Monday, August 25, 2008

There is something strange about not loving your boyfriend.

He throws those words around with a sincerity that fills with with a a sick alone feeling. I don't believe that he does, no matter how much his sincere blue eyes really want to believe it. Those "I love you" words. What do those words mean anyway, if you can throw them at something after two weeks of knowing it; just splashing emotions around like an insensitive Jackson Pollock.

His words hit me with a blunt force-it's like being hit with a wiffle-ball bat by a first-grader-how are you supposed to react. Anger? Humor? Does that kid even know what he's doing? It's harmless, yet somehow offensive. I seem to just ignore the comments now-yet every once in a while I'll suddenly feel the guilt that comes with that lack of reciprocation. The words choke on the way out and my who body seems a bit revolted at the lie of it all. "I love you", I whisper. He gets this great look of relief.

I am desperate not to lie. I do love him, as an organism. I love him as a potential father of my children-or someone else's. I love him as a person. I don't love him as a lover.

It seems that there was a time when I did though. Somewhere is the recesses of my mind when I recall dreaming of his arms and his hands and his lips and his jaw. I remember twangs of jealousy as he talked with other girls and desperately wanting to kiss him.

I think it's just about image. No really. Image.

Here's the thing. I spend a long time trying desperately to look good for him. I care about my makeup, my hair, the way I smell and walk and behave. I go out of my way to please him and I do it because I enjoy pleasing him. Though my feminist tendencies hate the idea-I just want to hear from him that I'm pretty; that he still finds me attractive and admirable. I have worked my entire life on being someone that someone else would want to be with. Why can so many men not do the same.

It is like a slap in the face, how he doesn't care how he dresses for me. How he doesn't care how he grooms for me, or walks for me or behaves for my benefit. It seems almost hateful or ,at the very leas,t disrespectful. Like being hit with a wiffleball bat by a first-grader, if I assume it wasn't out of malice, I must assume it is out of childishness or ignorance.

I either lash out with disdain or desperately try to fix.

I'm not being fair to him, he is a very attractive man. Why doesn't he do the small things that show that he cares?