Apparently, stirring the hornets nest with a lit torch is not a good idea. I'm referring to my previous blog, "Do I Really Need A Man?" An interesting and telling alternate title, chosen by the powers that be. It was a line pulled from my text, and I liked it, as it certainly relates to how I feel about my three divorces.
What I noted from the stimulated 1300 commentors in 48 hours was that it was a pretty fair 50/50 split across the bored. These were my observations: A. Everybody either loved me or hated me. 2. It was a heads I win, tails you lose, on whether or not I did in fact need a man, want a man, want a woman, want a cat, hate men, brainwash women or what was I doing for dinner. C. It all my ex-husbands fault for the failure of my marriages, or it was all mine, and that I should be encouraged to take a serious long look in the mirror, and not just to put on my make-up this time.
I'd like to talk a little more about "C". I remember being told by an ex that I was "crazy" over and over again whenever I thought I was being lied to or cheated on. That would have been a real red flag, except I just saw a female private investigator explaining that's the classic way to manipulate a woman into self doubt. For full effect, telling someone theyￊﾼre "crazy" should be done while brushing long imaginary hair, with an invisible brush.
Still, what's wrong with me? I'm stumped. Oh wait, there was that time when I heard about an extended kissing scene (part of the lump of coal involved when marrying an actor) that went on long after the Director yelled, "Cut!" When the subject was broached, I was told that I was "suspicious and paranoid." Aren't those the feelings you're supposed to have when you hear somebody's been making out with your significant other after the crew has been wrapped, and you're waiting at home with a roast chicken and a bottle of wine that you just drank alone?
I've also been told I was "needy" and that drives people away, but what makes someone cheat? Not enough at home, not good enough at home, or yippee, I'm far enough away from home. People have needs and not all of them get met, so some might think, "Maybe outside of my own box, I can get taken care of better, in a way that doesn't reveal all of my mistakes, regrets and stupidity." But when that person staggers home at 4:30 a.m. because they just wrapped the car around a stop sign down the street, and you dare to ask, "Where the hell have you been? I was so worried about you, I thought you were dead!" And they slur, "You're so needy." What I'm thinking is, "I needy a new place to live."
Maybe I love too much? I've done quite a bit of cheerleading for men, their dreams, their careers, their children. My pom-poms are worn thin -- nothing left but a few random strands of fringe. At this juncture, I'm thinking, "Gimme the ball, gimme the ball, gimme the damn ball." Personally, I think it's easier for women to put down their pom-poms and run with the ball. If a man drops the ball and picks up the pom-poms, someone will be calling for a stretcher. Many times I felt as though the cheering section for me was not like the cheering section for him. Riddle me this: Do men really dig it when a woman makes more money or has more fame and God forbid, he's addressed as Mr. Woman's Maiden Name? Is that not the most horrible in awkward dude moments, ever? Whereas, if a woman were accidentally referred to as Mrs. Dude Du Jour, she's instantly flattered or at least "should" be.
Have I ever been argumentative, defensive, mean and bitchy? Of course I have, I learned from the best at an all girl's high school. It's where I learned to stand up for myself and have a voice. Sometimes that's attractive; other times it can be a threat. So, to answer a favorite question, "What part of the problem am I?" I believe the endless desire to please and provide for someone else has distracted me from being able to completely please and provide for myself. So now, I'm using this wide open plain of time for my daughter, my career and myself. The wonderful thing is I'm not distressed by the lack, I'm encouraged by it.
There will always be parts of life that are embarrassing. I'm not particularly proud of three failed marriages, but I do know that I gave it a try. The truth is, people change; sometimes we change with them, sometimes we don't. We can cry about it, be shamed by it, laugh at it, and move on. Every lesson we learn should become part of our compass for better navigation for the future, which is now. Right now, I choose to laugh because it helps and thereￊﾼs one person in particular I have to thank for that. My older brother, Matt, has a fantastic razor sharp wit, from I which I learned at a young age, "If I'm not able to laugh at myself, then I'll be the only one outside of the joke." So I learned how to take it, I also learned how to dish it out, by Matt, "The Master of All Observations." Thanks to Matt, I am a great spin-doctor who turns otherￊﾼs hurtful actions into comedy. Thanks to my ex-husbands, I have plenty of material to gather from.