Tag Archives: men
First of all, that I’m laying in bed, with my laptop ( love), I’m doing my best here to write and my kitten keeps jumping at my hand on my keyboard. One scratch. Two scratches. Ten scratches. In a couple of seconds, my hand became the reflection of Mau’s playfulness.
Second of all, I’ve been a weird child and teenager…when I was one. I’ve always had the impression that I was weird and antisocial, invisible…
As a child, boys kind of ignored me, and when they didn’t ignore me, they just chose some other friend of mine over me.
As a teenager, I didn’t know many boys, although I thought I did, and, bear with me, please, I’ll get to the point, very soon.
I’ve known some boys and I’ve been friends with them. I’ve always enjoyed more the company of boys.
And here I am, 23 and in a happy relationship with a man and a cat, I’ve known very well what I wanted, and thought this relationship over so many times, before moving in with E. and having a kitty. And I still believe I’ve made the right choice.
Yes, happy relationship, but to be truthful I’m still not satisfied with some aspects. A lot. Let’s just say enough. Some. Many. The lack of sweet. The stupid jokes when I’m not amused at all. When I’m serious and trying to resolve our issues and he’s laughing at me.
And here I am, 23 and with a new job, in a medium with 70-30 boys… Men.
And they talk with me. They even joke. They smile at me sometimes, and ask me things. One of them told me he likes me. Well, as a friend. But “if you weren’t a smoker, you would be the perfect girl for me”, and of course, that scene in front of the elevators. Oh, you want to know the story?
Ok, so, we were both in a 15 minute break and were waiting for an elevator to come to take us downstairs. There are two elevators, you press the button with the direction of going you have (up or down), and see which comes first.
So he said “which do you think comes first?” , and I said “well, this one”, which meant the one right. And he said the one in left. And then he made a joke “what happens if mine comes first and you lose?”, I said I don’t know… He said “there’ll be something between us”. I laughed. Uncomfortably. Then he asked “and what happens if yours come first?” and I made a really ‘good’ joke, like “I’ll kick you somewhere …nice”
And then his elevator came and made a really uncomfortable situation, even more uncomfortable, as my eyes were attracted to the floor, maybe it was gravity… No. Anyway, that was it.
The thing is, I’m enjoying this. It’s nice to be given some attention.
But I am scared, too. I’m in a relationship of almost 2 years, and no relationship of mine was this long before. One of them even finished close to 2 years, in me cheating on A. with G…
But it’s nice the same situation. Everything is so…routine, still. And I’m trying to open E.’s eyes, but he… laughs at me.
Oh, well. I’ll rather not go there.
After all, I’m not the giving up type.
The most handsome man is the man you love.
She has a blog in Romanian, and some people shared her link on Facebook. And she’s naive. Well. Oh, well. She inspired me, at least. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I don’t write here for “fame” or likes on Facebook, but to be honest, when you have a little ego and you know you deserve more… Or you think you deserve more.
Basically, she was describing how a handsome, beautiful man would look like. How the most handsome man doesn’t have long eyelashes and doesn’t necessarily have a great body (…whatever that means), he doesn’t have blue eyes, but, BUUUT, what it matters is how he touches you with a smile, a look.
Oh, I’m in a foul mood to translate more, it’s late and I’m tired. But in her opinion, the most handsome man KNOWS when to pick up his woman (you know, if she’s down), and when to “throw her in the skies”*….
Before the conclusion, she wrote, and this I will translate, so I can make my point later in this post :
“The most beautiful man does not curse, does not spit, does not hurt, does not raise his hand to the woman when claims to love her (here she meant does not hit her) , does not blame anybody else when wrong, does not cheat and keeps the silence”.
About this, I would like to say… Wake up, this is the real world. Men and women make mistakes, men and women regret, men spit, women spit, I sometimes scream and I sometimes curse, mostly when I hit my little toe …auch!
