Thursday, October 29, 2009

Conscious of my subconscious

The Athlete was never mine to begin with, so I think that minimizing the bummed out factor from yesterday’s news would be wise.

I should have known better.

He proved to me, more than a year ago, that he was just like every other professional athlete – collecting girls like trading cards. When he came home this summer, I chose to ignore it. Pretended that I didn’t know that he had drunk dialed me despite having a girlfriend elsewhere.

The attention was nice.
And he is adorable.
And the idea of him – living his lifelong dream, getting paid to do what he loved, living in Europe, great with kids, close with his family – was enough to obscure my better judgment.

But when it came to that bar crawl, I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let down my guard enough to throw myself at him.

I thought, at the time, that it was because I was scared. Or too shy. Or too awkward.

But maybe I knew better. Despite not knowing that I knew better.

“You sort of subconsciously protect yourself,” Accidentally Me, one of my favorite bloggers, said to yesterday.

She might be right.

I want them although I shouldn’t. I pursue them despite their flaws. And it falls short. Is finished before it begins.

Due to, perhaps, a little more of my influence than I allow myself to see.

I wanted Colin. But I never let him in. Because I knew that he was selfish and immature and emotionally broken. I told myself otherwise. I fell for my own trickery. But my subconscious never believed it.

I wanted The Athlete. But I didn’t push it. I couldn’t make the move. And I thought it was because I am a coward. Not because my subconscious knew that I would never be nothing more than another conquest. A name on a lengthy list. While I was busy tallying everything adorable about him, my subconscious was broadcasting the truth. Manwhore. Manwhore. Manwhore.

And so I don’t allow things to happen. Even though I want them to. Or, to be more precise, think that I want to happen.

And so these things don’t work out.

Which I’m used to. I am used to these things not working out.

What I’m not used to, however, is the suggestion that the failures aren’t because of me. It isn’t how I look or what I wear or my personality.

It is because I’m picking the wrong guys.

And because my subconscious is unpicking them.

4 comments:

Thisisme said...

You just gave me a little insight to myself!! (:

my life is brilliant said...

What an awesome realization. I think your subconscious kicks ass!

Unknown said...

Honey- first of all, we KNOW it's not how you look or what you wear or your personality. You are gorgeous and a GREAT catch!!! I agree that you've probably figured it out- you are protecting yourself (definitely a good thing in this case!).

Anonymous said...

I think this is a wonderful post, and it's good! You'll let the right one in, I promise that!

 
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