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.
Showing posts with label boyfriend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boyfriend. Show all posts
Friday, 12 September 2014
Tuesday, 29 April 2014
The biggest heartbreak
What's worse than breaking up? What's worse than being called a monster? What's worse than your boyfriend telling you he needs space "to heal" because you've hurt him so very much?
I'll tell you, its when you call to hear his voice because you've been going through the most stressful time ever and he says "I just can't be there for you right now, I need to focus on myself."
Tell me if this sounds like I'm a monster...
My boyfriend has been sick for a month straight. No don't worry he doesn't have cancer. He got flu, then he got an eye infection, then he got cocksackie virus (look it up I didn't know it even existed) then he got gastro flu. I'm moving from the house I've lived in for four years with a very fussy cat and a painfully sentimental personality that makes me shiver in anxiety at the mention of any form of change.
I left for the weekend to see my family who I haven't seen in months. He dropped me off at the airport.
I had a lovely weekend, family drama aside and was really depressed and sad about leaving knowing the time of moving was looming, getting closer and closer.
I was already at the airport when I get a message from him telling me that he can't pick me up because his legs are extremely painful and he's nauseous and feverish but he's going to send his brother. I was worried but I thought, ok this is the cocksackie virus again. Shame my poor darling I hope he's ok. I was grateful he asked his brother but was kind of sad that I wouldn't see him when I got off the plane.
I got to Johannesburg and he didn't even send me a message to see if I got home safe. The next day he managed to inform me that he couldnt come over because he was too sick, I appreciated that because cancelling last minute is a big thing for me. But he couldn't even say I miss you? I love you?
Tuesday he still didn't ask me, yes sure the obligatory 'how r u doin?' on whatsapp. Oh yes did I mention I hadn't spoken to him in almost a week- apparently the only way we could communicate was on whatsapp. Let me also explain that when he;s sick I'm not allowed to go over to his place because he prefers being alone.
So by Wednesday when we were still speaking on Whatsapp I lost it. I knew I was being mean but I just couldn't take it anymore. I told him rather not come to help us move because my dad would be angry if he couldn't lift stuff on the day or cancelled on the day. Yes I know it wasn't the right time but was I wrong?
He totally went apeshit! Sending me all Caps messages over whatsapp- I thought I was in for a Carrie-like rage.
Ok so lets skip to the conclusion. He doesnt feel safe with me, he thinks I make him feel pathetic and weak, I need to not be so cold and just understand that he's the sickest and unluckiest guy in the world (oh but God forbid I call him sickly!) I apparently have tons of issues that he can't help me with anymore and he needs to be alone so that he's not at risk anymore.
I tell you what i think by now he's spontaneously grown about three vaginas in secret places around his body.
Oh wait the last statement actually just turned his entire head into a giant vagina- "I just can't be there for you right now, I need to focus on myself."
Goodbye to weak men, girls. I'm not being sexist here but seriously be as strong as you can be, don't indulge in illness because your partner can't handle things. Don't date a guy who's looking for a mother. A girlfriend and a mother are too different things. He thinks I placed expectations on him? I'm 26-fucking-years old and I was having a teenage romance where we saw eachother twice a week and messaged a few times a week over whatsapp. I never dragged him to any of my media events unless he wanted to come (yes free stays at the Palazzo hotel as part of the media team are just too good to pass up), I never forced him to be with my friends or family, I never asked for flowers, holidays, anything. That's it I'm done. Look at the expectations he's put on me! To sit quietly and be waiting silently in the shadows until he got better, to understand things that were in conflict with my own upbringing, to have a relationship on only his terms.
I tell you, I am done.
I'll tell you, its when you call to hear his voice because you've been going through the most stressful time ever and he says "I just can't be there for you right now, I need to focus on myself."
Tell me if this sounds like I'm a monster...
My boyfriend has been sick for a month straight. No don't worry he doesn't have cancer. He got flu, then he got an eye infection, then he got cocksackie virus (look it up I didn't know it even existed) then he got gastro flu. I'm moving from the house I've lived in for four years with a very fussy cat and a painfully sentimental personality that makes me shiver in anxiety at the mention of any form of change.
I left for the weekend to see my family who I haven't seen in months. He dropped me off at the airport.
I had a lovely weekend, family drama aside and was really depressed and sad about leaving knowing the time of moving was looming, getting closer and closer.
I was already at the airport when I get a message from him telling me that he can't pick me up because his legs are extremely painful and he's nauseous and feverish but he's going to send his brother. I was worried but I thought, ok this is the cocksackie virus again. Shame my poor darling I hope he's ok. I was grateful he asked his brother but was kind of sad that I wouldn't see him when I got off the plane.
I got to Johannesburg and he didn't even send me a message to see if I got home safe. The next day he managed to inform me that he couldnt come over because he was too sick, I appreciated that because cancelling last minute is a big thing for me. But he couldn't even say I miss you? I love you?
Tuesday he still didn't ask me, yes sure the obligatory 'how r u doin?' on whatsapp. Oh yes did I mention I hadn't spoken to him in almost a week- apparently the only way we could communicate was on whatsapp. Let me also explain that when he;s sick I'm not allowed to go over to his place because he prefers being alone.
So by Wednesday when we were still speaking on Whatsapp I lost it. I knew I was being mean but I just couldn't take it anymore. I told him rather not come to help us move because my dad would be angry if he couldn't lift stuff on the day or cancelled on the day. Yes I know it wasn't the right time but was I wrong?
