I think lately I've
been worried about saying important things and making bold statements in case
they turn out to be wrong. Perhaps it's a symptom of starting out in a new
place with new people, I'm not sure. Regardless, it's cowardly, and there's
nothing that I hate more than a coward. Maybe one day I'll look back at this
blog and think God how wrong I was about x, but I don't think that's a good
enough reason to stop saying honest things, how they appear to me at the
specific moment – I ain’t got the answers. So hold on tight kids, it's a big
one this time.
So, I have this
theory (and ample evidence) that I can be anybody's perfect girl for roughly
two weeks. Now this of course has certain restrictions; the men who are
attracted to me, as well as 'perfect' not meaning flawless - it means being
right in that moment. I should also explain that I'm under no illusion about my
faults and merits, I know where I stand. I desperately want to dispel this
theory, to find evidence to the contrary or another explanation, so this is my
way of working through the options I guess. Welcome to the ride.
 |
| Convincing fake relationship (still give it 2 weeks tops) |
I wonder sometimes maybe
if the men I've been involved with have seen me as an embodiment of the life I
lived at Cambridge; perhaps they wanted a piece of the glitter, of the fun, of
the (often slightly idiotic) abandon. Every romantic involvement that has been
of any kind of gravity has begun with tumbling intensity, snatched moments and
urgency, urgency. The reflection of myself I could see in the mirror of them is
beautiful, it's me at my best. Suffice to say I'm not perpetually at my best, (especially
spending 50% of my time hungover). It’s just not possible to run around all the
time, to constantly have arms open to the air - one has to catch ones breath
between the laughter. Thought: volatile living attracts changing minds? It
was always in the quiet moments when I could feel them slipping away - it's
easy to make someone want to keep you when you look like you might bolt any
second, harder in the stillness. Waking up in the mild mid-morning to find them
already awake and staring at nothing, me waking next to them perhaps more hard
work than they'd bargained for.
One person who I
was involved with told his friends that he'd "found the kind of girl he
wanted to spend his life with". Now there are two tell-tale red flags that
arise from this statement; firstly the wording - "type", what type am
I? His type? The type? Can anyone
actually accurately be described as a type when we're all such walking balls of
contradicting, ever-changing chaos? Nah. Secondly this happened the morning
after the night we met. This is where my part of the blame begins to sneak in -
I unashamedly love a love story, so when one is offered to me, regardless of
how temporary and how ill advised, my god I will take it. Is it my fault for
being so naive or their fault for offering me a grand romantic narrative they
can't live up to?
To be honest I don’t
think that assigning blame is all that useful in solving ye grande riddle.
These guys don’t know what they're looking for, and before being sure, they think
they've found it in a sweet little package, so throw everything in because that
seems like the right thing to do - I don't think I could ever blame anyone for
doing this, it's the way I believe life should be lived, and this is why every
time I’m so willingly complicit. My flatmate suggested last night that this
happens to me so often because I expect it to – I attract these difficult guys because
I subconsciously anticipate things being difficult – like I said, I love a love
story and aren’t all the best ones difficult? Yessir. But I don’t think I
distinguish very well between things that are worth the fight and things that
are best left alone, (I’m from the north, everything’s a scrap). In the end I
need to accept that for some people I cannot be the answer; as both Bob Dylan
and Johnny cash said; it ain't me babe. If people try and make me into their
answer, into their perfect girl, of course things will unravel, of course I
can't live up to what their questions demand, I cannot be enough for them if I
rightly demand to keep some of myself, for myself.
____
For throwback to past blog tirade of relationship-based outrage click here
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