Love Isn’t Always On Time and Things I Wish I Had Known

Caution to probable male readers: This is not for the faint of heart. I had flicked off a few of my blog buddies, one by one, just to be able to write posts like this. But then, I suddenly found myself earning a new set of dude pals because I just couldn’t help myself from clicking Like on your impressive blog posts. Now I may have another batch to flick away – soon. 😀

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Nobody in my childhood and teen years had hammered to my awareness the value of enriching the mind. I was raised in a household that glorified good looks more than cerebral strength. Same as to the necessity in complying with societal norms; Everyone should get married, have children, try to live happily ever after.

In the recent past, almost everybody never gets tired aiming these questions at me: “You aren’t seeing anyone anymore? Do you realize how much you’re missing out on not having a man?”

If the inquisitor is a female, it’s tempting to bounce back with: “You know, you’re just too dull to cultivate any hobbies instead of immersing yourself with the crap your man throws your way.”

If it’s a man, it would be lovely to imagine myself blurting out: “@s$h*l*.”

But I try to manage with a smile. Sometimes my counter goes like “Eh, they’re all the same” — although it may prompt me to run for my life afterwards. 🙂  My safer candid reply has come down to, “If only it was that easy to hook up with anyone for hooking-up’s sake.” 

Look, I’ve been through all that – young love, sweet romances, affairs, marriage, matrimonial dissolution, dating, younger men, etc. They entirely sum up to an unfortunate truth: I wasted too much of my precious time on men.

Don’t get me wrong. I do like men. No, to be precise, I love men. They’re fabulous friends, buddies, helpers, acquaintances, entertainers, co-workers, bosses, business partners, etc. I am grateful for having them around.

And I still get crushes: I blush helplessly in front of a ridiculously handsome, humorous, charming man; glance surreptitiously at the hottest-looking guy inside a 7-11 store; fall off my chair (out of admiration) reading well-crafted blog posts of interestingly (emphasis on the term interesting) intelligent men. I may be jaded, but I’m not dead.

In the actual romance department, though, it’s undeniable men are fantastic only during the early stages — best to enjoy them while they’re still into you, I mean. Subsequently, things inevitably turn downhill.

Before I forget, the words sharp and “very wise” have also been used to describe me.

The highest number of responses I garnered came from my “opus” —  https://justmarj.wordpress.com/2013/11/16/the-satirical-hard-facts-about-being-single-strictly-for-ladies-only/ — which received mild criticism from one or two co-bloggers who told me I had been merely lashing out for all the romantic blows I took in the past. Partly true, I guess. Even so, my major issues remain: Why do women generally have to come out as the pathetic gender in the sphere of love? Why are they willing to swallow a massive nutty pile of bullshit from their partners just to duck the prospect of being alone, at least, for a while?

Unless you were fortunate to have ended up with the person The Gods of Heavens had matched you up with, sustaining a relationship would be a lifetime of struggle. Especially for the woman who’ll always be on the losing side by reason of her cultural status and emotional constitution. Why has jumping through hoops always been the woman’s task?

The principal cause of men misbehaving happens to be us, too. We women let them get away with unacceptable behaviour. Then we feel dreadful and disgraced for having allowed the mistreatment.

All around me I see only couples who simply go on enduring the company of their better halves for whatever reasons. They aren’t happy, either. A greater number are even tons unhappier than the unmarried ones. And there’s this thing I have noted as well: The inevitable crisis of growing old could tame some men and make them behave better, or finally results to them becoming improved, docile mates. Nevertheless, what kind of woman would be willing to wait that long?

Loneliness is likely the no-joke repercussion most single women can’t bear going through. As for me, I don’t feel the type of loneliness these women are straining to dodge. Honestly. Maybe I’m finer flying solo. Or perhaps, for mysterious reasons, it just doesn’t bother me. The conformists will, however, always have something unpleasant to say to my case and argument.

I watched an Oprah episode on man-woman issues ages ago that had one man asserting, “Most often (for us), it’s all about right timing.” The rest of the men in the audience nodded. It’s that simple. I wish I had known that in my much younger days. I wish all women knew that. So they wouldn’t have to shed all those tears and keep jumping through hoops which are undesirable corollaries to the “privilege” of staying as the other half of a couple.

To my mind, still, that man’s sentiment is a brown nutty pile of bullshit.

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I couldn’t think of a better title for this post other than the the words “love isn’t always on time” from the lyrics of “Hold The Line,” my favorite from the band Toto. The song says it well: It’s never really about what the woman does to keep a man. Please get that, my fellow gals.