Before we all get happy and clear, let's review the term 'dumped'. Wow, what a racket. This is such a horseshit way to describe the end of a relationship. It implies that the one person took the other person and, quite like that wonderful image in 'Slumdog Millionaire,' hoisted this other person into a pond of straight up fecal matter (actually in the movie, the boy fell into it, he wasn't hoisted, but the image was nasty either way). Unfortunately, society doesn't account for the fact that it's not exactly easy to 'break-up' with a person, and that sometimes ending a relationship can be just as hard for the person that's ending things as it is for the person who's being ended upon, if not harder.
For the record, I would never sling someone that I cared about into a pile of excrement, or trash, or anything that wasn't pleasant to land in. The truth is, I care deeply about the people that I date. That's because I'm not an ignorant asshole and I try to consider others; and I actually put a bit of thought into choosing my flavor of the quarter or season or year or whatever you want (Depends on how good they are in bed. I'm kidding! Kind of).
But who cares right? That's just a silly way to explain a transpiring of events: being dumped. The bigger picture is, we tend to be trapped in these stupid boxes about how we perceive what's sane 'etiquette' when we take the plunge and let another person into our intimate little lives. The other night while I was having a bar chat as I often do (being a bartender not an alcoholic), a friend said that it wasn't 'healthy' that I thought nearly every day about a guy from my past. Not healthy? What the fuck is healthy?
Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I can say I'm happy, and kinda mean it, I think I might be kinda healthy. It's natural to think about people who have impacted our lives. Also, I imagine that typically we don't fall in love, like the real kind of in love that we can't shake, but a couple times in a lifetime. And let's not forget that I'm among one of the few hopeful (not hopeless) romantics who still abound in this depressing world. Who knows, maybe after all of the fantastical masturbation fodder this person has offered me, he'll like show up at my door out of nowhere and offer to service me in real life. Of course I mean that I think about him in a rational, concerned sense, and not (always) necessarily a sexual sense. But now the tangents are just becoming tentacles on an octopus.
Stalker behavior, as people see it, typically in women, is when women want to stay connected to a man. So, of course, they beg and plead and message upon message and show up at doors and cry and cry some more. Why is it usually the women and not the men? I mean don't get me wrong, I'm a woman, and I'm telling you I get it: there are some crazy bitches out there. These are the types of women who need filing cabinets for their emotions. I get all of that. And men: You have to deal with them, and I am quite sorry for that. Better you than me.
But let me step up to the plate for my gender. Nobody had an individual say in how the great power of all the lands decided to divvy up the emotions and logics. Women got the short end of the stick with emotions (because they are judged for expressing them in volatile ways) and men got fucked when it comes to needing to, well, get fucked. It's nobody's fault. Let's just all get along. Let women stalk a bit and sometimes just chalk it up to: she cares about me, and she's a complicated individual. By the way, why must men always get all machismo when another dude starts up fighting shit in public, typically around drinking? I'm here to say: that's AS big of a turn OFF as stalking.
What men might not realize is that it sucks for women to deal with men and their inability to express emotions. Like if you feel a way about something, why not just say it in a diplomatic way? Why fucking ignore it (the problem), or ignore her (the woman who cares what you have to say)? Emotion good. Emotion part of man and of woman. Emotion don't mean any harm. I mean come on.
Men might not have been conditioned to express emotions, lest they look like faggoty fools, but jump into the new millennium, guys. Check out what's gaining stead with the ladies: that's right fellas, a realized man. A man who isn't afraid to cry (at the very least during a break-up, fuck it's hard, how bruised must you be to avoid tears during that??), or watch an intensely love-infested movie, or articulate calmly and admit being wrong, or listen even if you don't get it, or hell, I don't know. All of it's good. Better than ignoring issues and women who challenge you altogether. Shite, again the tentacles of tangents.
I'm just saying I find it interesting that people judge my stay-in-contact impetus (through my thoughts or through my actions) as unhealthy, 'stalker' behavior. Though frankly, I've spent a lot of time perfecting my ability to not give a fuck what other people think of me. I'm an exception to many rules. My parents have been divorced for some 27 odd years, and yet they are best friends.
So if I want to call a guy out of nowhere, regardless of whether or not I broke up with him or he broke up with me, it's potaytoe potahtoe, who cares? We're just two people in this wacky universe, and at the end of the day, we're all starving for connection. We all die to have someone ask us how we are. If I think about someone and I want to know how they are, I don't consider these shitty dating laws, I call them (or text or email or telegram them) and ask them. What's stalkerish about that? Isn't that like, I dunno, compassionate? I ain't scared of no pesky emotions.
Of course there's a flip side to that (isn't there fucking always?), which is: unfortunately many people don't take break-ups too well. Rightly so. They suck. And to be on the receiving end of them, can tend to, let's say, suck. So good; or not so good as it would go. Anyway the past several days, I've been thinking about a guy that I was with not long ago. We dated for a few months. He was hot, but not the kind of hot that you think of in terms of a life partner. It happens.
Anyway, this guy, we'll call him Justin, was more into me than I was into him. That happens too. And make sure you understand: I do have a seed of humility; I'm not one of those heartless bitches who takes pride in saying 'he was all up in my shit'; it happens. In fact, my heart was pummeled into tiny little fragments, like baby platelets of glass that would feel absolutely smashing to digest, not too long ago by a different guy named, um, Rex, so check mate on my ass regarding that one.
So I got to the point where I felt it was unfair for Justin that I hem and haw about where we were. After what I had learned from having my own heart broken, I knew it was a better idea to stop seeing each other; to make it easier on me because I needed space, but also on him because I was simply being a flake, and who deserves that?
But the problem is, feelings don't go away. So I was thinking about this Justin; three months or so have passed give or take, and I decided to call him. So I texted him and asked if I could get together with him. No response. So I called him and left him a message because a real man (or woman) will actually CALL and not simply email or text, telling him I was thinking of him and blah and blah. I said that I understood where he was, but if he should change his mind about talking to me...blah and blah. No response.
Hmm. I feel his pain, I do. I'm sorry, I want to support that break-ups are hard. But being closed off to another person, with good intentions, opening up to you, I feel, can only impact you in a negative way in the future. But c'est la vie. Some people like Justin have more of a fatalistic view on things. Some people like him hate women who break up with them, and never want to talk to them again. Fair enough. Potaytoe potahtoe.
For my part, however, I can't imagine ever not responding to someone that I once upon a time cared about. And so this all got me to thinking. So I reached out to another one of my exes to ask how he was doing; you know, the one who smashed my heart to baby platelets of inedible glass. Don't worry I'm over it. He hasn't responded either. HA!
Stalker behavior? Do I give a fuck? I have a good heart, and I think that's all that matters. I'm out to hurt nobody; and in the end, the only person who really has the ability to hurt us is the I in us that makes us us. I say screw rules and ill-placed little dating terms. Happy spring romance! May you not deal with many break-ups and feel a new need to stalk.
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