Get Played (& stay away from registered mail)
.1. I think it’s good for your soul to get really hurt at least once. It allows you to appreciate everything that much more (I promise!).
.2. Interesting discussion with the girls; the topic being ’When it's over, what do you do with his ‘stuff’?’
The outcome differed depending on the way things ended. For the most part, everyone seemed to default to their craziest moments and what they did to ‘stuff’ when they were treated not-too-nicely.
Hilarious (& somewhat disturbing) stories ranging from:
- I shredded it and sent it via registered mail.
- I threw it in a garbage bag and sent that via registered mail.
- I tore / painted / placed holes / took a knife to it and later told him what I did.
- I burned it and sent him the ashes (via registered mail).
- I threw it in the garbage, took a photo of it, and sent that to him (via registered mail).
Barring how popular registered mail seems to be, I would think the sane thing to do is return something in one piece.
Boy or girl, feel free to share your psycho actions or the psycho actions of others who may have sent you something (via registered mail).
.3. Musical recommendation: Esthero’s Fastlane.
.2. Interesting discussion with the girls; the topic being ’When it's over, what do you do with his ‘stuff’?’
The outcome differed depending on the way things ended. For the most part, everyone seemed to default to their craziest moments and what they did to ‘stuff’ when they were treated not-too-nicely.
Hilarious (& somewhat disturbing) stories ranging from:
- I shredded it and sent it via registered mail.
- I threw it in a garbage bag and sent that via registered mail.
- I tore / painted / placed holes / took a knife to it and later told him what I did.
- I burned it and sent him the ashes (via registered mail).
- I threw it in the garbage, took a photo of it, and sent that to him (via registered mail).
Barring how popular registered mail seems to be, I would think the sane thing to do is return something in one piece.
Boy or girl, feel free to share your psycho actions or the psycho actions of others who may have sent you something (via registered mail).
.3. Musical recommendation: Esthero’s Fastlane.
Labels: Relationships
posted by just a girl at 10:20 PM
5 Comments:
You're going to think of me as a complete suck-up, since all I ever seem to do is agree with you, but there it is.
To misquote C.S. Lewis, the pain now is part of the joy later. Being played leaves you knowing why there are so many damned stereotypical phrases about the agony of love.
The registered mail axiom is very weird, though...! Hehehe.
Espy x
Espy, I don't think of you as a complete suck up for agreeing with me >> just a really smart woman ;)
Don't know about the agony of love >> not really sure I've even been there, in love, to be quite honest with you. I mean >> each situation seems to be some form of 'agony' to me (with one that really really really really really shredded me...but that was a while back, so whatever), but that's probably because I'm intense and so feel everything to a relatively heightened degree. Any emotion I feel is heightened ten-fold, which is a really great thing (even when hurting...).
I don't think I can use the term 'love' because I believe that comes after years and years of being with someone. I believe in infatuation and some kind of chemistry and friendship (this is why most people get married), but for me, 'love' doesn't really mean much of anything. It's become so over used that it's lost it's meaning, so I prefer: honesty, respect, comedy, friendship, attraction, etc.
Don't really know if that makes any sort of sense, but...
Love 'ya Esp!
maha
Shawn said...
Wow. I have to say I’m consistently surprised by the lengths some women go to display their displeasure at the way a man has treated them -- commenting on some of the ‘craziest moments’ highlights your friends list. Yikes!
Cause, damn, I’ve been hurt. Played. Lied to. Betrayed. Wounded. Cheated on. Abused. And, although I like to consider myself more of an alpha than a beta, delta, omega sort of male -- my tendency, when confronted with the nasty side of romantic entanglements, is to curl up into a little ball of pain and anguish and not return to full bloom until the pre-dawn light of the next newest affection sprinkles, finally, a little sunshine, after days and months and sometimes even years of emotional darkness, into my slowly recuperating heart.
Women, on the other hand, tend to differ. Maybe it’s the lack of any ‘physical’ capacity for vengeance and retribution that drives some women to commit such acts of wanton destruction and diabolical revenge. I can’t be sure. But it seems quite universal. Women tend to express their hurt and anger through concrete action. Men just seem to stew.
