Mr Mike informed me last night he doesn’t wish to continue out long distance ‘thing’.
Apparently chatting ‘distracts’ him. I ‘distract’ him. And he needs more ‘personal space’ to work and get his life in order.
Chatting apps have ‘destroyed his life’, apparently.
Perhaps my first clue should have been the fact he would sometimes casually say ‘I’m off to see my psychotherapist’. But he was living in San Francisco; I assumed everyone had one there. They do, don’t they? I mean, they’re American.
When we first met a few months ago he seemed so strong, clever and stable. Yesterday as he babbled about his personal needs, I felt I was talking to a child. A demanding, spoiled child. Not the strong elegant man I first met.
Now over the past few months I have visited some very dark places, and it’s taught me not to scoff and depression and mental instability as I might once have. However, when it comes to relationships and the quest for love, I don’t deal in “maybes” and “perhapses”.
When I told him that, he accused me of trying to make this into a break up talk:
“This is starting to feel like a break-up because you’re making it so serious. It’s not a break-up because we were never in a relationship. We are just two guys who like each other and have chatted on occasion. Now you need me to tell you whether I want to get serious with you or not. We haven’t even had one date yet, so the question is ludicrous. But if you need an answer, then no. I am sorry. I would like to continue being your friend. Now I need to work.”
It may sound old and it may sound cliche. It may make me sound like a throwback. Worst of all, it may make me sound like my Father; but I need a man.
I need that person who will be there for me as I’m there for him. Who when the night gets dark and terrifying will pull me close and tell me it’s alright.
I’ve met enough spoiled boys to last me a lifetime. The worst of it was this one was in his 40’s.
But in a strange contrary way, I’m glad. Mr. Mike may have been clever, strong and successful, but he’s not what I want, because I don’t want a man who exists for me in text messages and Skype calls. I want him here in my arms. Not someone emotionally stunted who needs a psychotherapist, but a warm, loving,fundamentally flawed man.
The irony is, I think men actually become much more easily spoiled than women. I’ve met complete princesses, but I’ve met far more emotionally spoiled men. Mr. Will and Mr. Mike both; and with both I noticed the tantrums when they didn’t get their way. The rants and blame that it was ‘my fault’, or ‘my misinterpretation’.
Why? Because that’s what boys do. They blame. They excuse themselves. They embrace weakness.
Perhaps it’s being far away from home and the enforced need to be strong, even when I didn’t want to be. But I find I now have no time for weakness or self indulgence, particularly in men. Particularly in men who have romantic potential or expressed interest in me.
I’m tired of long distance, and I’m tired of emotionally stunted older men.
I want to find someone my own age. Mid twenties, professional and ready to embrace life the way I am. They don’t need to be rich and they don’t need to be built. They just need to be safe, steady and sweet. I’m tired of dramas; they may be the stuff of songs and ballads which explore life, but in reality they do nothing more than drain the life from you.
So I won’t settle. And a “maybe” won’t cut it. The next time I won’t fall until he mans up and makes that move to make me his. We deserve nothing less. Every one of us.
But I think there was one reason above all others why Mr. Mike and I would never fully comprehend one another – he didn’t understand my British sense of humour.
And that, frankly, is just unforgivable.