Firstly, my thanks to the guys at Switchback, you know who you are, for keeping me this side of a major depressive episode...
So, a few months ago, I posted a thread about how I'd go about getting a girlfriend, in so similar a vein as many other threads that have 'plagued' the Escapist's forums, and the advice given was... well, either mere words of comfort or borderline useless (no disrespect to any of those who posted). But, now, I think I know why they were that.
Backstory for those who don't know me or know of me: I've not had the nicest of personal lives with respect to my relationships with those of the opposite sex... nor have I had the worst, so if I come off as whiny, I apologise. The sum of my love life is two relationships that totalled about ten years between the ages of twelve and twenty-two inclusive. The first ended because she died, and the second ended because she tried so hard but couldn't recover from PTSD. And I was part of the reason she couldn't, despite all my efforts. I have been through more than my fair share of trauma without ever being allowed to properly deal with it for the sake of someone else, and if you think that's insufficient reason for me to be as emotionally frail as I present myself, then please either leave or just finish reading and don't post, I can do without the typical 'man-the-fuck-up-pep-talk' that I've seen numerous times around here.
I digress... I suppose I was lucky that I found two girls who loved me so much, never cheating or ever giving me reason to consider breaking up with them. But break up we did... if you call it 'breaking up'. So, for the past three years I've been single (barring one brief and somewhat fucked up relationship in which I acted like a jerk), alternately looking for a girlfriend and trying to convince myself that I'm happy by myself.
Don't get me wrong, I have little, if any, trouble talking to women provided I have a reason to, or sometimes, even randomly. But a trend I found over the last few weeks... when I find someone I like, and finally get round to asking them out, I demand such a high emotional investment from them that it irks them to say the least. Perhaps 'demand' is the wrong word, but it definitely is implicit. I betray all my anxieties in the hope that if they do say 'yes', they understand why they say it. And I realise far too late that I ask far too much and far too soon do I ask it. But I miss waking up next to someone, spending a day in comfortable silence and just doing stuff with somone for whom no questions need be asked.
After these last couple of years of 'playing the field' rather unsuccessfully, I have at last realised why: I fear loss. I ruin my own efforts at finding someone because what I do not have, I cannot lose. And I don't mean 'lose' as in, they'd run away with someone else. No, I mean it in the sense that I would lose them to a tragedy so severe that I'd pray for my sanity if I was still alive when the dust finally settles. This is part of the reason that I'm innately attracted to psychologically damaged women. 'Damaged goods FTW!' for all that is a tasteless exclamation, rather rings true for me. When a woman is sad, I know how to treat her, probably better than the vast majority of men in the world, but I haven't the faintest idea what to do when she's happy.
If you've read this far... what can I do?
So, a few months ago, I posted a thread about how I'd go about getting a girlfriend, in so similar a vein as many other threads that have 'plagued' the Escapist's forums, and the advice given was... well, either mere words of comfort or borderline useless (no disrespect to any of those who posted). But, now, I think I know why they were that.
Backstory for those who don't know me or know of me: I've not had the nicest of personal lives with respect to my relationships with those of the opposite sex... nor have I had the worst, so if I come off as whiny, I apologise. The sum of my love life is two relationships that totalled about ten years between the ages of twelve and twenty-two inclusive. The first ended because she died, and the second ended because she tried so hard but couldn't recover from PTSD. And I was part of the reason she couldn't, despite all my efforts. I have been through more than my fair share of trauma without ever being allowed to properly deal with it for the sake of someone else, and if you think that's insufficient reason for me to be as emotionally frail as I present myself, then please either leave or just finish reading and don't post, I can do without the typical 'man-the-fuck-up-pep-talk' that I've seen numerous times around here.
I digress... I suppose I was lucky that I found two girls who loved me so much, never cheating or ever giving me reason to consider breaking up with them. But break up we did... if you call it 'breaking up'. So, for the past three years I've been single (barring one brief and somewhat fucked up relationship in which I acted like a jerk), alternately looking for a girlfriend and trying to convince myself that I'm happy by myself.
Don't get me wrong, I have little, if any, trouble talking to women provided I have a reason to, or sometimes, even randomly. But a trend I found over the last few weeks... when I find someone I like, and finally get round to asking them out, I demand such a high emotional investment from them that it irks them to say the least. Perhaps 'demand' is the wrong word, but it definitely is implicit. I betray all my anxieties in the hope that if they do say 'yes', they understand why they say it. And I realise far too late that I ask far too much and far too soon do I ask it. But I miss waking up next to someone, spending a day in comfortable silence and just doing stuff with somone for whom no questions need be asked.
After these last couple of years of 'playing the field' rather unsuccessfully, I have at last realised why: I fear loss. I ruin my own efforts at finding someone because what I do not have, I cannot lose. And I don't mean 'lose' as in, they'd run away with someone else. No, I mean it in the sense that I would lose them to a tragedy so severe that I'd pray for my sanity if I was still alive when the dust finally settles. This is part of the reason that I'm innately attracted to psychologically damaged women. 'Damaged goods FTW!' for all that is a tasteless exclamation, rather rings true for me. When a woman is sad, I know how to treat her, probably better than the vast majority of men in the world, but I haven't the faintest idea what to do when she's happy.
If you've read this far... what can I do?