Thursday, July 1, 2010

The Marrying Kind

Remember this post I wrote about marriage back in August of 2008? It's okay if you don't, because (pun intended), I do. Realizing that about myself was a huge damn deal for me... but here we are almost 2 years later & I'm still trying to work out what the heck it all means.

One of the things I heard loud and clear at the PAX workshop I attended back in mid-May, is that the number one reason a man will ask a woman to marry him is that he thinks he is the guy who can make her most happy. Not one of the guys, but the guy. If he thinks for even one second that he cannot win at this task (make her happy), he will not expend one ounce of his energy to even ask her. Because remember, for guys, winning and scoring points is kind of the very make up of their DNA. 

Yeah, he may date her indefinitely. He may share a home with her. He may provide for her in small ways financially, emotionally, or physically. He may even have kids with her. But he'll never make her his wife if she's made it abundantly clear that he can't possibly make her happy.

Whoa. That's kind of huge, right?

So that got me to thinking about all the ways in which I convey my UN-happiness -- not just with the men in my life, but with everyone. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm never happy, or that I don't express sincere gratitude and joy for all the wonderful things in my life (and believe me people, I totally recognize that there's loads of stuff in my life that's awesome and wonderful and perfect), it's just that I so often have tempered my state of happiness with a backhanded comment or judgment that pretty much negated the very happiness I was trying to convey in the first place.

Again. Whoa.

Note: I really hate it when I peel away another layer from this crazy onion that is me. It's so G-d damned annoying to discover there is more shite I have to look at, work on, discard, and "gah!", keep DIGGING for.

I'm just thinking out loud here. You know, trying to make an observation about my experience... I do know how to have a long-term relationship (my longest being 8 years), so that's not my "problem". However, there clearly is a reason why I've never even lived with a man, let alone been married to one. Right? So it follows that there's gotta be a reason why I've never even been asked to do either of those things.

I don't want to beat myself up about this, nor do I want to have a judgment about the men I dated for years and years who never asked; I just want to notice that there is was a pattern. And now that I've noticed, I'd also like to make the subtle shift and learn to focus on putting the happy back into my happiness.

This has nothing to do with finding or keeping a man. I am no longer worried about my ability to do that. I don't know why I've spent the last 20+ years telling myself that I couldn't trust or be fully honest with men, or why I justified my Supreme Bitchiness, that they somehow deserved it because they were all the enemy, or worse, telling myself that there was something horrifically wrong with ME, and then all the ways in which I proceeded to hide my real self (the soft/mushy/girlie self) from every man that ever crossed my path by being a straight up monster.

WTF was that all about? When did I decide that it wasn't okay to just be a girl &/or to be vulnerable and open? Why not just celebrate all the awesome things that men are, instead of comparing them (or myself) to some ridiculous notion of the Ideal Woman who lives in my head? P.S. the Ideal Woman is a total evil & self-sabotaging bitch and she needs to get the heck out of my damn head.

Men are not hairy women. They're just men. Glorious, innocent, spectacular, perfect.

I honestly don't know anymore if I'll ever get married. The good news is that for today, I'm becoming kind of okay with that. But I'll also admit that someday, I'd at least like to find out what it's like to be the marrying kind.

And that my friends, is 100% on me.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I want you to be happy, :) and the "never" has became a "maybe".

me