Gone.  If you know where to look, you'll find me.

12 Minutes to Freedom

Driving in my car this afternoon on my way to work, I got to thinking about relationships.  It occurred to me that people, in retrospect, find that the relationships that failed or they tried to force to work, were majorly fucked up from the beginning.  Relatively few broken relationships have positive memories surrounding their demise.  I grant that on occassion there are good endings to good relationships that do not work out for valid reasons.  It is my theory that those are far and few between.

To me, it appears that people are destined to suffer a certain amount of failed relationships before they are granted access to the world of "happily ever after."  That includes marriages - because that's just a contractual relationship.  Every woman must endure the assholes, the cheapskates, the egotistical, maniacal weirdos and the guy-that-appeared-normal-but-went-crazy-right-quick.  There are more genres of men, but it is a waste of time to try to name them all. (I'm sure they feel the same way about women.)

I cannot help but wonder if we're destined to be miserable for undisclosed lengths of time in order to prepare for happiness.  We endure the ambiguous relationships where neither party to the sex and kisses divulges information or engages in conversation outside of locked doors (or, is that uniquely one of my many experiences with men?)  Women constantly barrage each other with words of wisdom and empowerment, driving out friends and acquaintances to drop that mutha like a used spoon at a fast food establishment, but each of us has experienced the scenario of an unhappy relationship.

I suppose it's analagous to the addage, "You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince."

My Little Catch Twenty-Two

When people establish relationships, typically both party to the lovin' have made some sort of compromise and understand each other.  Now, I cannot claim to understand one person in particular.  If this is a relationship, I'm a fool (already am, it's redundant).  But, often this is a subject of personal scrutiny, I think too much.  Therefore, I will over analyze everything in this ridiculous entry.

Doesn't this put me on the right track for Foreign Language Analyst, then?

I digress and apologize.  Reasonable people know what they want and establish limits as to what shit they will or will not take.  Sacrifice a little sanity for the sake of true love, you know?  I sacrifice nothing because I'm a little bit selfish (not a secret - I live alone for a reason).  However, I too often make excuses for the poor, translucent behavior of others, just because I would rather trick myself into think there is no problem and I am not making a terrible fool of myself.  Unfortunately, the case is almost always the latter.  I might as well walk under a little dunce cap for relationship martyrs. 

For example, if a person is blatantly rude and condescending, I will excuse the behavior due to mild intoxication.  Just because this happens every day, with or without alcohol, bears no consequence on my automatic excuse generating.  Now, I know that people see through these little self-delusional lies I tell others.  I only reiterate them to convince myself I had not actually made up some ridiculous tale. 

To preserve my own pride, let me explain the circumstances this event surrounds and with whom it usually happens.  First, I have to be sincerely interested in this person.  Second, at some point, they had to show a real sign of affection.  Third, the person must be a bit enigmatic about himself.  He is slightly unusual, but remains to be rather intriguing.  Usually a loner.  I give in to their downpours of affection and subsequent withdrawals entice me thoroughly.  I suppose it's similiar to bass fishing, but I have never gone fishing.  I just understand the concept of getting hooked and reeling.

Whilst I am usually confident and savvy about personal situations, there is always someone to throw a stick under my wheels causing me to trip up on their little surprises.  What is seemingly such a perfect little endeavor, with two eager hearts, often develops into a sardonic, twisted mess of a story that results in lengthy journal entries examining where I have gone wrong.

Am I right, or am I right?

The Strange Ways My Heart Rules My Life

Even if I plan to be 500 miles from home in six months, my heart never lets me escape its trappings.  I patiently wait on the sidelines, waiting for right moments and open spots, knowing full well I care about someone who seems preoccupied with everything except me.  That is, until the lights go out.  I think. 

Then again, maybe he thinks about me at moments, too, wondering why I seem so distant and despondant except on Friday or Saturday evenings.  In his head he pictures me smiling for hours looking upon him and when my face blurs, his memories fade into cold Sunday or Saturday mornings.  But then, that's only really my imagination. 

It's not something I particularly want to talk about or anything I'm comfortable talking about.  I want to know what he thinks, but at the same time, I'm in no rush. 

We shall see.  I'll let time do the for me - I work enough already.

Currently Listening Push Barman to Open Old Wounds By Belle & Sebastian Take Your Carriage Clock and Shove It see related