Wednesday, September 22, 2010

And I Lie Well...Hallelu

Lying. We all do it. Little ones. Big ones. Malicious ones. Kind ones. It's just a part of human interaction. When we're kids, it's black and white, but as you get older, it becomes a grey area.


Generally the rule is the worst kind of lying is the kind we do to ourselves. Because on some level, you know you're lying to yourself and on another level, you just reject that, rationalize it.


But personally, I think the worst kind of lying is the kind where you ask a question, asking for honesty while deep down you wish that the other person will lie through their teeth and eyes and other body parts. You typically ask this question when you know that truthfully, the other person does not have the answer you want. So of course you proceed to ask the question, assuring the other person, I won't get mad! or I just want you to be completely honest...Like I said though, we all secretly want that person to lie. In no place is this more common than romantic relationships or sexual relationships. And in no place is this more deadly.

I once asked a boyfriend about the cuteness of a girl. Now, this girl was gorgeous and she was a dancer. So...yeah. Obviously I knew she was attractive. She just so happened to be quite smitten with my boyfriend. She'd flirt with him in front of me and he would flirt back. Of course I was uneasy and jealous. She stood as this symbol of perfection I knew I would never be and my boyfriend had an obvious interest in her perfection. I tried my hardest to ignore the nagging "HE WANTS HER, NOT YOU" voice in my head, but it just refused to shut up. This led to me one day asking my boyfriend, "So, Perfect Species of Female sure does like to flirt with you. Are you attracted to her? Honestly, I won't get mad if you say yes."

Now, I knew his honest answer would be yes. And I knew I was going to be pissed if he was actually honest. Deep down I just wanted him to deny her attractive factor and tell me how he didn't even notice her, I was the apple of his eye. Which I realize makes me sound super insecure. Because it is. But Pikachu bless his little heart for not caring about my feelings or insecurities because he decided to answer honestly. He told me how yes, she did flirt with him a lot and she was really pretty, but he had me, so yeah. Which loosely translated in my mind as "yeah, there's this better thing I could have and do want, but I've already got this old thing here." My feelings were hurt. But as much as I wanted to get pissed at him for his sensitive, caring answer, I couldn't. I was the one who asked for the truth when all I really wanted was a lie.

Lesson learned you would think. But of course, no.

Enter fuck buddy. I was texting him while I was out with some friends. He knew one of my friends, so I told him she said hey. He told me to say hey back for him. (I know, you don't need the boring word for word, but just hold your horses) So I did. Then he decides to tell me how cute she is. (!) I agree because she is. Then he says something about how she's cool, too. (!!). Which again, I agree because she is. So, at this point, I have to push it. I had to ask the question. Again, I knew his honest answer was going to hurt, but that didn't stop me. I asked him honestly, who would he rather fuck, me or her? My emotions are not involved with this guy as in, I'm not attached to him on a emotional level. but I would like to think you would be attracted to the girl you're fucking. Or at least be smart enough to lie to the girl you are fucking. That's all I wanted. For him to lie. Of course he didn't. He told me her, because she's honestly the type of girl he would date. I couldn't get pissed. I set myself up for that. I knew deep down what he would honestly reply.

Obviously this is a sad pattern. Even sadder because I am basically begging men to lie to me so I can have some sort of validation that I am pretty or wanted. The saddest because I let men like that in my life. Sadderest because I will take even a lie that I am pretty or wanted for an answer from a complete asshole.

I wish I could say I am a totally confident woman, sure of herself and her body. But I'm not. I won't apologize for my body, but of course I doubt it. And it frustrates me beyond all hell that I feel the need for men to give me that confidence or assurance. That I can't rely on myself for that strength. It never helps that I tend to believe that being attractive means you're wanted and being wanted is what gets you in a relationship. And as I am currently standing alone like the cheese that the Farmer in the Dell always picks last, it stands to reason (in my head) that I am not wanted and therefore not attractive.



And all of that is lame sandwich to think. But think it I do. The older I get the easier it is to dismiss that desperate need to be wanted or looking for acceptance outside myself. As a woman of 24 I am more okay with being unattached to a male and less obsessed with the thought of coupling. I do grow tired of watching the Farmer in the Dell picking his wife, his dog, then all his barnyard animals before he gets to me. Being that damned cheese gives you a complex. Gives you a lot of time to ask...when will I be picked?

But next week I will start my new line of posts of my adventures in being active. Doing the picking instead of waiting to be picked.

And you'll come back next week to read it. Because I'm a great blogger, right? You can be completely honest, I won't get mad, I promise...

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