I just watched a short video on YouTube put out by Vogue that featured female models talking about some of the fucked up things they encountered from their agencies and the male figures they worked with in the industry. I was all set to grouse about how unfair it was that I have to deal with young women in my world who don't know what they want, and how they try to get me to jump through hoops, and how that indicates that they don't care for me, and so on. But, in my case, all I really have to do is say "no" to all of that and that settles the issue. A waitress or barista in my world doesn't wield so much power over me that "no" wouldn't be a totally acceptable solution to whatever dilemma they might or might not put out there for me to deal with.
It's not that I'm against the IDEA of getting to know one of these types better. It's more in how it plays out. It plays out that I invariably wind up dealing with a person whose trying to get me to do whatever it is they want me to do, and the whole reason they try to get me to do whatever it is they want me to do in the first place is to see if they can get me to do whatever it is they want me to do, and that's about all there is to their game. There never seems to be a genuine offer of friendship on the table at all. I can only conclude that these young women know how to flirt with certain men, and that they may have learned that they can manipulate certain men, but in the general sense they don't know what they want as far as the type of man they want, or what they want in the make up of a romantic love relationship. And, these are the ones who aren't just flat out playing cruel rejection games with me.
My only advice to such women, in regards to me, is the advice I give myself: if they find qualities they like in me, such as intelligence, or insight, or a sense of humor, but feel that there's too many things about me they are not comfortable with; maybe they can tell themselves that they can look for qualities they like about me in someone they are more comfortable with. That person might be closer to their own age, or not an insane person, or whatever. I do it. I say, "Yeah, Cindy's really young and cute, and she seems nice, and she's pretty easy to talk to, but I want someone who actually wants to go out with me. So, I guess I want someone who has some youth and cuteness still in them, but whose not going to balk at the age difference, and has maybe seen enough of life to know they could do a lot worse than a mentally ill guy who can take care of himself pretty good, and who does not smoke, do drugs. or drink alcohol, and has some ambition about at least producing good art, even if the market never really finds him." Yep, that's what I tell myself all the time.
I've said in previous posts that there is one person in the last twenty years that I would like a do over in regards to. In thinking about this post, I've changed my mind on that. The last time I saw Lauren, in 2010, she was three days away from moving to Waco to go to law school. I liked her, she was attractive, our conversation came light and easy, she liked my sense of humor, but, on that last day of work for her, as we left for the day, she kind of slowed down and had a look on her face that displayed that she was in a quandary. I just took that as my cue to wish her good luck in law school and bolt out of there. For years I've regretted that. But, this evening I realized that, in getting the hell out of there in reaction to the look on her face, I was responding to the notion that she still might have had doubts about me. At least, that is how I read it at the time.
My reaction came from several times in my life where I reacted in pretty much the same way. The first time I reacted in a similar manner was in regards to Sara in 1988, when I felt as if I were, once again, being asked to prove something to a friend of hers. I hadn't seen Sara in two months during UT Summer School, and one of her friends, whom I'd also hadn't seen in a long time, started coughing stagily as we both painted, just the two of us, in a large art school studio one night. Then and there I decided I'd had it with Sara. Another time, in the Summer of 1991, in New York City, I went to Tommy's gallery to see if I could hunt down Ann Marie. I'd seen her on the street outside this gallery in midtown Manhattan several weeks prior. This was after I'd let go of her in a rather decisive fashion at the end of the Spring Semester, and thus at the end of my time in grad school. I went into Tommy's gallery, a young guy sat at the desk, and I asked if an old classmate was working there that day. This guy said that Lance was on vacation. I then heard a woman on the phone from an office behind the front desk. It could've been Ann Marie, but at this point I didn't even know if Ann Marie really worked there. The young woman I heard finished her phone conversation, the young man coughed or cleared his throat, and I walked out. Another time, in 1997, I was at a party where Snolly showed up. Long story short, I'd somehow "proved" sufficiently to some of the people in this group that I wasn't a rapist, and Snolly was mixed up in all of that bullshit. I talked to her a little at this party, then walked to the store for cigarettes, and when I got back she was gone. Whatever else Snolly thought of me after that encounter, she must have realized that I wasn't trying super hard to get with her. Young men from that peer group seemed glad to see me for years after that whole episode.
So yeah, in regards to Lauren, the young woman going off to law school, I'd just conditioned myself over many years to let stuff go when such a crossroads presented itself. This tendency to do this has everything to do with the compromised situations I'd found myself in while in my early twenties. In each instance, I feel that I could have been dealing with a young woman who really didn't know if she wanted things to go to a sexual place with me, or any other place, and I, for my part, looking back, feel like I put too much pressure on myself to make something happen. So, any young woman who tries to put me in a position where I'm confused and at a loss is really stirring up dark, unpleasant associations- not just these compromised-situation-associations, but times where young women were deliberately playing cruel rejection games with me- any young woman who tries to put me in some kind of existential, romantic love equivalent to a flight or fight situation is not in good company, and my best response, as a far as I can tell, is to just get the hell out.
