For a long time, I thought I wanted to be in a committed relationship with a good man.
Unfortunately, the men I dated were not good men. They were either emotionally unavailable, cheaters, mommy’s boys, narcissists, had a paralyzing fear of conflict, or in one case, all of the above.
My relationships were painful, confusing, and emotionally draining.
At some point I started to wonder: what the hell is the point of all this? The answer came back clear as day: there is no point. I was doing it just because I felt the need for a partner in my life, but I definitely didn’t feel the need to be treated that way.
Sure I could blame it all on men and it would be easy and validating to do so. But the truth is it wasn’t them. It was me. I was choosing the wrong guys. The cheaters and the immature.
Was it because I have this huge soft spot for jerks? No. Quite the opposite. Openly jerky men are a huge turn-off for me and for a lot of women I know.
It was because they were the ones who would treat me the best in the beginning. Sadly, only the beginning.
How was I supposed to know from the start that they would cheat on me though? Or that they were emotionally unavailable when all they did was treat me like a precious jewel, make me laugh, and make me feel valued and cherished?
How was I supposed to know that the most amazing guys would turn into the biggest jerks? The answer is in the question: ‘the most amazing guys’.
People who seem too good to be true are usually just that: too good to be true.
I thought I wanted to be with a man. But what I wanted was to be with a perfect man.
With a supernaturally charming and awesome man who would treat me like a queen, I’d treat him like a king, and we’d be having hot sex all day long and not worry about anything even remotely reality-related.
Sadly, that man is a fantasy. And not just my own. A lot of women dream of him.
The difference between me and other women is that some of them reached a level of maturity where they accept men for who they really are. But I didn’t. I wanted a fantasy more than I wanted a man.
In time I came to realize that kind of man doesn’t exist in real life. And no, it’s not just because I met all the wrong men or because all men are wrong.
It’s because I don’t accept reality the way it is. And I don’t accept men the way they are: human, flawed, real, and unsuited for escaping reality.
So I went for the ones who would offer me an enhanced world from the start.
A reality that they couldn’t even keep up with because while it’s easy to offer fantasy for a few hours a week, it’s incredibly difficult to keep that up for months or even years on end.
Doing it for a lifetime would be just plain impossible.
I was reminded of this when I saw this funny article about a man who declared that he was only interested in dating beautiful women even if that means he was going to be single for the rest of his life.
And you know what? I get it, although most of the people in the comments were either offended or amused by his audacity. The man has a certain specific way he wants his life to be and it’s either that or nothing at all.
The funny part was that he was as ugly as the night is dark and all the comments were pointing it out, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve a dream of his own.
Sometimes that dream and the fantasy can be so strong that it can sweep you off your feet in just a few hours.
Here’s a real story so you know exactly what I’m talking about.
A few years ago, as I was vacationing with some friends in Tuscany, I met a man in the most incredible way possible.
We were just visiting Siena, a quaint little town where time seems to have stood still. Sienna has cobblestone streets, huge stone houses and it’s all been preserved to look like medieval times.
And although I’m a huge fan of modern times, Sienna had my heart from moment one.
It was already night time and we were still walking the charming streets, in love with Italian life and slightly drunk from the many Aperol spritzes we had that afternoon.
As we were walking, talking, and laughing I kept seeing this incredibly charming blond man who was roaming the streets just like we were.
I don’t know if it was the drinks, the Italian night, or just my passion for blond men, but I felt love-struck. Passion struck. Blond struck.
We kept seeing him everywhere, walking, talking to a passerby, or in this small painted ceramics shop we entered. He was everywhere and I was dreaming of a magic moment when he would approach me and tell me he noticed me too.
And, lord and behold, that’s exactly what happened.
And if you tell me you wouldn’t also fall in love right then and there, you must be made of stone, please tell me your secret.
As we decided to call it a night and head back to our hotel, I saw him one more time in the street and smiled as I passed him by, happy to have the beautiful memory of that night with him in my mind.
One minute later he was chasing me down the street.
‘Excuse me, excuse me!’
I stopped. He stopped right in front of me, panting. I couldn’t believe my eyes, my heart was racing and I thought it must be some sort of prank that my friends were pulling on me.
‘Hi, I’m sorry to bother you,’ he said, ‘but I kept seeing you all day today and…’
‘I kept seeing you too!’
‘Oh, I thought you didn’t notice me, because you didn’t even look at me, but then when you smiled just now I thought I’d just…’
‘I noticed you,’ I said with a happy smile.
‘I’m… just… I hope this doesn’t come off as weird, but you, you’re just… you look like the ideal woman. I couldn’t just let you go without telling you that.’
I froze. He looked like the ideal man to me too. He was blond, fit, and had a certain shy and soft demeanor about himself. I was melting.
‘Wow… thank you!’
‘Is there any way I can get to know you better?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Come with us.’
And he did. We spent the rest of the trip living it up, in love with life and each other, wandering the streets of Rome, frolicking on warm beaches, and kissing in the soft Italian sunset.
He was a Swedish programmer on a solo trip to Italy to get away from it all. He was at a crossroads in his life and was trying to decide which way to go next.
By the end of the trip, he decided he would come home with me. He did. He could work from anywhere and he was crazy in love with me, so why not? He was free to do anything.
Except that he wasn’t.
One month of bliss later, I received a photo on Facebook: it was of him with his wife and baby daughter. She tracked him down and wanted him back.
When I confronted him, he lied every step of the way and when I packed his bag and force-shipped him back to Stockholm he said he was getting a divorce and coming back whether I wanted him or not.
That was the last time I heard from him.
It wasn’t the first (or last) love story that started as magic and ended as crap. It happened to me and a lot of other women.
So we eventually decided to give up on men and love. More and more women are going that way. And so are men.
Slowly and surely we’re all starting to wonder what the hell this is all for. And those of us who decide to opt out don’t get a good answer.
Apparently, we’re all starting to figure out that our well-being doesn’t depend on a love interest. And while love is nice to have, the baggage that comes with it is not.
The more self-sufficient we are, the less willing we are to pay the price of love.
Should we, though?
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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