This is not a fairy tale. You won’t find some prince charming, and let’s say you will… he won’t be an angel. If he was, you would be bored ….
And this idolization of men… Does she have the impression that men don’t… you know, go to the bathroom? Stink sometimes? Have mucus? And so on?
We’re people. We’re almost the same.
Her conclusion: “He is the most handsome man because because he doesn’t need too much to be the most handsome man”.
My conclusion : You want him to not curse, not hit, not cheat, give flowers, hold hands, pick you up, throw you in the skies, be your best friend, not run and not hide, be loving, be calm, respect you, talk much but know when to shut up, make you laugh, be modest but ambitious, love life but not risk it, be calm but have a gram of craziness.
OK, see…that’s too many. You ask for too much.
The perfect, the most handsome man is the man YOU love.
I know this now, I’ve lived with E. for 10 months. And apart from throwing me in the skies, which OH MY GOD, he doesn’t do all the time, and that bit about risking his life, he is fucking perfect! (note that curse word, it was intentional. I’m sooo ugly)
Well, in her vision. Because in my opinion even ugliness can make a person beautiful. Even defects can make a person gorgeous. And the mistakes…that’s what makes people unique.
As I was saying, 10 months of living with him, I’ve seen him unshaved, I’ve smelled his breath in the morning, I know it doesn’t smell like roses, and I’ve been unfortunate enough to must go in the bathroom after he was there… And he almost always eats the last piece of something I want!
And after all these, I can say I love him more. He’s mine, and I’m his.
The most handsome man is the man you love…
I’m proud to be in my longest and most serious relationship ever,
Happy Anniversary E.! 1 year and 10 months!
I couldn’t have done it without you! (Really!)
(OH, and sorry for typing so close to your head, hope you can sleep)
*At first I wrote “throw her up”….and I chuckled. Hihi.
A month ago, my sister started reading a book and she was quite devastated when she finished it. It was The Paris Wife, a book about Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley.
I started reading it too, and so far it is great, but I’m expecting to be overwhelmed by feelings, like my sister, when closer to the end. It’s not a happy story. And some time ago, I’ve started rejecting anything that wasn’t happy. I don’t watch dramas anymore, I don’t read sad books, and so and so. But anyway.
Hemingway. I’m ashamed, but I haven’t read anything by him, I think. I remember I started For Whom the Bell Tolls, but I guess it was too hard for me, back then, and now I would prefer to read it in English, and I don’t find it. Ah.
Today is sunny.
Have a beautiful day! (if you want to, of course!)
August 10, 2013 Reality is always better than the dream, but why do we always chase after the dream?
I forgot all about him.
To rewind the action until the time when E. wasn’t yet in my life, even then, I did my best to forget about G., and it was a hard and unnatural thing to do. Forced.I had tried my best to forget about him because I realized he would never see me the way I used to see him.
The time spent with him was the most exciting in my life, but… that was not enough. I was a girl wanting to be loved, not just had fun with. And, when we were in a jazzy pub, filled with oldies feeling, I tried to ask him why wouldn’t we be…together. I couldn’t talk about US, so I asked in general, I think, about him and having girlfriends. But I am sure sure sure that he understood my subtlety. Instead he said he couldn’t think about love, right then, he had other things on his mind…
So I kept my mouth shut.
And 2 months later he got engaged to a charming woman, two times my size and 1,5 his. I’m mean now.
I met E., moved together, and 20 months later we’re still together. We even have a kitty. And I know I’m happy with him, but… it’s a mild happiness, less passionate than the days with G. Which is normal after all. I spend all my days with E., I spent some days with G. And I like to spend my free time with all the letters of the alphabet, tied down in a little book.
And I dreamed of him last night. Which reminded me of him in a hurting way. I dreamed I cheated on E. with him. It was so good, and so sad. So hurting but so happy. All these old wounds started hurting again, as I searched for his FB profile. Looked at his photos and smiled. With his fiancee. With his parents. Having fun. Smelling a rose.
