Blame It On Me
(crossposted from fb/ms)
"It's a chronicle of failure foretold. A well-known fact you go for guys which you know you have no future with," she said nonchalantly, unaffected, as if she was saying that it is a well-known fact that I'm not very tall, or that I have brown hair. It was so matter of fact that I didn't even stop to think about it until hours later. In another lifetime I would've disputed it, or tried to paint it in more flattering tones (for instance I would've worn the "optimistic" coat quite well). But alas, like Freud, it's a theory that cannot be debunked.
I add a disclaimer in bold lettering and italics emphasizing the fact that this is not a conscious process. It does not cross my mind that the handsome bloke flirting with me who has disaster oozing out of his every pore, is an excellent candidate to break my heart. I would like to think my self-destructive masochistic mechanisms work more subtly than that.
The fact remains, however, that it is easier to fall for the unattainables. Contrary to popular belief, this is not because of the game, or the chase, the challenge or the "if it's broken let's fix it" syndrome, that men so much like to project on us women. In my case, at least, it's a matter of self preservation. It is much easier to blame a failed attempt at romance on its hopelessness than on yourself. Social psychologists call it augmentation which is when we add factors for attribution to reduce focus from the real reason. I do the same thing in school when I write papers two days before their due dates, or study poorly for an exam, in order to later feel like less of a failure when I flunk.
I suppose that is where the hopeless in hopeless romantic comes from. It's been a long time, if ever, since I have felt hopeful about love. Most days I wear jaded proudly, with lavish accessories of baggage to boot, but somedays I'm quite desperate to feeling hopeful. It's scary to feel like everything is falling into place, especially in romance, because it means you have so much more to lose by screwing up. When I used to play music competitively, there would always be that one phrase in the piece which I had problems with. Although by the time the concert or competition came around it was usually well rehearsed and played, as soon as I began thinking about screwing it up it would throw me out of focus and I would screw it up. Self fulfilling prophecy. Pygmalion effect. Murphey's law. You can call it Gladis for all I care. In fact, you don't have to call it at all, it comes all on its own. And it sucks. And so, going for the guys who can later share the blame for your failures is a great strategy all around. The only catch in that perfect plan is that I never find love. Oops?
Here we are again, and we're looking at each other
As if each other were to blame
You think you're so smart, but I've seen you naked
And I'll probably see you naked again
Milli Vanilli told you to blame it on on the rain,
But if you blame it on the rain, tell me what can be gained
So if all else fails, you can blame it on me.
If all else fails, you can blame it on me.
If all else fails, blame it on me.
If all else fails, you can blame it on me.....
...Well here we are and you're a hundred thousand miles away
They say that absence makes the heart grow fungus
I wax poetic while you're waxing your legs
And you say you think there's a traitor among us
If all else fails, you can blame it on me.
-Barenaked Ladies
"It's a chronicle of failure foretold. A well-known fact you go for guys which you know you have no future with," she said nonchalantly, unaffected, as if she was saying that it is a well-known fact that I'm not very tall, or that I have brown hair. It was so matter of fact that I didn't even stop to think about it until hours later. In another lifetime I would've disputed it, or tried to paint it in more flattering tones (for instance I would've worn the "optimistic" coat quite well). But alas, like Freud, it's a theory that cannot be debunked.
I add a disclaimer in bold lettering and italics emphasizing the fact that this is not a conscious process. It does not cross my mind that the handsome bloke flirting with me who has disaster oozing out of his every pore, is an excellent candidate to break my heart. I would like to think my self-destructive masochistic mechanisms work more subtly than that.
The fact remains, however, that it is easier to fall for the unattainables. Contrary to popular belief, this is not because of the game, or the chase, the challenge or the "if it's broken let's fix it" syndrome, that men so much like to project on us women. In my case, at least, it's a matter of self preservation. It is much easier to blame a failed attempt at romance on its hopelessness than on yourself. Social psychologists call it augmentation which is when we add factors for attribution to reduce focus from the real reason. I do the same thing in school when I write papers two days before their due dates, or study poorly for an exam, in order to later feel like less of a failure when I flunk.
I suppose that is where the hopeless in hopeless romantic comes from. It's been a long time, if ever, since I have felt hopeful about love. Most days I wear jaded proudly, with lavish accessories of baggage to boot, but somedays I'm quite desperate to feeling hopeful. It's scary to feel like everything is falling into place, especially in romance, because it means you have so much more to lose by screwing up. When I used to play music competitively, there would always be that one phrase in the piece which I had problems with. Although by the time the concert or competition came around it was usually well rehearsed and played, as soon as I began thinking about screwing it up it would throw me out of focus and I would screw it up. Self fulfilling prophecy. Pygmalion effect. Murphey's law. You can call it Gladis for all I care. In fact, you don't have to call it at all, it comes all on its own. And it sucks. And so, going for the guys who can later share the blame for your failures is a great strategy all around. The only catch in that perfect plan is that I never find love. Oops?
Here we are again, and we're looking at each other
As if each other were to blame
You think you're so smart, but I've seen you naked
And I'll probably see you naked again
Milli Vanilli told you to blame it on on the rain,
But if you blame it on the rain, tell me what can be gained
So if all else fails, you can blame it on me.
If all else fails, you can blame it on me.
If all else fails, blame it on me.
If all else fails, you can blame it on me.....
...Well here we are and you're a hundred thousand miles away
They say that absence makes the heart grow fungus
I wax poetic while you're waxing your legs
And you say you think there's a traitor among us
If all else fails, you can blame it on me.
-Barenaked Ladies