Thoughts about Relationships – September 1, 2016

look pretty

I tend to feel like this whenever a man “approaches” me on social media (like FaceBook).

When I was growing up, my interaction with boys was either a matter of being ignored, or  being insulted. There was this one boy in second grade that passed me a note where he called me things like “wide load,” “whale,” and other demeaning comments about my weight. I didn’t know how to react to it until I showed my Dad the note, and he exploded at the teacher. Throughout my grade school days, I would be teased and bullied for my looks and my “weirdness”. And I hated it.

Then when I was in junior college, my first boyfriend talked me into having sex with him. After he got what he wanted, he immediately started ogling other women. Thank goodness I was smart enough to insist on condom usage.

During my undergraduate and graduate college years, men were little more than classmates and instructors. There was no teasing, and I could focus on my studies. Happier times.

In my early to mid 30s, I was writing adult fanfiction. In the adult fanfiction chat room, I met a dear female friend, and a young man that would eventually become my ex-roommate. But I get ahead of myself.

He was having a hard time of it. Home life in Vermont was so intolerable that he was seriously considering suicide. Us gals got together and moved him to Arizona. It was okay for a few months until his stuff was stolen by the resident drug addict. Fearing he’d be thrown out on the street, I offered to take him in. I lived in a house in the country at the time, and I had plenty of room. He was reluctant, but he eventually packed up and was moved in with me.

We lived together through several moves over roughly 8 years. In 2006, he moved to Dallas to have access to more job opportunities. I soon followed him in December. During this time, he’d get a new girlfriend roughly every two years. Try and imagine being called “pretty,” “lovely,” or “beautiful” and the man in your life pursues some other woman instead. After eight years, it was no wonder my mind broke under the daily contradictions between words and actions.

He fled back to Vermont in 2013, taking his then girlfriend with him. He abandoned me, something he swore many a time he would never do. I’m just thankful I haven’t spoken with him for a couple of years.

Now we’re all caught up to more current circumstances. I spend a lot of time on FaceBook. And there have been occasions when a strange man sends me a friend request. I would accept, only to receive private messages consisting of, “Hi there pretty. Have my babies?”

The prospect is so terrifying that I run away instantly, blocking said male.

Call me old-fashioned, but I want to get to know a potential mate over a period of six months to a year. The process must be followed before discussion of having children can ensue. I’m not shacking up with another flattering psychopath, and I’m too cold for mushy lust crud.

Let’s just be friends. Than ks.


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