There is a song out now by Chris Knight that has been on my mind all day, mostly because it is such a perfect example of how we sabotage ourselves and our relationships. The song starts out:
“There ought to be a town somewhere named for how I feel – yeah, I could be the major down there and say ‘welcome to sorryville.’ It wouldn’t be on a map nowhere, you might say it don’t exist, but if you make enough wrong turns it’d be hard to miss.”
He acknowledges that he knows he is in a sorry state, and that he accepts that he made some wrong turns to get here.
“There ought to be a bridge somewhere they could dedicate to me. I’d probably come to the ceremony with a can of gasoline, walk over to the other side and there I’d light a match – and sit and stare through the smoke and flames, wondering how I’m ever gonna get back.”
Here he admits that, even given a real good thing, he is likely to sabotage it. In fact, he knows it’s a good thing and plots out ways to destroy it before he ever leaves the house. He is even willing to destroy it knowing that he really needs it in his life, regardless of the pain it might cause himself or others.
“Ought to be a sideshow for freaks like me. Yeah, I could be the star of the show with my name on the marquee. In a room with a big red button that says ‘danger, do not touch’ and twice a day I’d mash it down and you could watch me self destruct.”
“Why do I do the things I do? Was I born this way or am I a self-made fool? I shoot the lights and curse the dark. I need your love but I break your heart. And I know the words that’ll bring you back but I don’t say nothing as I watch you pack. I had to work to be the jerk I’ve come to be. It ain’t easy being me.”
For most of my life, I’ve been famous for sabotaging my relationships. Sometimes I’m not clear on why I do it but I do – even to the relationships that I think have possibilities (a rarity), I will do things I know the other person doesn’t like. This confession isn’t at all an admission that I’m sorry for my actions – I firmly and defiantly sing Elvis Presley’s version of My Way. I just find it curious that I do this and that I can relate so much to this song.
No doubt an psychologist would lament that it is a result of my childhood – that it has scarred me so much that I’m afraid of commitment. I often remember believing that no one in my family was ever happy. Why should I put myself through the miserably unhappy prospect of marriage? Better to love em and leave em.
That worked out great until one of the men I was trying to leave started to stalk me and my son. I had broken up with him and it angered him greatly – not because he loved me but because I broke up with him. I found out later that he had battery charges against him for striking his wife.
Had it only involved me I might have blown him off but when he started scaring my son it became very personal. Like a lion or bear, I am going to defend my cub no matter what the personal cost or who I have to hurt.
After that my sabotaging became more discreet. If I knew the guy loved something like gardening, cooking, or certain sports – I’d become critical about those things. If he wanted marriage, I’d be totally against it and if he didn’t then I would say I did. You would think it would be easy getting rid of a guy by employing these tactics but some guys were persistent as mosquitoes on a hot summer day. In that event, I had to pull out the big guns – no sex, being late for events or special dinners, getting on them to lose weight or about their style of clothing, etc., until they’d give up. The last one cried.
Quite frankly, I get bored and want my precious freedom. Sex becomes predictable and they become humdrum – and I find that so wearisome. I realize I can’t expect romance all the time but when a man decides a nice afternoon date is watching tv and taking a nap on the couch is acceptable weekend after weekend, then they are very mistaken. Also, when they think its alright to pass gas in my presence and then make a joke about it…again, they are wrong. Just because they think the “have” me, doesn’t make it so. I’ll never be one to accept a boring, tedious life with a man who thinks farting in rhythm with whatever song is on the radio is not only cute but also endearing.
Of course, it has been said by a couple departing men as they kick my front door in defeat that I don’t know how to love and/or I’m an ice queen who never really lets anyone fully into my life – to which I maturely reply “wha, wha, pooh, pooh.”
Obviously I let them in only as much as each warrants. A jerk I only want to sleep with isn’t going to get my address or phone number. A guy who isn’t good with kids would never be introduced to my son. A guy who was sweet, caring and family orientated might get the privilege of meeting my family. A man who is sweet, caring, family orientated, fun, spontaneous, loves the outdoors, doesn’t smoke, is entertaining with a good sense of humor, must love dogs, and of course, be good in the sack might get full disclosure. Sadly, I don’t think that guy exists. If he does then I’ve yet to meet him and whose to say if I did that I’d have qualities he’s looking for in a date?
Let me explain – I don’t cook worth a damn (burnt toast and pizza are pretty common in my house), hate domestic chores (do laundry when I run out of underwear), love scary movies, get cranky when I’m tired, get bored easily but usually can entertain myself, must – I repeat – must get my alone time, hate feeling coddled or suffocated, hate being grilled about where I’ve been (I’ve never cheated on a boyfriend my entire life), and often will want to do anything but hang out watching TV on a sunny afternoon.
I love walking in th e rain, like having sex in unusual places, love the outdoors, love my family, love children and dogs, hate to ‘camp’ if it means peeing in the bushes, and am fiercely loyal until betrayed, and am a sap for wine and any flower other then roses.
Ok, what was my point? I don’t know…guess it was that, as the song says, “I’ve had to work to be the jerk I’ve come to be. It ain’t easy being me.”