He totally went apeshit! Sending me all Caps messages over whatsapp- I thought I was in for a Carrie-like rage.
Ok so lets skip to the conclusion. He doesnt feel safe with me, he thinks I make him feel pathetic and weak, I need to not be so cold and just understand that he's the sickest and unluckiest guy in the world (oh but God forbid I call him sickly!) I apparently have tons of issues that he can't help me with anymore and he needs to be alone so that he's not at risk anymore.
I tell you what i think by now he's spontaneously grown about three vaginas in secret places around his body.
Oh wait the last statement actually just turned his entire head into a giant vagina- "I just can't be there for you right now, I need to focus on myself."
Goodbye to weak men, girls. I'm not being sexist here but seriously be as strong as you can be, don't indulge in illness because your partner can't handle things. Don't date a guy who's looking for a mother. A girlfriend and a mother are too different things. He thinks I placed expectations on him? I'm 26-fucking-years old and I was having a teenage romance where we saw eachother twice a week and messaged a few times a week over whatsapp. I never dragged him to any of my media events unless he wanted to come (yes free stays at the Palazzo hotel as part of the media team are just too good to pass up), I never forced him to be with my friends or family, I never asked for flowers, holidays, anything. That's it I'm done. Look at the expectations he's put on me! To sit quietly and be waiting silently in the shadows until he got better, to understand things that were in conflict with my own upbringing, to have a relationship on only his terms.
I tell you, I am done.
Friday, 25 April 2014
Why we don't write
I read an Adrian Mole novel once, I think it was meant to be the last one in the series, which proclaimed that "happy people don't write".
Just as most of the milestones in my life have had to do with my one significant love story so did this blog. Yes I am in fact pathetic, I attest to it myself.
So I started the blog to prove something to myself especially since I've always considered myself a writer but at the time, in 2012 I wasn't writing. You can't call yourself a writer if you don't write, right?
So the love of my life and I broke up with me and I needed an outlet and did it help...No! because like the idiot I am I then became friends with said ex-boyfriend and then felt like I couldn't post how sad I was feeling or how much I wanted to staple his balls to the cupboard door and kick the shit out of him. Ofcourse not!
In fact the point of this blog became so obscured and so ridiculous that he even started sharing my blog posts on Facebook to all his friends saying how proud of me he was. But no we were not together at this time in fact that show Friendzone became my televised bible.
And then last year in July I got a great job! Maybe not much to some but I was a writer again because I was writing and people were reading. I became the journalist of a community newspaper which is part of a huge South African conglomerate based on advertising. But a journalist none the less. So that, somehow, coincided with him and I trying again. And that literally just happened! One minute we were lying next to eachother on the couch the next minute we were a couple.
And then I literally just stopped writing on this blog. I don't know what it was. Was it the fact that I was expelling my creative angst somewhere else writing about potholes and horse tack being stolen and interviewing owners of music schools and dog-owners whose pets won best in show? Or was it that he and I were together so suddenly I was theoretically "happy" and therefore didn't need a writing outlet anymore? I didn't need anyone else to share my opinions because he shared my opinions, I didn't give a damn what people thought was funny because I entertained him and that's all that mattered.
I don't know. I mean, someone in my newsroom disclosed the shocking fact that she writes four blogs simultaneously! I find this inconceivable because one meeting with a local councilor gets me to bed by 20:30.
Yet somehow I feel like its not the job, its because him and I are on the rocks and there doesn't seem to be a way out. One of my best friend's who is a filmmaker has a theory that women can't create when they're attached while men can only create when they're attached hence muses. I'm inclined to agree.
Just as most of the milestones in my life have had to do with my one significant love story so did this blog. Yes I am in fact pathetic, I attest to it myself.
So I started the blog to prove something to myself especially since I've always considered myself a writer but at the time, in 2012 I wasn't writing. You can't call yourself a writer if you don't write, right?
So the love of my life and I broke up with me and I needed an outlet and did it help...No! because like the idiot I am I then became friends with said ex-boyfriend and then felt like I couldn't post how sad I was feeling or how much I wanted to staple his balls to the cupboard door and kick the shit out of him. Ofcourse not!
In fact the point of this blog became so obscured and so ridiculous that he even started sharing my blog posts on Facebook to all his friends saying how proud of me he was. But no we were not together at this time in fact that show Friendzone became my televised bible.
And then last year in July I got a great job! Maybe not much to some but I was a writer again because I was writing and people were reading. I became the journalist of a community newspaper which is part of a huge South African conglomerate based on advertising. But a journalist none the less. So that, somehow, coincided with him and I trying again. And that literally just happened! One minute we were lying next to eachother on the couch the next minute we were a couple.
And then I literally just stopped writing on this blog. I don't know what it was. Was it the fact that I was expelling my creative angst somewhere else writing about potholes and horse tack being stolen and interviewing owners of music schools and dog-owners whose pets won best in show? Or was it that he and I were together so suddenly I was theoretically "happy" and therefore didn't need a writing outlet anymore? I didn't need anyone else to share my opinions because he shared my opinions, I didn't give a damn what people thought was funny because I entertained him and that's all that mattered.
I don't know. I mean, someone in my newsroom disclosed the shocking fact that she writes four blogs simultaneously! I find this inconceivable because one meeting with a local councilor gets me to bed by 20:30.
Yet somehow I feel like its not the job, its because him and I are on the rocks and there doesn't seem to be a way out. One of my best friend's who is a filmmaker has a theory that women can't create when they're attached while men can only create when they're attached hence muses. I'm inclined to agree.
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