She has, as have millions of women before her, suffered from loneliness, to the point which any sort of attention from a man would suffice, even if it was a once in a month text that said: ‘You are so lost’. From a man who was probably just horny and drunk and to which she was likely to reply ‘It is you who is lost’ or a similarly mundane response in the hope of starting a stimulating, romantically charged conversation.
There is, of course, the occasional date that tells her he has ‘Deep feelings for her which confuses him’ and her long-time plutonic friend who has declared his ‘Boyfriend intentions’ but with whom she just cannot get it on.
This is her dilemma – the certain knowledge that there is no such thing as Mr. Right and the deep appreciation of the fact that beautiful feelings for another are nurtured, grown, and not born at first sight.
Now, this may have sounded like a very rational statement, from an equally rational person (which she was) but the heart wants what the heart wants and she finds that she goes into supposed relationships with an incessant and irrational need to fall deeply in love and live happily ever after. Like Cinderella. A black Cinderella. A Kenyan. Instead of a carriage? A Mercedes.
This could have been the price she was paying for reading romance novels at an early age, of losing herself into the strong arms of the heroes and becoming the heroine whose body is worshipped. It was a price she was willing to pay because she wanted to feel love that would frighten her, and leave her desperate and in awe. Like she imagined she would be in the precense of God.
This is why she is sitting in her comfortable chair (Everyone who came to her house said she had the most comfortable sofa sets) with her cell phone in her hands – there is such a man in her life. The romantic (if there is any) in you may want to sit up and read further, and possibly pat her virtually on the back for the romantic persistence and eventual triumph. Not until you hear that this is not the guy that makes her toes tingle and leaves her desperately wanting and needing him more whenever he is away from her. This guy is the type that tells her he’s ‘Confused about the deep feelings he has for her and would like to take it slow’.
Her favourite relationship guru Greg Brenhart of the infamous book “He’s Just Not That into You” would definitely be proud of her if she concluded that this man was just not that into her and stopped wasting her pretty. Greg would also recommend that she delete her pseudo-boyfriend’s number from her cell phone immediately-however; Greg has not considered the fact that she memorized the number by date three! Greg also swears that no man is ever “confused” about anything. She is armed with these words of wisdom so she should be okay.
Her imaginary boyfriend has not called her in a month. Their last conversation ended with Let’s talk soon. She should have asked for his definition of “soon” but she did not want to sound needy. She should end the relationship. She can’t.
‘We are both pretenders. I pretend to be okay with the way you are treating me and you pretend that there is nothing wrong with the way you are treating me.’
It is the curses of women like her. To always give the man the benefit of the doubt. She is built to endure all the heartache and bullshit that the man dishes out as long as he keeps her hopes up that he might actually give a damn about her. That is why her imaginary boyfriend will stay for three months without calling but on the day that he calls, she will engage all our mental and body strengths in trying not to pick up on the first ring!
She still does not have words to tell her pseudo–boyfriend-that she wants to break it off. This is the rational thing to do. But how does she define “it”?”It” certainly was not a relationship. He had six whole months where she blessed him with her presence in his life without his ever acknowledging that there was anything going on between them except for a feeble: ‘I am so confused’ so she cannot very well start with the classic ‘It is not you, it is me’.She wants to call it quits because she knows she deserves better, and she spends thirty minutes trying to think of dignified exit words. She engages all her linguistic energies and settles for:
‘We are both pretenders. I pretend to be okay with the way you are treating me and you pretend that there is nothing wrong with the way you are treating me.’
She adds ellipses in the text for dramatic effect and to signify that they have unfinished business. She hits the send button with a smug little smile .Her satisfaction turns into desperation in the few hours that he takes to reply, declaring he had no idea what she was talking about. In his text, he says:
‘Could we just stop this nonsense? Why are you getting emotional over nothing?’
Editors Note: Read Part 2
You might also like:
When I was ten years old, I wanted to be an air hostess after reading Cynthia Hunter’s ‘Anna the Air Hostess’. A few months later, I read her book ‘Pamela the Probation Officer’ and experienced a burning desire to become a probation officer. Years later, I realized that what I had fallen in love with was reading and writing, not the professions. Writing, then, is not what I do. It is who I am. Check out my blog literarychronicles.wordpress.com.