Okay. So just to update you on the "man situation" - I caved. BUT before you bow your head in agonizing realization, please listen to the following! Something changed. Maybe it was the fact that I realized that he would never walk down this path, more to do with religion than anything. I sat there awake in the bed, admiring the perfectly textured ceilings in his room thinking to myself "holy crap, I am so over this, I am so bored with this situation". Its like some part of my chemistry changed as I realized how much of the bed he took up and how unbelievably frustrating his snoring was.
The snoring was basically what started this, not so much snoring as peeling the paint off the walls. The sounds he makes when he is completely detached from the world are nothing short of hilarious. Sounded a lot like a cross between an untuned muscle car motor, starving for gas and that sound that was made when my dad used to blow bubbles on my tummy in the summer at the lake with my torso partially submerged. I waited for him to actually stop breathing, thankfully that never happened. I felt like I should record some of his snoring and play it back for myself as a constant reminder of what life would be like with him. I even reached for my phone to do it, but realized that I was trapped. Coupled with the strained noises exhausted by his obviously pained respiratory system was the all-encompassing cuddles. I literally disappear in his arms! This quality was pretty much the selling feature with him. I loved being "lost" in his arms, I felt protected and secure. But not tonight. Tonight I sympathized with my parents channel changer. That death grip my dad would have on the remote as he "rested his eyes" in his recliner watching golf. I swear not even the most carefully trained bomb squad could carefully pry the remote from dad's hands without him realizing it was missing, nor could they pry me from his suffocating death grip.
He had asked me to set the alarm on my phone and wake him up. This would usually make me feel like I was contributing something and that he appreciated it. But that night it just felt like a hassle. Experiment has shown that I know that he won't wake up for an alarm, hell there could be a civil war reenactment on his front lawn outside of his open bedroom window and he still wouldn't wake up! AND I knew that even though I woke up and had to wake him up I knew he wouldn't get up and I'd have to hit snooze and do it all over again ten minutes later. great.
Because I went in bitter and deterred, I realized the small things that I didn't before. I realized that although we do have a lot in common, he is a very condescending person. Every time I was re-telling a story, he would challenge my facts and question my reasoning. While I am all for a healthy debate, its really hard to argue with someone when they have "religion" on their side. That, my friends, is almost always an uphill battle. Contrary to popular belief the word Christian is not synonymous with "open mind".
Then we get to the intimate portion of the evening and I realized just how bad that part is too. I would equate his style of "pleasing his mate" with that of a puppy who isn't housebroken. Fumbling around in the dark with a sense of urgency looking for a place to pee. I began realizing the predictability of his actions and how bored I am with them.
The next morning he confessed how bad he felt, how hungover he was. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. You're getting straight up played. You are there to serve a purpose and that's all. I recounted the nights activities to myself and started to poke holes (big ones) in my fantasy partner. I realized that what he is looking for in a mate is a weak female. A female who stays in the kitchen, a female who is soft spoken, the idealistic christian housewife. I suddenly realized that I would never be what he wanted, to him I won't ever be "good enough" and for me I will never be "boring or dumb enough".
He wants a woman who will bring a homemade chili to his friends BBQ's, who will sit in the back and converse quietly with the other "wives" while he goes out with the boys into the back shed, does a couple of shots and talks about boobs and diesel engines. While she is quietly exchanging chili recipes (which would be bland at best) he is doing "man stuff" off in the distance. She might get a kiss out of the deal, but a soft quick Peck on his way back to the man cave from the fridge to receive another pint. If its a wild one she will bring some kind of girlie drink with the words "mud, Malibu or milkshake" in the title, a pack of four and she'll have maybe two. At the end of the night she will be disgusted by his drunk antics, load him into the truck and take him home. She will crawl carefully into bed beside him, get lost in his arms and her anger will subside. For she is a good wife.
I'd bring the homemade chili to the BBQ, it would be some kind of Tex-Mex variation though, I pride myself on my ability to cook well - In I'd walk crock pot in one hand and a either a 2/6 or a box of beer under my arm. While he goes out to the man cave I'd take the opportunity to have an animated conversation with the girls and by the time he came back in for beer I'd have them all laughing hysterically. As he walked back out to the man cave I might follow him out the front doors quickly and give him a kiss, a good one, pat him on his ass and send him on his way. By the night's end I'd imagine that we'd both be well into our 2/6 and be making arrangements to take a cab home. We'd both spill into the cab and then spill into the house, hilariously searching for the house keys...I think you can see where this is going.
In conclusion, you can kind of see where I am at. The end. The end of us. I realize that I was in love with who you could've been and not who you are. Timing is everything and hindsight is always 20/20. I learned an important lesson in this whole thing - see people for who they are in these moments, not who you think they should be and realize that its okay not to like them. I am sure we will remain friends, but I know we won't ever be as "close" as we once were...no worries babe, it's not you, it's me.
