Being played.
As part of my major sociological experiment – being single – I’d like to share this observation.
After this whole entire week of turbulent emotions stemming from a man who kind of stomped on my heart, something is ringing apparent to me. Every male I’ve been romantically involved with has, at some point, regardless of how honest or conniving he is, tried to spare my emotions by being economical with the truth. And finding out he did that was usually the most hurtful part of the relationship, and it killed me a little each time it happened.
What I wish I could tell men is that the truth is much easier to handle than being played. I do not like being played – it’s an insult to my character. I can handle the truth. If he thinks something is on a need-to-know basis, that’s his prerogative, and it’s not something I can control. But when he gets found out, it sucks! All men lie. Men are dogs: they’ll get away with whatever they can.
Okay – so the opposite of love is indifference. When I harden myself and become indifferent to whether I was played or got the whole truth, then what good is it sustaining the relationship, anyway? There’s no love left.
I guess the only thing I could do to safeguard my heart in the future is to state it up front: don’t play games with me. If there’s something out there calling your name, just talk to me about it. I’d rather know you’re going to go do that thing than find out later you lied to me. Plus it’s uncomfortable for you to be tiptoeing around. Let’s be happy! If you’re unhappy with me, stop wasting both your time and mine, and let’s adjust.
