I don’t think I’ve ever had a man fall in love with me. Men fall in love with an idea of me.
I lived my life for other people for so long I have become an expert in melting into people, becoming their ideal partner, being everything they’ve ever wanted. I have gotten much better at not doing this, instead staying true to myself in a relationship. I have so many different parts of myself, which appeal to so many men. Men don’t consciously try to change me, but instead they become attached to parts of me they like. They slowly edit other parts out. They forget parts until all they see is a version of me; a version they like. Then they fall in love with parts without falling in love with the rest. I love cooking, reading, baking, and sewing, and for a guy who wants a stay at home wife those are perfect things. I am not that person because they are forgetting the me who likes to travel, dance, work, change, learn and so much more. Men photo shop me into their perfect woman. I can never live up to myself.
I have consistently been placed on a pedestal or been made into an icon. I have been treated like a princess, a queen. Had my every want, need, and whim catered to. Whipped I think is the word that comes to mind. Except I never trained, asked, or sought for this. I have fought against it. I don’t want a whipped man. I don’t want a pedestal or pampering. It’s exhausting having to live up to an ideal of perfection.
The worst part about it is these men see the brokenness which is me. They never edit this part out. In a way, I make sure it is there to try to scare them away. They think it’s cute. It gives them just another excuse to treat me well. To make up for the wrongs done to me by others. They accept the challenges of PTSD, rape, abuse, and therefore thick walls with open arms and hearts. They welcome the challenge that is my psyche. I push with truths and realities, but they just come back stronger than ever with tissues and my favorite candy.
I show my inadequacies and pitfalls, but instead of being imperfect to them it turns me into a relatable, down-to-earth, normal, saner-than-most, honest girl.
It’s horrible because I am exhausted. I am tired of fighting my demons and looking sane and making due. I am tired of struggling. I am tired of always coming up short. I am tired of never being enough. Some days I just want to give in to one of these nice men and say you can take care of me now. I know they would pay all of my bills and let me sleep with a peace of mind I’ve never had. I won’t give in to the temptation. At the end of the day, all they ever see is the portion they love. The domestic side, the smart side, the cultured side, the feisty side, the pretty side. They love a piece. I know if I were to give in one day I would wake up from my peaceful sleep and be so direly unhappy with my life I would leave that nice man, and ruin his heart.
I’m not perfect. I don’t want a pedestal. I want a partner. Someone to fight with me. I am tired, but I won’t give in.