Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Because I'm Insane.

I imagined stabbing his eyes out, cutting off his penis, and then dragging him all the way to Madrid to tie them both together, and light them on fire. I'd record their screams into hell and turn it into the background music of a video installation of me laughing hysterically and dancing. Instead, I punched myself in the face a few times and cut all of my hair off.

This is the difference between men and women: When he's hurt he throws caveman tantrums, I instead turn the anger upon myself. I'm not a passive person, I am not afraid of confrontation, but there is a certain kind of anger that invokes self loathing and from what I can tell that's how women deal with it. One tiny lie, and the chain reaction goes, and goes, and I can't make decisions and I can't turn off my thoughts.

In the midst of the depression he can't understand how one thing can be connected to the other. He lied, and thinks that's somehow separate from my inability to change out of sweatpants, thinking I'm fat and disgusting, and the refusal to wear makeup after sacrificing my hair to a moment of intense hatred. The funny thing is that he lies all of the time, and only this has sent me into a sort of downward spiral. It's the difference between men and women, socially taught, I can see what's happening, I know the cause and effect of the pressure, however I can't turn off the tears.

I've always believed that women are more sexist against women than men. I think it's warranted, women are terrible, and I don't really like them either. They are stressed and confusing, and often confused. However, it's not because we are born insane. The social pressure is much more fierce, and we're raised in a world that doesn't actually exist. Again, I blame Disney. We're supposed to be perfect, sweet, smart, and beautiful. Above all else beautiful. We are supposed to be Madonna and the Whore. We're supposed to be agreeing, and passive, like a pink fucking cupcake with cream filling. We are judged harshly for all of our faults as well as our mates. If a man cheats, we assume the wife was a cunt, if the women cheats, she's an extra cunt.

If that's not enough pressure, while we are holding ourselves to ridiculous standards, we are also seeking out a prince, a knight, someone who doesn't exist. Someone, who despite their ability to have ANYONE, chose us, because we're perfect, we're special, we're fucking fuckable and a member of MENSA. It's a total crockpot of shit and we all know it. But, honestly it's ingrained in us, we're indoctrinated into the love of Walt Fucking Disney. So when you meet Mr. Right, and it turns out he's loved half of the girls he's ever stuck his dick in all you can think is, I'm not the only one? And, what's wrong with me? Lying breaks trust, and when you can't trust someone you are suddenly perpetually re-thinking everything they've ever said and questioning it. "I love you", turns into, "I am saying this because I want something, you're the same as everyone else, nothing special, sorry about that". This still confuses me because honestly I feel as though love is reflexive. People love the way you make them feel, and that's it. There is no real, "love" for another. Sorry Echo.

However, I suppose that makes sense. In exchange theory, everything difficult is valuable. Things that are easy are not valuable. I believe this is the cornerstone of how humans choose everything from shoes to friends. Difficulty. You want someone who is not easy to obtain, because they are valuable, and them loving you makes you feel special, and that feeling makes you love them back. It's all a game. It unravels in the same way.

My friend asked me what it is that women want. It's actually pretty easy. They want a man who has fucked a million women, but hated all of them except for you. I don't want a virgin, I don't have time to spend a year teaching him where to put it and how to do it, but I want to believe that every girl on earth was nothing more than a fuckhole with a head (with an extra fuckhole). It's easy, any time you talk about an ex girlfriend say something like, "We had sex every night, because it was so bad I was never satisfied". Or, "sometimes after sex I would throw up because she smelled like mustard". Why? Because I'm disposable, and I know it, but I don't want to hear it. I know that one girl is the same as the next, with little variation, but in order to have any security at all I need to believe (ignorance is bliss) that it's not the case, just maybe.

And this is how the chain reaction starts. First I find out I'm nothing in particular, which makes me a replacement and replaceable. Self esteem takes a hit. Then, the comparison starts. Despite the fact she looks like a gerbil, I can't help but notice she was thinner than I am. Eating stops. I remember every conversation where we talked about your sex life with her. Sex stops. I remember the locations you said you'd been with her. Cross contamination rules put into place. Going out stops. It goes on forever. And in the end, relationship stops. This is the difference between men and women. Trust doesn't make us mistrust you, more so, it makes us hate US.

Once you feel like nothing, you feel like nothing. Sex doesn't fix it (not even anal...we tried). There is no coming back from being, "one of the masses". There was no "Cinderella number 2, the rebound" though it's more true to nature. I'm trying day and night to realize how insane I am being and to stop it. I know that I'm attractive, I know that I'm intelligent, I know I don't look like a fucking gerbil, but still, for reasons I can't understand, I don't feel any of the things I know. And for what? One lie, about the length of his previous relationship. The moment the story went from "we dated for 4 months and I never talked to her again" to, "I really dated her for nearly two years, right up until I met you", it was finished.

I'd still like to light him on fire. But more likely than not I'll just shave what's left of my hair.

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