ya
“What did he have that you didn’t? Well, for starters he didn’t like me nearly as much as you do. He didn’t laugh at my jokes, and he didn’t listen to my stories. He thought he was pretty funny, but he was just okay. He had a strange sense of humour, we rarely laughed at the same parts of a movie. When I told him I really liked a certain song, he would look at me with disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t grab my hand in his sleep, or feel me up in the mornings. He didn’t seem willing to take an interest in any of the things that interested me. We never achieved any sense of ease around each other; we were always on edge, waiting to be dumped, I think. He hardly ever told me he loved me. Maybe, he only said it once, come to think of it. Once in an entire year.”
“That’s all? You broke up with me for that?”
“Well, he was taller than you.”
And more than that. But how does she explain to him that her entire life was revolved around an idea she had of herself, and that he had ruined it? She wasn’t supposed to be with one person. Not one man, not one woman; always it’s been two men, and three women! Often all at once! That was who she was; a women casting sex out of every pore, trapping everyone around her in slick nets that weren’t meant to hold anything for too long. She wanted the chase: to use all the weapons in her arsenal to lure, to bait and trap creatures who needed her to love them. She knew the intensity of first nights naked with someone you’ve wanted to know naked, the casualness of hellos in the street months later, that these moments were the moments that made up the whole of her being. Who she was, was a woman who fought against being content, would rather be miserable than content. She was the hunter, the heart-breaker, the net-maker.
So how does she tell him that he terrified her because being with him felt more natural than all the things she had believed were naturally who she was? How can he know that it didn’t have anything to do with who the other men were, but only that she was being true to herself? Being with undeserved men was her way of being true.
Until she thought it odd how this supposed truth, made her lie so much. Made her miserable, which, by the way, is not even close to being better than content. She was wandering around lost, because he had her heart.
She realized it wasn’t her formidable hunting skills that had made her a desirable woman. It wasn’t how intricately her nets were woven from her fingertips and how expertly she cast them into the seas around her that had made him love her. Who she was in truth had been loved by only one person, and she broke up with him in an attempt to be whom she truthfully believed she was. Isn’t that so very irrational? So, is telling him that there were taller men out there better than explaining to him that he wasn’t something she had planned for and the fact he made her so damn content had made her furious? Probably not. But it was easier."
“That’s all? You broke up with me for that?”
“Well, he was taller than you.”
And more than that. But how does she explain to him that her entire life was revolved around an idea she had of herself, and that he had ruined it? She wasn’t supposed to be with one person. Not one man, not one woman; always it’s been two men, and three women! Often all at once! That was who she was; a women casting sex out of every pore, trapping everyone around her in slick nets that weren’t meant to hold anything for too long. She wanted the chase: to use all the weapons in her arsenal to lure, to bait and trap creatures who needed her to love them. She knew the intensity of first nights naked with someone you’ve wanted to know naked, the casualness of hellos in the street months later, that these moments were the moments that made up the whole of her being. Who she was, was a woman who fought against being content, would rather be miserable than content. She was the hunter, the heart-breaker, the net-maker.
So how does she tell him that he terrified her because being with him felt more natural than all the things she had believed were naturally who she was? How can he know that it didn’t have anything to do with who the other men were, but only that she was being true to herself? Being with undeserved men was her way of being true.
Until she thought it odd how this supposed truth, made her lie so much. Made her miserable, which, by the way, is not even close to being better than content. She was wandering around lost, because he had her heart.
She realized it wasn’t her formidable hunting skills that had made her a desirable woman. It wasn’t how intricately her nets were woven from her fingertips and how expertly she cast them into the seas around her that had made him love her. Who she was in truth had been loved by only one person, and she broke up with him in an attempt to be whom she truthfully believed she was. Isn’t that so very irrational? So, is telling him that there were taller men out there better than explaining to him that he wasn’t something she had planned for and the fact he made her so damn content had made her furious? Probably not. But it was easier."