Examination of a realization
I came to terms with the fact, this evening, that I seem to have this sort of curse. In my head though, I call it a "thing" more than a curse, since the latter entails something much more dramatic... whereas what I mean here is merely a marked annoyance more than anything else. Though for the number of times it's happened, it might as well evolve into some sort of malediction.
In short, after a telling series of events which came to a head this evening , I've realized that the men I care most about in my life do NOT EVER take me seriously. Oh sure, they CARE about me.. but they never take me seriously. SERIOUSLY.
"Oh no," whine the hapless menfolk who might be reading, "please not another typical whining rant from a bitter bitty about how men are evil. Haven't we been castrated enough?!?" they cry in disheartened outrage. Well, indeed you have, fair males and worry not... what I say here is really not in bitterness at all. In fact it came to me more as an observation, and one that I assume could happen to anyone, with the roles reversed I'm sure. But let's look at the facts.
Exhibit 1: My dad: (OH NO, GET THE TISSUES, IT'S DADDY ISSUES!)
My dad loves me unconditionally, and while emotionally-retarded, has always tried very hard in his own way to support us growing up. He is a good dad.
But still: He NEVER talks about my career, has never shown a deliberate, un-mother prompted interest in my life or art... and really, has no real involvement in anything. He loves me as a daughter of course, but does not take me as a person seriously because he doesn't bother to get to know me too much, unless I take the initiative.
**I should mention that I do not resent my dad for any of this, though. But it has had its effects, despite my knowing full well that he did the best possible job of raising us that he knew how to.
Exhibit 2: Any boy I have ever loved:
Let's see...One left the continent without hesitation despite mentionning how I was his best friend ever. Another said I was "marriage material" but broke up as soon as the concept of love was even mentionned. The other did not believe that "doodling" would ever lead anywhere.
So my nurturing, affectionate, responsible, committed, artistic sides? HOGWASH AND POPPYCOCK!! (Yeah this whole post was an excuse to say POPPYCOCK!!!!)
Exhibit 3: Any boy I have ever crushed on:
Good enough to use as a practice-flirt, as an affection whore or as a source of witty repartie.... never good enough to date, apparently. Or again, TOO GOOD, even, I've been told. Despite boobs, heels, hotness and desperate attempts at femininity, IMMEDIATE FRIENDZONE.
Exhibit 4: Male superiors:
Either I am the "young'un" (I'm fucking 28, not 12), the little sister, or the stereotypical secretary that has no other passion in life but to type up your meeting notes, sir so obviously a promotion isn't necessary or even RELEVANT!!
I could go on.
And of course I realize that a large part of this is probably due to some flaw in my nature. I don't know what's causing it, really. But I'm sure it's not because I don't assert myself, because I do. Too much/intimidating? And maybe I lied. Maybe I am a little bit bitter. I wonder all the time what it is about me that makes people assume that I won't just pull out a blade and shank them (kidding, internet police, kidding) if they cross me.
But the worst thing is wondering whether this is a self-fullfilling vicious cycle. The men I care most about don't take me seriously, and I don't take the men who care most about me seriously either, because I'm busy getting over the men who don't take me seriously. And so forth.
Another worst thing is realizing that this is probably a giant, roundabout way of bitching about being constantly friendzoned, stemming from some problem with my inner child's relationship to my dad and other creepy, Freudian brain-fuck stuff like that.
Ah life, you contradicting little bitch.
Stop screwing with me.
That is all.