And I guess it all comes down to our concept of ‘love’. Because I agree with you when you say the word is overused and, more often than not, abused. Based solely on the cultural definition, as witnessed in your average date movie and Melrose Place re-run, I’ve been ‘in love’. In retrospect, however, once the dopamine has distilled, the sex has lost its allure, the pet-names have turned to nasty defames, and I find myself sitting in a palace of emotional ruin, I’m not exactly sure what to call it. Cause ‘love’ no longer seems appropriate. What, then?
My favourite term is ‘limerence’. A gorgeous little socially ignored word that means, essentially: the state of being in love (but not love itself). A person suffering the pangs of limerence will experience all the classic symptoms of love -- infatuation, difficulty sleeping and eating, constant, typically obsessive thoughts regarding their object of desire, heartache, jealousy, and ‘a general intensity of feeling that leaves other concerns in the background’.
The State of Limerence features all the symptoms of love. But it lacks one crucial component. It lacks the selfless concern we have for those we truly ‘love’. True love should not have a goal or objective. It is not dependant on how our object treats us, or whether or not they reciprocate. Think of the love you have for a parent, a sibling, a best friend -- and transfer that nearly unconditional emotion into a physical relationship. Just add a dash of hot sex.
That’s Love. And, in my experience, very few people ever attain that.
Instead, we find ourselves in a state of Limerence. Which is a slightly heightened form of infatuation. It’s instinctual, primal, and selfish. It’s about how the other person makes us feel. Deep down, it’s usually about Me, Me, Me.
Proof? Look at the lengths people go to display their anger over a lover’s rejection. It baffles me that someone who professes to be so ‘in love’ with their object of desire can, faced with any sort of betrayal, have that ‘love’ turn into such conspicuous enmity. How can we love someone one day, have them then piss us off, and suddenly turn to hating them? If it’s that easy to turn the switch, how could we possibly have loved them in the first place?
I’ve had an ex tear my clothes and gifts to shreds and leave them floating in a public swimming pool. Then call my mother up to discuss, at length, my ‘psychological afflictions’. This same ex, months after the break-up, hacked into my e-mail account and called my new flame up on the phone and badmouthed me for over an hour. Then she called the Department of Immigration and tried to have me deported. To no avail.
This ex and I, as fact would have it, had shared six -- yes six -- dates. Because of our long distance logistical problems, we’d been ‘seeing each other’ for almost a year, but only ‘saw’ each other every few months. This same ex had also, early on, established that we should keep the relationship ‘open’. At least until we shared the same zip code. She then implemented her own advice by proceeding to date three other men during our one-year affair. This same ex, in her own words: Loved me dearly. Considered me her Soulmate. Wanted someday to marry me and have ten-billion of my babies.
She told me she loved me. Over and over again. Yet you can imagine the disconnect I perceived as I stood there plucking my shredded boxer shorts, camping gear, writing journals, and library-loaned paperbacks out of the swimming pool with a long-pole net while she continued to shout, between sobs, “I love you, you fucking bastard!” from her balcony high above.
Love. Yeah, right. I write for a living. And yet, in my worst James Bond nightmare scenario, I couldn’t concoct a more impressive nemesis for myself than the villain the ‘woman who loved me most’ became the moment her bubble burst.
No matter what I may have done to deserve it, the way she punished me was not the action of someone 'in love'. It was more along the lines of how an owner might punish a prized smooth coat chihauhau that made doodoo on the shag carpet and failed to take home the much-promised Westminster blue ribbon. Ten sharp slaps to the snout you bad, bad animal!
Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure some of us have felt true love. I like to think I have. But, as the songs say: Real love means allowing your lover to be who they are. Warts and all. It even means letting them go. Real love is not a selfish thing.
Limerence. That’s our typical state, in my experience. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a perfectly awesome thing, and we should enjoy it to the hilt and let it swoop over us from time to time and fill our days with hot smokin' lightning. Only, we need to understand we're playing around with a highly combustible thing. One of the most dangerous substances on the planet. Tread lightly. Recognize it for what it is. Something miraculous. And yet beyond our control.
