The self help book Feeling Good by Dr. David Burns contains several instances of patients, mainly women, having to contend with the prospect of wayward spouses and boyfriends never coming back to them. In every scenario, Dr. Burns winds up advising the patient to take measures that will allow them to live without the person they miss so much. The desired outcome in each case involves the patient acquiring a newfound sense of independence and autonomy. The patient acquires so much autonomy, in fact, that they come to the conclusion that they really don't need the wayward spouse or elusive boyfriend they once pined for so desperately.
Many, many times in my life, I've taken this advice to heart. From the times when I really put myself in the doghouse with someone such as Wanda, to the times later on, when I found myself without my love interest, even though I never really did anything wrong, such as the case with Sara. In my case, I most often find myself having to go it alone in relation to a love interest type, rather than an actual girlfriend. I find it notable that the absence of these people at some point in my life often seems to have more to do with an effort to exert dominance and control over me than any actual need to not show up in my life in a meaningful way. When I see this absence on their part as a bid to control me and the deal between us in this way, I just feel that much more motivated to live without such a person.
In the cases of Sara and Ann Marie, the prospect of a reunion hinged on whether or not I jumped through their hoops in some way. I saw them, or those I associated with them, seemingly communicate that message to me, and I blew them off. After I blew Sara off, I wound up at SVA in New York City in 1989. I blew off Ann Marie in the summer of 1991, after I'd graduated from SVA, and I wound up back in Austin. Not exactly bigger and better things in either instance, but I did get on with my life.
The one constant in just about every deal I've found myself with the Katies, or Veronicas, or the Wandas, or the Saras, or the Ann Maries, or the Virgin Girls, or the other cashiers at that grocery store, remains this imperative that, at some point, I just get on with my life. To get on with my life, I had to learn to enjoy my life as a single man and as a bit of a dateless wonder to boot. I haven't even seen that former cashier from that grocery store in over a year. Okay, I might have seen her once somewhere else last February, but still, that's a long time. The worst thing she or anyone else can accuse me of doing wrong would involve accusing me of bailing out prematurely, but I just didn't want anything fucked up to happen, and based on my experiences with women such as her in my past, that's a laudable and worthwhile goal to try to achieve.
Many, many times in my life, I've taken this advice to heart. From the times when I really put myself in the doghouse with someone such as Wanda, to the times later on, when I found myself without my love interest, even though I never really did anything wrong, such as the case with Sara. In my case, I most often find myself having to go it alone in relation to a love interest type, rather than an actual girlfriend. I find it notable that the absence of these people at some point in my life often seems to have more to do with an effort to exert dominance and control over me than any actual need to not show up in my life in a meaningful way. When I see this absence on their part as a bid to control me and the deal between us in this way, I just feel that much more motivated to live without such a person.
In the cases of Sara and Ann Marie, the prospect of a reunion hinged on whether or not I jumped through their hoops in some way. I saw them, or those I associated with them, seemingly communicate that message to me, and I blew them off. After I blew Sara off, I wound up at SVA in New York City in 1989. I blew off Ann Marie in the summer of 1991, after I'd graduated from SVA, and I wound up back in Austin. Not exactly bigger and better things in either instance, but I did get on with my life.
The one constant in just about every deal I've found myself with the Katies, or Veronicas, or the Wandas, or the Saras, or the Ann Maries, or the Virgin Girls, or the other cashiers at that grocery store, remains this imperative that, at some point, I just get on with my life. To get on with my life, I had to learn to enjoy my life as a single man and as a bit of a dateless wonder to boot. I haven't even seen that former cashier from that grocery store in over a year. Okay, I might have seen her once somewhere else last February, but still, that's a long time. The worst thing she or anyone else can accuse me of doing wrong would involve accusing me of bailing out prematurely, but I just didn't want anything fucked up to happen, and based on my experiences with women such as her in my past, that's a laudable and worthwhile goal to try to achieve.
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