The thing about loving men that are unavailable is that I don’t get the love back. Sure, I get one evening of fun, laughs & maybe smooches, or it’s a bottle of champagne attached to some compliments. I get out-of-the-blue phone calls or emails. I do not expect replies to mine, though.
I do not get the adoration, the focus, the knowledge that I am everything to them.
I can’t be.
It’s not that there is something else distracting them. Because it is me that’s the distraction.
And it has taken me awhile to get back to realising that I do deserve this. Being the 100% object of one man’s affection.
A few years ago I refused to ever be the girl with whom a guy cheated on his woman. Not even a sneaky kiss on a dance floor. N.O.T.H.I.N.G.
Na Aah, honey, are you still in a relationship? Then back away and just be my mate.
Fuck Champs, why do you always have to be such a hard arse!
I recall being asked time and again from The Green Man Claremont to the steps of The Colony and even all the way to the smoky cafes of France.
Two reasons. I never wanted to be in that position of that woman who was getting cheated on. And I also did not believe in playing second best.
It’s all me, honey. Or it’s nothing.
Something changed along the line. Someone changed me. I fell in love with him and let all such beliefs go. Funny that, in getting a man, I became lonelier than I had ever been. Moments of happiness had to be hidden. Or twisted to fit perceived realities. I was shocked by the lack of guilt that actually presented itself. There was no doting, as that takes too much time. I learnt the art of waiting. Of how to put my feelings on hold, and to screw over my needs.
Before we were anything I remember telling him that I DO NOT play second fiddle. By the end of that night I was naked in his bed.
And since that night, the attached men in their so many forms have come and gone through my life. Many of them have tried to get in there, to no avail. But just their attempts have worn me down. Have made me wonder why they looked at me and thought they stood a chance. While some have so easily succeeded.
The funny thing being that guilt still steered so clear.
I guess it’s like they say with drugs. At first you’re just popping a pill once a month, and without blinking you’re doing it several time a day. Probably why I have always been wise enough to make myself evade drugs.
I remember for a time, I used to listen to Nina Simone’s The Other Woman a few times throughout my workday. It made me feel as shite as it made me feel not so alone.
But now, I feel like I am back to my original stance of “No More”. Of “Not A Chance”. Of it all being about me. I ain’t even letting you flirt around these parts, darling. Because I do deserve better. Because I deserve the lips of a faithful man. The shag of a man whose life, if even just for a few months, is filled up just on me. My giggles and secret smiles to not take place when he is probably indulging his No. 1 Lady. And that I know I can phone or sms at any time day or night, not just when I think is safe.
I no longer cower back, thinking there is something wrong with demanding the spotlight. If just from the attention of one person.
I still love him and hold him so dearly in my mind and heart. I still love to occasionally see him and catch up over a bottle of wine for sundowners. But I think I have finally let go of being “in love” with him. And started to love myself again.
Otherwise, this weekend was good. I was happy. Not stupidly 24/7 ecstatic. Just on great terms with Life. I really enjoyed that. I’ve missed that.