I was getting worried; my deadline was approaching and I had nothing to write about the coming issue; I was happy and stable, and nothing upset me enough to get my pen rolling. I met him and I was no longer angry at men. I had nothing more to ask Santa; he finally found my perfect gift. I was flying somewhere between cloud nine and heaven. My moods depended on him. I did not want to waste a waking moment without being with him. Waking up in the morning felt great, going to bed at night felt warm, and life altogether felt different. I cherished his SMSes, added him to all my msn aliases, saved all our chats and emails, treasured every word he said to me, and passionately surrendered to him. There was always the ominous thought of a crash lurking at the back of my mind and ruining my best moments with him. I resisted my gut feeling and ignored my collective experience with “his type of men”. I decided that this was a different man.
I would like to proudly announce that "The Different Man" is a myth! He is a bigger myth than Santa Claus. There might be a Santa but there is no different man; they are all the same. Their names change, their faces change, their voices change, their bodies change, their geographic locations change, and their hunting styles change. But their hollow words, their void promises, and their bitter aftertaste are the same. I am at a point in my life now where I can safely assume that all men are the same; each man is an upgraded version of one of ten ancient models; Mr. Big, Mr. Smartass, Mr. Caveman, Mr. Jerk, the looser, the soother, the double-faced cheater, the dreamer, the miser, and, of course, the mismatched pair of sneakers. Do not let their categories confuse you; they are ALL the same; they are ALL evil.
No matter how advanced or enhanced their software seems, they still share the same basic functions and maneuvers. My relationship with men has become synonymous with knowing how a movie ends 15 minutes after it starts. My relationships have become painfully boring; just as boring as movie scripts nowadays. I told him that I have seen the movie “Pay It Forward” at least five times; I know exactly how it ends. Yet every time I watch it, the silly girl in me still hopes for a different ending. It is prewritten but still I hope that some divine intervention will change the ending. I wanted him to prove me wrong. I wanted him to give me the different ending. But who was I fooling? I am a very consistent person; “no man is to stay with you for a month” said the witch, “before the month is over, it has to be over too” she added as she pointed a nasty finger at me. What a curse! I wanted him to break the spell. I tried to help him free me from the clutches of my curse. I wanted him to last till Christmas; I did not want another Christmas alone. But Alas! It is over!
I have reached a point where I got so familiar with the colors of sadness and madness. People say that each feeling is associated with a color. It is quite known that red is the color of anger, blue of sadness, and yellow of bitterness. For some reason, these three feelings for me are all wrapped in a big brownish ball. Yes, the color of human waste - shit! This is the color that seals all my relationships; this is the word that echoes in the empty walls of what is left of my mind. I am sick of the color, the smell, the taste, and the feeling of deep shit! My heart is sinking, my soul is sulking, and a vicious crab is playing xo on my guts with its cutting edges. I am just sad; unfulfilled fantasies have a way of turning into nightmares just as my prince charming turned into a frog. I know the drill by heart; sinking, sulking, aching, hitting rock bottom, then bottling it up, pushing it down, locking it in my black box with my other black memories, and then climbing my way up the tunnel.
Do I blame him? No. Am I angry at him? No. Do I want to smother him with the shit that is allover me now? No. I can't blame him. He said he would not hurt me, he said he was different, he said that I could trust him, he said that he felt at home when he was with me, he said so many things - but don't they all! Haven’t I heard it all before? Why would that one be any different? Why would the ending change this time? Why did I believe this nonsense? I am at fault all the way; I was too spontaneous, very expressive, quite sincere, and literally blind. I did not make him earn my trust, I just handed it to him. I did not make him work for my company, I was at his command. I changed the way I did things hoping that the end of the story would change; I put my games, tricks, and spells aside when I should have kept them at an arms length.