As I grow older (and hopefully wiser), I try to keep in mind, when and if a wonderful relationship turns sour, that my hurt and pain is all about Me, Me, Me -- and has very little to do with actual love for another soul. No, once the smoke has cleared, I tend to see it as limerence, instead. And, in my experience, limerence is more aligned with the relationship -- the need, the want, the desire -- an addict has for his source. Pure and strong and, yes, all-consuming… but selfish.
Definitions are interesting. But they don’t mend a hurting heart.
-Shawn
Wed Feb 22, 11:09:41 AM
You: Women, on the other hand, tend to differ. Maybe it’s the lack of any ‘physical’ capacity for vengeance and retribution that drives some women to commit such acts of wanton destruction and diabolical revenge. I can’t be sure. But it seems quite universal. Women tend to express their hurt and anger through concrete action. Men just seem to stew.
Well. Please add this to your 'universal'. I've never done any such thing...I can't be bothered to expend any more energy on anyone not willing to do the same. It's pretty simple, actually.
And another Appendix >> I've seen men do some BRUTAL things to women who they feel betrayed their hearts and love and commitment and what-have-you. 'Psycho' is not a gender-based term.
You: True love should not have a goal or objective. It is not dependant on how our object treats us, or whether or not they reciprocate. Think of the love you have for a parent, a sibling, a best friend -- and transfer that nearly unconditional emotion into a physical relationship. Just add a dash of hot sex.
No offence, but bullshit. You can not equate familial (e.g. parent / sibling) love with any other form of love...not even that of a best friend. Your parents and siblings can betray you and you *may* get over it...But if your best friend betrays you (e.g. screws your husband), and you try to say that your love for her is NOT dependant on how she treats you, then you're a flake and an idiot and possibly, just maybe, a little bit of a pushover.
What you're talking about is a form of obsession, Shawn. One sided and completely unrelated to how the object of your desire treats you.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that love - between lovers (not the familial sort) is about reciprocation on all levels; equal reciprocation of respect on all levels is the baseline here.
You: Instead, we find ourselves in a state of Limerence. Which is a slightly heightened form of infatuation. It’s instinctual, primal, and selfish. It’s about how the other person makes us feel. Deep down, it’s usually about Me, Me, Me.
Proof? Look at the lengths people go to display their anger over a lover’s rejection. It baffles me that someone who professes to be so ‘in love’ with their object of desire can, faced with any sort of betrayal, have that ‘love’ turn into such conspicuous enmity. How can we love someone one day, have them then piss us off, and suddenly turn to hating them? If it’s that easy to turn the switch, how could we possibly have loved them in the first place?
I don't think I understand; please define how you think this is proof.
And I'm really sorry about the experience you had...but I fail to see how the above is proof, honestly.
I personally (seriously) don't understand why violence comes in to play > or burning items, shredding boxers, what have you. But it does a lot of the time. If I could explain it to you, I would >> I just really don't have a clue.
I've been trying to mould my own perception in to the following > if someone lets you down, that's really unfortunate but don't internalise it and let it become a shade of your own personality. Instead > delete the bad and remember the good. Then you're left with a really pretty story and you move on.
I understand there's pain involved and I've seen people go crazy trying to understand a situation...but sometimes you're just best to take things at face value (read: a let down is a let down is a let down. That's it. Time to move on.).
It sounds sort of detached, but what other choice is there? Saves you a hell of a lot of time, too.
You: Limerence. That’s our typical state, in my experience. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a perfectly awesome thing, and we should enjoy it to the hilt and let it swoop over us from time to time and fill our days with hot smokin' lightning. Only, we need to understand we're playing around with a highly combustible thing. One of the most dangerous substances on the planet. Tread lightly. Recognize it for what it is. Something miraculous. And yet beyond our control.
Agreed :) & what a pretty pretty word!
Nice to see you commenting!
maha
Mon Feb 27, 02:39:58 PM
I had to repost these because the comments field seems to have gone a little wonky.
I've fixed everything and we're back in order :)
m
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