And I’m happy with E. I know I made the right choice. I wonder why doesn’t my subconscious know that. …
It was a dream, and reality is always better than the dream :)
Sometimes I look at him and feel blessed. I look around and, like awaken from a dream, I realize how much we’ve done together. How much we’ve accomplished, how many steps in the right direction we took without even thinking very much about it…
Step by step…
He was never what I wanted.
But he’s everything I need from a man.
In a moment when I lost all hope that I could even find an eligible man, I found him. He seemed ineligible. He seemed ugly, and stupid, and took my breath away. Like in a fairy tale, a princess falling in love. Not with the prince, but with the beast, or with the hunchback.
But he wasn’t those, like I wasn’t a princess. And this was not and still is not a fairy tale.
We live together, I tell myself, waking up. Sometimes this still comes as a shock, even after 8 months and a half.
And how good it is. How happy am I to remember that he’s soon coming home. And how protected I feel when he’s around me.
He was never what I wanted.
But somehow the universe gives you exactly what you need.
He doesn’t dress very nice. But his food is excellent. He doesn’t listen to fancy music. But he always helps me clean our home when he’s home. He takes the garbage out. He sometimes washes the dishes. He didn’t read philosophy, he didn’t read anything at all (ok, very little), but when engaged in a conversation he always surprises me with his opinions, in a good way. He doesn’t have G’s charm, but he makes me laugh. We don’t go out much, I don’t get dressed nicely to go out with him very often. But even being with him at home and watching some series makes me the happiest!
Although he was never what I wanted.
He is what I needed all that time…
I believe in love. That kind of love that sweeps you off your feet, that sends your head into the clouds and makes your knees go weak. I believe in many loves. I believe.
I just finished a book I started yesterday. With it in mind, I started thinking of how many times I suffered from oh, how many loves. And how every time I managed to get well. Like a drug which is not in your system anymore, you realize you’re better off without it, anyway.
How many times people cry and suffer after love. And I thought of E. Would I suffer if he was to tell me “Don’t return. Be gone. I don’t need you anymore, and you don’t need me anymore”. Oh, but how I need him…
And weeks would pass with him in my mind and with him in my heart. My veins would carry my blood, my blood would go to my heart and try to get it drunk. Because everything is better when you are drunk. Pardon me. Everything SEEMS better when you are drunk. It’s merely an illusion.
But after a time, I know, I really know that I would get well. How? Repetition.
A child hits the table, with his head and is hurt. He cries. One time.
The same child hits the table with his head and is hurt and he cries. Second.
But the child learns this way, that hitting his head on the table will hurt him and will make him cry, and he learns he should by all means avoid doing that.
And so, how can we not learn? I suffered so many times after so many loves… it passed. This love too, will pass eventually.
I have friends who still suffer after loves, and I see them as stubborn children, silly children who don’t want to learn. Children who think they’re above the average, maybe.
Girls who think their love was the best love ever. But anybody’s love is the best ever. Was the best ever.
Love is the best.
And the best love, is the present one. The one that stays.
My actual one is the best I ever had. I’m waiting for my man, so that I can be his woman. So that I can put my face on his arm and smell him, and even though he comes home from work and he doesn’t smell like lilies, he is after all, the best man I ever had.
Everything managed to piss me off, I wasn’t satisfied with anything: the food, I didn’t like very much, the food was heated but quite cold, my dear boyfriend was in pajamas at 6.30 pm.
What a disappointment. And how picky was I. But I was trying to calm down.
So what if the spinach was cold, and the soup was cold, and I don’t like eating cold food?
We drank a beer together.
I went to the bathroom and yelled to him …something about marriage, but I had to have been quite drunk, since I don’t remember it well. He said he never wants to get married. I said I want to, someday. And then he said he wants it someday, too.
Men. Who understands them?
We drank another beer together.