An unexpected insight came up in a therapy session a few weeks back. I was talking about the attention that naturally comes with performing and showcasing my essence and vulnerability on a stage. People take notice, approach you to talk about your set – buy you a drink, even. Mostly guys.
I said to my counsellor that in that moment, when a guy is giving me his undivided attention and relating to me as if I’m interesting – in that moment I feel as if I’m enough. I started to tear up, saying: “I don’t know why I’m getting emotional”. It’s just that I rarely feel like that. It means the world to me when someone wants to engage with me.
A few weeks ago, at an open mic, I had what I thought was some form of connection with this guy. He shared a joint with me outside, twice, and actually gave me what was left of his weed because he wanted to be sharp for work that week. When we went back inside, he bought me a cranberry juice without asking me – he noticed what I was drinking. I thought that was such a sweet gesture – I was really touched.
I gave him my number. The weeks passed and no contact.
I saw him again this week at the open mic. A couple of hours passed and he hadn’t approached me. Whether it was intentional or not, the whole “hard to get” thing is an absolute bitch. After my set, I went over to speak to him and felt weak to do so. I felt like a little kid looking for validation. He complimented me on my set – I think he might’ve actually used the word fabulous or something.
There had been a mixup with my number. When I initially gave it to him a few weeks ago, I accidentally gave him the wrong one, so I corrected it. Apparently this one also didn’t work, but when I checked – it was right. So God knows what happened – I think there’s something wrong with his phone.
There was something different about this time that I saw him. Things didn’t necessarily flow the way they did before. When he asked me if I wanted to come out to smoke with him, I complied with embarrassing ease. When I followed him out, I felt slightly dissociated. I looked to the orange streetlights and the way they reflected on the cobbled alley and felt something in the pit of my stomach.
Something about not wanting to be so pliable.
He has a lot to say for himself. Talking about concepts and things which interest him comes easily. He’s interested in child psychology, which also piques my interest. So a conversation along these lines should be easy. But it’s not. I don’t know what it is but when I’m around him, I feel like I have to force myself to sound interesting.
This is crazy. I write songs. I produce. I write a blog and never seem to run out of ideas for it. I have an interesting job. But around him, I feel like the most boring person in the world. He brings out this shy, quiet, unsure person in me. A shadow of myself. A person that I rarely am around guys.
And you know what? I stayed later than I wanted to that night in order to get the same bus home as him. Even though, in actuality, the exchanges we were having didn’t really make me feel all that good about myself. If anything, I started to feel a little insecure that night.
And on the bus home, it was the same. Him having tons of interesting things to say – me listening almost in awe at his insights. Then he said: “What about you?” “What about me?” I replied. I couldn’t do that long monologue thing he was doing. I felt like all of a sudden I was under a spotlight and hadn’t prepared anything. I ended up talking about my hopes and dreams. Fucking hell, I ended up talking about my Dad. Maybe if he saw my vulnerability, he’d be more interested in me – even if only from a psychological point of view. Guys love a broken doll.
Towards the end of the bus journey, I got anxious about us being unable to have contact and said I’d check the number I gave him. What a loser. Honestly, I am NOT usually like this. It’s because he was so complacent and unbothered about everything, it stirred this chaos in my soul.
I wrote this song a few years ago about a crush that I had and this was one of the lines: “You’re so bored and complacent – I can’t look away”. It still rings true. And what is that appeal?? Why are so many of us drawn to those that leave us guessing? What is the appeal of following someone around like a dog and jumping when someone snaps their fingers? There’s certainly a sexual appeal to it, if you’re that way inclined; but you don’t want that bleeding into the rest of your life. Or at least, I don’t.
I think it probably goes back to: a) the fundamental law of wanting something more when you feel like you can’t have it; and b) the archetype of the emotionally unavailable father. My Dad was a weird mix of being overly affectionate and smothering whilst also having the cruel tendency to suddenly become cold and callous and habitually ignoring of me. Both of these feel like home to me.
I think that’s why so many of us are drawn to those with whom it probably won’t actually work out. Because it feels like home. Even if home was sometimes emotionally chaotic, difficult, lonely, isolating and volatile. It was still home.
The above post brilliantly illustrates and explains the returning of victims of abuse to patterns which feel familiar. As a disclaimer, I am in no way insinuating that this guy I was speaking to is abusive – I am exploring my own tendency to move towards situations which are not emotionally healthy or nurturing for me. The reality is that we’re probably not romantically compatible – that doesn’t make him a bad person. Me being drawn to someone who ultimately does not make me feel validated or secure is a sign of trying to repeat childhood traumatic relationships in order to heal from them. But here’s a positive I took from it.
The next day after that open mic when I was alone in my room, I had a realisation: “This is what I don’t want.” I don’t want to be left second guessing or unsure of myself. I don’t want to jump when someone snaps their fingers. I don’t want to chase that feeling, that high of validation, for me to come crashing down later when I realise it was not as authentic as I wanted it to be. I think this situation taught me to remember my worth. So here’s to that. 🥂
Below is another brilliant post which expands on what I’ve been talking about.
Thanks so much for reading.
– SMUT. ❤ xxxx