The Man I Want

The man I want is kind…

The man I want is brave…

The man I want is wise…

…I want a man who can lead, but who doesn’t have to.  And actually, in many regards, that’s why I fell for Mark.   He’s a strong person, but he doesn’t have to have his way…  constantly.

Our life together has been lovely in that way I guess…  And yet ironically, if he wasn’t capable of giving me the reins once and a while we would never have gotten into a messy marriage to begin with…

Mark, as I’ve discussed, saw women as something to conquer, collect and insult.  But, he also saw them as equals and he genuinely wanted to build a loving, happy and nurturing family someday.   It was total cognitive dissonance…

Mark was raised a Jew and on his first trip to Israel, as a very young man, he prayed at the Wailing Wall for only one thing.  He prayed to someday get married and have a family.   And, I suppose God answered his prayer.  Perhaps he should have added a happy marriage, but anyway.  🙂

Let me also restate that Mark was a total alcoholic.  He once told me, when we were first dating, that he didn’t think he’d live long into his 30’s.  And he may have been right.  He was a dangerous drinker…  Once he found himself in the hospital after a night of very heavy drinking and couldn’t remember how he got there.  Two of his neighbor’s later told him that they had found him and called the police.  He got caught driving drunk once too, but he was young enough then so it wasn’t too damaging to his record.

And yet, this beautiful soul, was still able to function well enough to be a good actuary – passing actuarial exam after exam like they were a grade school spelling tests.  He was later fired more for his belligerence and disrespect for his boss than anything else.  He thought telling people who wanted to discipline you in some way to go “fuck themselves” was always best…

My husband is a genius.  He just flat out is…  But don’t let his tales of charisma and adventure fool you.  He was not a happy man.  He was miserable.  And yes, he thought he was likely going to end up dying young.  But he didn’t care because his life meant very little to him.

He didn’t have anybody that he thought was a real friend in his life.  He once wrote in his diary that he had a hard time getting truly close to people, and that was true.  People tried to truly get to know him but he was distant… He was lost somewhere.  Half sober and half just confused.

His parents were very busy people.  He rarely saw his brother.  His grandparents and him had a relationship but they weren’t that close either.

He once told me that one of the reasons he enjoyed taking women home at night was because he wouldn’t be alone.  “Women” were as much about companionship as anything else. It wasn’t unusual that they were more interested in actually having sex than he was.

When I started dating him we had long conversations about so many things…  And eventually, he started questioning his life choices.   When I told him that I wanted a real commitment or I’d never see him again he relented and decided he couldn’t let me go.

He told me that he felt so out of control when he started developing feelings for me.  And he did develop feelings…  I’m not sure how deep those feelings were, which is part of the problem in our relationship obviously, but… this was a man who had barely felt much of anything for almost a decade.

Casual, so called meaningless sex was the perfect match for his silenced soul.  Shallow relationships were all he could create.  And, in his usual brilliance, he made a lot of them…

Anyway, he says I saved him.  I kid you not. He does

Because I just couldn’t get over him, I kept cracking away at that shell piece by fucking piece until he finally opened up to me.  It was that or die inside.  I had to do something…  And when he did open up, he got sober.  I told him he had to or I’d leave (and I meant it).  I hoped it would work and it did.   We were so intertwined that even if he wasn’t that deeply in love we couldn’t let go of each other.  We collaborated and because we were both capable of taking turns being in charge it worked…

Out of that bond two things happened:  I finally lost total control of my life (and didn’t care because I was so in love) and he finally gained control of his.  We both know this…  And, it’s part of why we are such good friends.  We understand each other in some rather deep way.  Not necessarily the same intimate and tender way romantic partners do but more as… something else.  Like friends but so much more…  And our love is one that is mutual and meaningful.  If we get married again it will be something our partners will have to understand…  We are genuinely very close.

But, it is a relationship I don’t want to create again with any other man.  I want a relationship with a man that is one of collaboration but I don’t want him to save me and I certainly don’t want to save him.  Not because I don’t care about people either, but just because I can’t totally exhaust whatever I have left in myself…

I thought that something was starting with Handsome, albeit in an unconventional way…  But…  I don’t know what it was now.  It could have been a perverse trick played on me by a man looking for a giggle or two.  It could have been a man actually flirting with me and then who knows what…  Maybe he got attached to it and thought I was silly to be bothered by the presence of another woman flirting in front of me?  Maybe he just wanted lots of people to flirt with…   I don’t really know.

Right now I’m focused on trying to move forward and taking care of myself (as trite as that sounds). I’ve said that on this blog so many damn times…

I wanted something to happen with Handsome because I thought he was different than Mark or other men I’ve dated.  I thought he was a deep, sensitive and mature person. I thought he was sincere.  He seemed to have an ability to be charming and authentic but with a lovely dash of whimsy mixed in for the unusual.  I thought that beautiful whimsy was the impetus for our interactions.  But, I don’t know now…

What I do know is that I’m working on writing a novel, (perhaps two actually) because that’s what I want to do.  I’ve thought about going back to finish my degree but I’m not sure if I should just finish my political science degree or do something else entirely.  I wish, at this point, that I had majored in art history or French (as truly wonderful as my politics advisor was).  I think studying political science was a bad combination of too much emotion and not enough at the same time…

There are times throughout the past few years that I’ve even considered becoming a gemologist…   I have a good eye for such things.   When I bought my first diamond (I threw one into the Puget Sound during a horrible fight years ago – haha) I did a lot of research on how they’re graded.  And I seem to be able to see flaws in them that most people don’t notice…  My last diamond wasn’t very big (under 1 carat) but it was an f vvs1…  I love the beauty of gemstones almost as much as I love fragrances.  But I don’t want to be a perfumer.  I don’t know why, because I love fragrances…  I just don’t.  Maybe I should be though…

Oh well, what I really want to do is write.  Write a novel.  But…  I know I’ll have to have a plan b.  So…  I’m working on that.

Anyway…  Enough of this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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