me pleasure. (I do notice the past tense. I think, right now, the past tense is appropriate.)
So I'm trying to be kinder to my 'wild child' and figure out exactly what she wants, rather than losing control and having things that don't delight her. It does seem, if she is honored and delighted once a week or so, she is happy to be healthy the rest of the week. We'll see if that continues.
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