A friend asked me if I was a masochist yesterday. I may have been called many things but never this.
I have an extremely low pain threshold. I'm uncomfortable with the slightest change of temperature and delight in all things fluffy and cute.
I gasped at him, shocked by the accusation. Yet when he explained himself I started to understand that I may very well be a masochist. Except my pleasure comes not from whips and chains but rather the heart-wrenching thing that is emotional pain. I put myself in situations to get hurt. It's always with the same person, I can't take a hint. I make excuses for a person treating me badly and without respect. I consider myself a logical person, people come to me for advice. I may be a bit hot-headed but don't usually make impulsive or irrational decisions. I like to think that despite my penchant for daydreaming which feeds my creativity, I live in the real world.
Why then when I broke up with my ex the first time, did I think it was a plausible excuse for him to not have asked for me back within the first couple months, that the UEFA champions league was on?! I was sure that as soon as he got his soccer fix he would come running.
In my efforts to show him what he was missing I used to cook him a full slap up dinner of chicken Tikka with homemade Roti, which I slaved over for hours, even coming home early from work in order to allow myself enough preparation time, this was a mid-week dinner by the way because he wasn't able to see me during the weekend when we were just friends. I'd pretend that it was just something I put together quickly, no big deal. And he'd eat until there was chicken tikka splattered allover his shirt and staining the sides of his mouth, he'd belch, give me a hug and then leave, only contacting me again the next week when he had time to see me again. How could I think that was normal? It was so hurtful yet I did it over and over again and yes, perhaps taking pleasure in the pain my heart was feeling.
How little self-respect did I have that he could give me rules when we got back together for how often we could see eachother, how much he could give me etc. It felt like a business negotiation, I asked for more, we bartered, eventually came to an agreement, those were the terms of our relationship. Seeing eachother twice a week, not allowing our relationship to get in the way of his studying- never mind my new job. And then the excuses started. He wouldn't come over because he was studying or sick, he couldn't bear to drive to me blah blah blah.
But I excepted those things, all the time feeling so hurt and rejected but I sucked it all up.
I watched a show the other day about a woman in a relationship with an emotionally unavailable man. The psychologist asked her, "How much do you have to work for your friends' affection? What do you have to do to get love from them?" And she answered simply "Nothing" It's the same with me, I have friends and family that love me, that care for me, that want nothing more than to be around me. Why did I have to work so hard just to be around the man I loved.
We lived 10 minutes away from eachother and sometimes only saw eachother once a week. Everytime I put myself out there for him, showed him my vulnerability, he hurt me.
Yet why does the pain feel more addictive to me than the unconditional love I feel from my friends? It must just be my own sick personality.
