In my circle of friends, I was always known for being the most boy-crazy.
Yes, world. I objectify men. I figure it's only fair, seeing how they've gotten away with objectifying us since our species began.
I always thought that once I had a man, I would be content with him merely wanting me--"loving" me if we have to use the dreaded L-word.
Nope. Not so.
Apparently, now I also need to be "understood" or some such nonsense.
I want him to try, at least, to understand the "why" of my personality. When I tell him vaguely of my past, I need him to ask about what happened. When I say something rude, or mean, or sarcastic, or bitter, I need him to tell me how inexcusable I am acting. I need him to wonder why I live virtually alone caring for an old bachelor's house.
I wish I could hand any future man in my life a list of "Things you should know about Reg, " because I am awful at bringing up important things in everyday conversations. But I feel like it would just be too dramatic to say, "Oh, and guess what? My mother wasted away from a mysterious illness no doctor could name. My family blamed me because I didn't make her go to the hospital sooner. Then she went crazy and became mean and I wanted her to die. Then she died. "
Awkward silence.
Your butterfly,
Reg
post script: I loved her so very much.
post post script: It's okay to laugh bitterly. I do it all the time.
post post post script: I hate mentioning this topic because everyone has their own sorrows, and each individual sorrow is unique. I cannot being to understand any person's sorrow but mine.
Each individual's sorrow IS unique, and each individual deserves the right to tell the important people in their life about their sorrow. Society prohibits us from asking about touchy subjects, but common sense should tell us that everyone needs to tell their story.
ReplyDeleteThe dumb f*** should ask already.