This was not my only mistake. My biggest mistake was going after a man who was in a relationship – a crashing relationship. I sat there like an ugly black crow waiting to prey on the remains of her heart. I thought I was a different girl. I thought he saw me as a different girl. What a deluded creature I am. I turned from the inspiration to the burden; from the muse to the block; from the comfort to the pressure; from the real thing to the distraction; from the relationship to the rebound. Yesterday night he was missing me, liking me, leaning on me, and allover me; this morning he wanted a break! I hated him then I hated myself; I was not sure whether to cry for his pain or mine; I decided to let go. I broke my fingers, twisted my wrists, and hurt my arms trying to hold on to people who “had to” or “needed to” go away. I do not have the supernatural power of breathing life in dead relationships or people. I have been there and done that before – it is just another crash and it will pass. I deleted him from all my contact lists along with all our emails, our saved chats, and our messages.
I am trying to turn my back to the horrible feeling of being used; of being taken advantage of; of being taken for a quick ride; of being someone’s pain killer. I want to close my eyes and not think of the intensity of the past few weeks. I want to wake up in the morning and remember nothing of him – or what could have been us. He was just another man among many others; another chapter in my book; another month in my life; another Christmas without a gift. I know now what the picture on his wall was telling me; the first time I looked at it, I was happy and warm with passion. I saw angels saving lost souls from a burning hell. I guess that was what I was expecting of him. The last time I saw it, I felt the end coming. I saw butterflies attracted to the glazing fire, only to fall and burn. There is no different man just as much as there will not be a different ending.
Yours truly,
Jenny
I would like to proudly announce that "The Different Man" is a myth! He is a bigger myth than Santa Claus. There might be a Santa but there is no different man; they are all the same. Their names change, their faces change, their voices change, their bodies change, their geographic locations change, and their hunting styles change. But their hollow words, their void promises, and their bitter aftertaste are the same. I am at a point in my life now where I can safely assume that all men are the same; each man is an upgraded version of one of ten ancient models; Mr. Big, Mr. Smartass, Mr. Caveman, Mr. Jerk, the looser, the soother, the double-faced cheater, the dreamer, the miser, and, of course, the mismatched pair of sneakers. Do not let their categories confuse you; they are ALL the same; they are ALL evil.
No matter how advanced or enhanced their software seems, they still share the same basic functions and maneuvers. My relationship with men has become synonymous with knowing how a movie ends 15 minutes after it starts. My relationships have become painfully boring; just as boring as movie scripts nowadays. I told him that I have seen the movie “Pay It Forward” at least five times; I know exactly how it ends. Yet every time I watch it, the silly girl in me still hopes for a different ending. It is prewritten but still I hope that some divine intervention will change the ending. I wanted him to prove me wrong. I wanted him to give me the different ending. But who was I fooling? I am a very consistent person; “no man is to stay with you for a month” said the witch, “before the month is over, it has to be over too” she added as she pointed a nasty finger at me. What a curse! I wanted him to break the spell. I tried to help him free me from the clutches of my curse. I wanted him to last till Christmas; I did not want another Christmas alone. But Alas! It is over!
I have reached a point where I got so familiar with the colors of sadness and madness. People say that each feeling is associated with a color. It is quite known that red is the color of anger, blue of sadness, and yellow of bitterness. For some reason, these three feelings for me are all wrapped in a big brownish ball. Yes, the color of human waste - shit! This is the color that seals all my relationships; this is the word that echoes in the empty walls of what is left of my mind. I am sick of the color, the smell, the taste, and the feeling of deep shit! My heart is sinking, my soul is sulking, and a vicious crab is playing xo on my guts with its cutting edges. I am just sad; unfulfilled fantasies have a way of turning into nightmares just as my prince charming turned into a frog. I know the drill by heart; sinking, sulking, aching, hitting rock bottom, then bottling it up, pushing it down, locking it in my black box with my other black memories, and then climbing my way up the tunnel.
Do I blame him? No. Am I angry at him? No. Do I want to smother him with the shit that is allover me now? No. I can't blame him. He said he would not hurt me, he said he was different, he said that I could trust him, he said that he felt at home when he was with me, he said so many things - but don't they all! Haven’t I heard it all before? Why would that one be any different? Why would the ending change this time? Why did I believe this nonsense? I am at fault all the way; I was too spontaneous, very expressive, quite sincere, and literally blind. I did not make him earn my trust, I just handed it to him. I did not make him work for my company, I was at his command. I changed the way I did things hoping that the end of the story would change; I put my games, tricks, and spells aside when I should have kept them at an arms length.
