Sometimes I think….I must sound so self righteous to others. So full of conceit, when I explain what I refer to as, “my curse”. The Fixer. The stepping stone. The scapegoat. However many other names, I’ve referred to myself as. It cannot be coincidence, that the two most important relationships of my life, were with men that bare so much in common. They are not the only ones to hold on and say these kinds of things, but they’ve certainly held on the longest.
It’s maddening….when you give someone everything you have and they simply try to take more….rather than trying to give you a part of themselves. I was very much in love on both occasions. What I feel will never be fully understood, is this:
Venomous acts of cruelty, spawned from insecurity, selfishness and jealousy…..WILL eventually eat away at a person. Never sated…it will eat right through to the decaying core. How can a person possibly love anyone else, when they don’t even love themselves anymore. A fine line between love and hate, right? Sort of…yes. It’s not, necessarily, that I ever actually fell out of love. So much as it was, becoming disenchanted with “love”. At the deepest level, every bit of love remained. The day to day brought about the superficial, the resentment, the anger, the fear and so on. Pride, (bless it’s sinful little heart), led to the disdain of being shamed. Know thyself. Know thy value. Bless my overly analytical mind, as well.
By the end of each of these relationships, I felt small. I felt unloved, undesirable and unworthy of anything more. I was saved by youth and distance the first time around. I was saved by experience, the second. I swore I’d never do it again after the first. Pesky wolves in sheep’s clothing. Silly lovesick little girl with the rose colored glasses. She’ll learn eventually. One day she’ll learn to see the fangs behind the smile. Minimally, approach with caution. Stay far enough away, long enough, to gain a headstart, when the smile slips.
I’m not even angry anymore. I’m just sad and perplexed. I should have been able to avoid it the second time around. When I finally realized the similarities….I tried so hard to explain how it would go down. I tried everything to prevent history from repeating itself. I told that wolf the entire fable….every last detail….about the one before him. I told him what I learned about myself. I told him what I learned about wolves. I told him I was unhappy. I even told him I was never going off path for flowers, ever again. It didn’t register. It didn’t click. It was viewed as some kind of scheme.
Little Red Riding Hood was never the liar. She never cried, “Wolf!” She was simply too naïve to escape her impending death in one version and too helpless to save herself in another.
The point is this….I want my knight in armor. Not shining. Dull, old, beat up armor. Shining armor is far too suspicious. There’s no going back to someone that’s been proven a wolf. I need that modern day prince. The one that knows and appreciates what he has, BEFORE it’s gone.
….and for him… I will make him feel like a king everyday. I sure as hell try anyway…..
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