It's not that I'm against the IDEA of getting to know one of these types better. It's more in how it plays out. It plays out that I invariably wind up dealing with a person whose trying to get me to do whatever it is they want me to do, and the whole reason they try to get me to do whatever it is they want me to do in the first place is to see if they can get me to do whatever it is they want me to do, and that's about all there is to their game. There never seems to be a genuine offer of friendship on the table at all. I can only conclude that these young women know how to flirt with certain men, and that they may have learned that they can manipulate certain men, but in the general sense they don't know what they want as far as the type of man they want, or what they want in the make up of a romantic love relationship. And, these are the ones who aren't just flat out playing cruel rejection games with me.
My only advice to such women, in regards to me, is the advice I give myself: if they find qualities they like in me, such as intelligence, or insight, or a sense of humor, but feel that there's too many things about me they are not comfortable with; maybe they can tell themselves that they can look for qualities they like about me in someone they are more comfortable with. That person might be closer to their own age, or not an insane person, or whatever. I do it. I say, "Yeah, Cindy's really young and cute, and she seems nice, and she's pretty easy to talk to, but I want someone who actually wants to go out with me. So, I guess I want someone who has some youth and cuteness still in them, but whose not going to balk at the age difference, and has maybe seen enough of life to know they could do a lot worse than a mentally ill guy who can take care of himself pretty good, and who does not smoke, do drugs. or drink alcohol, and has some ambition about at least producing good art, even if the market never really finds him." Yep, that's what I tell myself all the time.
I've said in previous posts that there is one person in the last twenty years that I would like a do over in regards to. In thinking about this post, I've changed my mind on that. The last time I saw Lauren, in 2010, she was three days away from moving to Waco to go to law school. I liked her, she was attractive, our conversation came light and easy, she liked my sense of humor, but, on that last day of work for her, as we left for the day, she kind of slowed down and had a look on her face that displayed that she was in a quandary. I just took that as my cue to wish her good luck in law school and bolt out of there. For years I've regretted that. But, this evening I realized that, in getting the hell out of there in reaction to the look on her face, I was responding to the notion that she still might have had doubts about me. At least, that is how I read it at the time.
My reaction came from several times in my life where I reacted in pretty much the same way. The first time I reacted in a similar manner was in regards to Sara in 1988, when I felt as if I were, once again, being asked to prove something to a friend of hers. I hadn't seen Sara in two months during UT Summer School, and one of her friends, whom I'd also hadn't seen in a long time, started coughing stagily as we both painted, just the two of us, in a large art school studio one night. Then and there I decided I'd had it with Sara. Another time, in the Summer of 1991, in New York City, I went to Tommy's gallery to see if I could hunt down Ann Marie. I'd seen her on the street outside this gallery in midtown Manhattan several weeks prior. This was after I'd let go of her in a rather decisive fashion at the end of the Spring Semester, and thus at the end of my time in grad school. I went into Tommy's gallery, a young guy sat at the desk, and I asked if an old classmate was working there that day. This guy said that Lance was on vacation. I then heard a woman on the phone from an office behind the front desk. It could've been Ann Marie, but at this point I didn't even know if Ann Marie really worked there. The young woman I heard finished her phone conversation, the young man coughed or cleared his throat, and I walked out. Another time, in 1997, I was at a party where Snolly showed up. Long story short, I'd somehow "proved" sufficiently to some of the people in this group that I wasn't a rapist, and Snolly was mixed up in all of that bullshit. I talked to her a little at this party, then walked to the store for cigarettes, and when I got back she was gone. Whatever else Snolly thought of me after that encounter, she must have realized that I wasn't trying super hard to get with her. Young men from that peer group seemed glad to see me for years after that whole episode.
So yeah, in regards to Lauren, the young woman going off to law school, I'd just conditioned myself over many years to let stuff go when such a crossroads presented itself. This tendency to do this has everything to do with the compromised situations I'd found myself in while in my early twenties. In each instance, I feel that I could have been dealing with a young woman who really didn't know if she wanted things to go to a sexual place with me, or any other place, and I, for my part, looking back, feel like I put too much pressure on myself to make something happen. So, any young woman who tries to put me in a position where I'm confused and at a loss is really stirring up dark, unpleasant associations- not just these compromised-situation-associations, but times where young women were deliberately playing cruel rejection games with me- any young woman who tries to put me in some kind of existential, romantic love equivalent to a flight or fight situation is not in good company, and my best response, as a far as I can tell, is to just get the hell out.
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