Tuesday, September 28, 2010
"It's not you, it's me."
& I don't know when all that changed but somewhere along the line, I decided that the last thing I wanted is someone who's going to be all up in my shit.
& the baggage. Holy shit. If we're going to be together, at this stage in my life, you're not even allowed to have baggage.
I feel like sometimes I pester Mr. Flintstone because he kind of goes through life like one high, Asian robot. It's like the only things he's capable of feeling are "Whoa," and "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."
The following is a hypothetical situation between Mr. Flintstone and I:
Scene: Snuggling on living room floor
Me: Hey, is everything okay? You're kinda quiet.
Me: I don't know what to do with that.
Flintstone: Can I have a massage?
Me: Yes, but hold on, we're talking.
Flintstone: About what?
Me: About your feelings.
Flintstone--distracted by dog. What?
Me: Omigosh, baby pay attention.
Flintstone: Oh myyyyy gosh. I did it again so I'ma let the beat drop.
Me: Okay, no really.
Flintstone: Okay, no reeeaaallly.
Me: Is something wrong? I sometimes find it's easier to work through my emotions via interpretive dance.
Flintstone--distracted by dog.
Me: You're not even listening.
Flintstone: I am.
Me: What's the last thing I said?
Flintstone: You're not even listening.
Me: Uggggh. Are you okay?
Flintstone: Am I getting a massage?
Okay, I've never interpretively danced unless you count dancing to Cameo's hit single, Candy, in the morning when I get ready as dancing interpretively. [But I think there's more to it.]
Anyway, it used to drive me crazy that Mr. Flintstone doesn't have real feelings.
When I realized I am socially inept to deal with anyone else's shit.
It's happened a few times now where I'm totally into someone and then they pour out all these feelings and I feel like they just took a shit on my lap.
& I'm sitting there thinking, "Omigosh. We can never undo this. I'll never forgive you for taking an emotional dump on my levis. Things are going to be so weird everytime I see you now." & usually, I'm just itching to get the fuck away from that person and breathe. But like, literally, itching.
I don't know where I'm going with this.
What I'm trying to say is nothing used to freak me out when it came to relationships.
& now I'm extra selfish.
(Note: I'd be that crab on this post. Selfish Shellfish. Yah, I'm sooo clever).
I only want to deal with my shit and I don't want all the cards on the table or to have to answer to anyone.
Right now the kind of guy I can handle is a man I'm going to have to stab in the biceps with a fork every now and then to make sure he is still capable of feeling; the kind of guy who'd rather get a massage than take an emotional barf all over my face/dump on my jeans. whatever.