Monogomy?

Four months; damn. Four months. It had been four months and he was the only man I had been dating. I have often wondered what makes us stay with a particular man. Is the fact that we are trying to figure them out? Waiting for something about them to wow us? They’re good in bed? Sexy? Smart? Fit the bill? After dating for four months I barely knew anything about Stallion. I knew he was Italian, had a sexy body, yet ate like an animal; the sex was amazing, and the sphinx was easier to figure out than him. But I have caught the disease of monogamy. It’s interesting that this viral disease is what keeps some people alive while it is a deadly concept for others.

I tried my best to make it work. I sacrificed weekends with family, friends, and looming deadlines. In the end it wasn’t there. I walked away having learned nothing. It was one of those rare relationships where everything was right, but it somehow lacked passion. As women, we have been taught to seem like the weaker of the sexes, to have this “I can’t live without you” notion in order to make a boy feel like a man. But why can’t we just get the man and skip the act? With every possible relationship we tend to adjust ourselves and pickup on particular habits in order to become more connected with our significant other, but what happens when you are the only one doing that?

I’ve been trying to get Stallion on the phone but our relationship has taken the dreadful road down text messaging lane. He is avoiding the talk, the fact that we are not working out. But what is the point of prolonging something that is hurting the both of us. At the end of the day I can’t believe I’ve had another failed relationship. I couldn’t help but wonder, why is it even when you play your cards right you end up loosing? Or are we just playing the wrong game? I felt like I was ten years old again hoping anxiously I wasn’t picked last for kickball during recess.

“I have nothing to bring to the table” was his answer. I couldn’t believe it; I was being punished for being successful and independent. As young women we are introduced to all these discourses of what makes one desirable, attainable, and noteworthy. Many of these notions tend to contradict each other. You need to be a virgin when married but able to satisfy your significant other. You need to be able to cook, clean, pop out babies, yet somehow manage to establish a successful career and look good doing it. Even when we do accomplish most of these requirements, we find ourselves in the situation where the man in our life feels intimidated. The tragedy in it all is when a woman in her 20’s has an insight to herself she is perceived as being ‘too much’ or just a hot challenge.

In order to validate leaving Stallion I agreed to meet up with Bond for a friendly dinner. I had somehow managed to avoid seeing him for past four months in order to prevent any temptations, but what made this possible was the fact that he had been away in London working on a case. We meet at the corner of “These Four Inch Miu Miu Shoes Are Killing Me” and “Damn I Forgot How Handsome He Is.” It had been so long since I had worn heels that I almost lost my balance when I saw him; I had forgotten how dashing he looked in his crisp Hugo Boss suits and perfectly coiffed hair. My dates with Stallion were Sunday’s at Barney’s Beanery watching the game or Thursday nights staying in with takeout.

As I sat there watching Bond through my wine glaze, I realized that I needed him in my life. He pushed me to beyond my capabilities and he believed in me. “So, I have to keep things PG?” I started to laugh, as I knew that was only going to last for five minutes. As we walked out of the restaurant he gave a kiss on the cheek and wished me a good night. He knew he was going home alone. As I turned away and headed home I realized that for the first time in my life I didn’t feel alone. I knew I was going to be okay, that I really don’t need a man in my life. I tried to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible because I knew that when I walked into my empty apartment and crawled into bed, for a split second I was going to wish I had someone to keep me warm during these rare cold winter nights in LA.
Posted by Armenian Chronicles at 1:22 PM 0 comments
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 28, 2009