This was not my only mistake. My biggest mistake was going after a man who was in a relationship – a crashing relationship. I sat there like an ugly black crow waiting to prey on the remains of her heart. I thought I was a different girl. I thought he saw me as a different girl. What a deluded creature I am. I turned from the inspiration to the burden; from the muse to the block; from the comfort to the pressure; from the real thing to the distraction; from the relationship to the rebound. Yesterday night he was missing me, liking me, leaning on me, and allover me; this morning he wanted a break! I hated him then I hated myself; I was not sure whether to cry for his pain or mine; I decided to let go. I broke my fingers, twisted my wrists, and hurt my arms trying to hold on to people who “had to” or “needed to” go away. I do not have the supernatural power of breathing life in dead relationships or people. I have been there and done that before – it is just another crash and it will pass. I deleted him from all my contact lists along with all our emails, our saved chats, and our messages.
I am trying to turn my back to the horrible feeling of being used; of being taken advantage of; of being taken for a quick ride; of being someone’s pain killer. I want to close my eyes and not think of the intensity of the past few weeks. I want to wake up in the morning and remember nothing of him – or what could have been us. He was just another man among many others; another chapter in my book; another month in my life; another Christmas without a gift. I know now what the picture on his wall was telling me; the first time I looked at it, I was happy and warm with passion. I saw angels saving lost souls from a burning hell. I guess that was what I was expecting of him. The last time I saw it, I felt the end coming. I saw butterflies attracted to the glazing fire, only to fall and burn. There is no different man just as much as there will not be a different ending.
Yours truly,
Jenny
6 comments:
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your exceptional writing style.
This is the first time I read your blog, I was amazed by the fact that you devoted an entire blog to writing about men. Very few people can be that devoted to one single topic. Trust me when I say this, all you had to say about men, all their bad qualities, their deceptions, lies, broken promises, fragile dreams, is true for women as well. You will lash out at me now and jump for my throat, its ok, because I'd probably do the same if we switched places. You are saying this as a woman who stands in that particular place looking from that particular angle, believe me, there are tons of men who stand at that same place, and are looking through that same angle. You probably haven't run into any, or maybe you have, but you didn't notice them.
There is no such thing as "all women" or "all men", even the most fundamental physical characteristics can't be generalized. I've had my share of failed relationships, which I feel that you have described in your own words better than I ever could, and I'm a guy.
For every failed relationship there is a successfull one. Maybe one day you will move to the other side of the fence, or maybe not. But in the end, the two sides will always exist.
cheers.
"Flames to dust, lovers to friends, everything good comes to an end" - I am using your own words to reply and you do not know how true they are.
Our fire consumes us, our love wears us out, and good things end:)
wow, I read several of your posts.
I have to echo exactly word for word what anon said above.
hehe, I'm also going to be very careful how I treat others now! ;)
(not that I've ever hurt anyone before)
No Marwa, it takes 2 to tango, I think a smart lady like you, should not fall to the trap of generalizing. I agree we do have considerable problems in the area of male-female relationship. But, is it related to one side only?? Is at all about men? Is it all about women? I think it is not. I find it a bilateral defect.
Regarding the experience of your jenny, this recalls to me the story of the elephant and the blinds, when a group of blinds were asked to recognize an elephant through tactile test. The one who grasped the tail said "the elephant is a tapered cylindrical mass". The one who caught the ear has a different opinion "no, it is a flat fleshy mass"….etc. to me, I think jenny happened to experience the wrong part of elephant that matched her nature / needs.
Talking about different man. Every single man and every single woman is different dear. May be jenny needs to change the river she is going to for fishing. We all do the same mistake, we open the door in the wrong place, environment, time and we blame ourselves that we are getting wrong results.
Interesting...
The only common denominator in all your failed relationships is you.
The day you realize that your expectations of the losers that you choose is what's causing your misery, you'll be happier.
Anon hit the nail on the head, tons of men have been there.
This "all men are poopy" rhetoric is pointless, it should be: all the men that YOU CHOOSE are poopy.
Besides, if you had gotten what you wanted we wouldn't have been so entertained at the histrionic blog of a grown ass woman, whose only gem of wisdom after 32 years of life is "all men are poopy".
:P
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