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It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 3)

It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 2)

My first and only threesome experience was not something that I could have ever imagined happening the way it did. It was totally unexpected. Even when I think about it I find it incredulous that it even happened at all. It all still feels a bit surreal. Even after all these years that have passed. But I guess that’s the thing about living out a fantasy. You daydream about it, but never really expect it to turn into a reality. And when the reality turns out to be so much better than the fantasy you find yourself retreating to nostalgia just to take one more hit, because the fantasy just doesn’t cut it anymore.

My threesome experience signaled the beginning of the end of one of the most hedonistic seasons in my life. It was also part of the genesis of what has been one of the most fulfilling and rewarding relationships I have ever been a part of. A relationship which brought me to my own attention and helped me grow in ways I am still appreciative of today. If I was to pick one relationship that did the most to shape me into the man that I am today it would be that post-ménage a trois relationship. It was the relationship in which I became emotionally mature and became more emotionally intelligent. In this series of posts I have spoken a lot about my ego. It was in that relationship that I first acknowledged my ego and in which I began the difficult journey of managing it. And for the better part of that relationship I succeeded, until I didn’t but that’s a story for another day.

Back to the story at hand.

Mine wasn’t just a random hook up with two random girls as I had once fantasised. It actually involved my “friend with benefits” and the girl who would go on to become a long term girlfriend after that experience. And that is why I am sharing that story today. It would be impossible tell the story about that part of my life without discussing that experience. And it would be a disservice to describe that threesome without putting it in that context as well.

I wish I could take credit for orchestrating the threesome but I can’t. That would be an unnecessary embellishment of a story that I am sure most will find hard to believe. Also for those who might be hoping to get some insight on how to pull off their very own threesome you are probably going to be disappointed because I don’t have a playbook you can follow. I genuinely believe the circumstances of my experience were as unique as it might sound improbable. I don’t think I will ever have a threesome again, but I am OK with that. That one time was more than enough for me. Besides I still wouldn’t know how to convince two women to have a threesome with me even after having been a participant in one before. The only insight I can probably provide is on how to handle one once you find yourself living out that fantasy.

So how did I find myself having a threesome with two women?

The short answer is I was ‘the chosen one’. Without any prompting on my part they had coordinated and agreed between themselves and I just got an invite to the debauchery that ensued. I later learned that the instigator in chief was my ‘friend with benefits’. For the purpose of this blog I will call her *Lala. For Lala the whole experience was some sort of power play that I am not quite sure I understand to this day, but one that backfired horribly for her. When I asked her after why she had pushed for it, her response was ‘I wanted to see what it was about her that you were so caught up on. I wanted to compare and prove to myself that I was better than her … and some part of me half expected her to chicken out.’

As for the girl I would go on to date, who for the purpose of this blog I will call *Hannah, she had suspected that I had been hooking up with Lala but hadn’t been sure. Whilst I had hooked up with Hannah before it had been randomly and we had never discussed the issue of exclusivity. We also happened to get along very well outside the sack but neither of us had made any effort to pursue anything more meaningful. Hannah for obvious reasons didn’t like discussing the threesome and the only insight I ever got on her reasons for taking part was that she perceived it as some kind of challenge and didn’t want to give Lala a win by default or something to that effect. Like I said I don’t fully understand why it happened. I can only share the story with you of how it happened. And that is exactly what I am going to do now.

How it happened …

As the three of us make our way out of the club I find myself a couple of paces behind Lala and Hannah who are walking in front of me with their arms intertwined. This is all too weird I start to think to myself but before I can finish that thought I find myself lusting after both Hannah’s beautiful long legs and Lala’s exquisite derrière, hardly believing my luck. My excitement is building with each step and it is taking all the willpower I can master not to break into a little jig. Keep it cool Taf, you only live 10 minutes away. 10 minutes stand between you and the ultimate fantasy. Don’t blow it. Just keep calm and just follow the girls lead. They are the ones in charge. The ones calling the shots. Just keep your cool. It can’t be that hard. Save all the energy you can anyway. You are going to need every ounce of it tonight.

Now a million thoughts are racing through my mind. Is this really happening? Or is this some cruel joke they are playing on me? Or maybe it’s some sort of test? Are they bluffing? But why would they? Just hold your nerve Taf, and please don’t say anything stupid. Not now. There is nothing to lose here and so much to gain … But surely one of them is going to chicken out. My money is on Hannah … but Hannah is the one I want more. If push comes to shove and I have to make a choice it will be Hannah. That’s a no brainer. She is the one I need to pay a little more attention to. Lala seems determined to go through with this no matter what so I am not too worried about her. Damn, the prospect of both of them at the same time is just … Oh shit, I need to figure out logistics before we get to my place. How is this going to work? I really didn’t think this through even in all the times I fantasised about having a threesome … Man, none of my boys are going to believe this. Shit, I can’t even believe this is happening. I am going to need all the tact and diplomacy I can master to see this through. I have to see this through otherwise I will never be able to live with myself. I can’t blow this.

I suddenly think back to the club where this whole night had started. I hadn’t known what to think when I had seen Lala approach Hannah in the club. They were not friends. They knew of each other but as far as I knew they had never spoken before. But that night they spoke for what felt like forever but in reality were only a few minutes. The next thing I knew they were dancing with each other. They couldn’t have been more contrasted both physically and in terms of their personality. Lala like me, was black African, and Hannah was a white Australian. Lala had a more natural rhythm about her dancing but Hannah was nevertheless holding her own and had more of an intangible aura about her. Lala was extroverted and Hannah more introverted. But there they were dancing away Iike the very best of friends having the time of their life.

I couldn’t make sense of it all, and before I had any time to decide on any course of action I saw them both calling me over to join them. To be honest at the time it felt like I was walking straight into an ambush but being the masochist that I am I joined them anyway. Surely this could not possibly end well.

TO BE CONTINUED …

 
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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs

 

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It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 1)

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A while ago I set out to write a series of blogs the purpose of which was to explore some of my past relationships. I wanted to look back on the influence those experiences have had in shaping me into the man that I am today … For better or for worse. It was supposed to be an exercise in introspection to see how much I have grown, changed or otherwise. It was an attempt to write my wrongs. In the process I hoped that someone out there might learn from some of my experiences.

A recurring theme in the few posts that I actually completed was the domineering role that my ego had on my decision making especially when it came to matters of the heart. This wasn’t too much of a surprise because I know I can have a big ego. Unfortunately I did not follow through and actually finish that series of blogs. After only three posts I quickly shifted to writing about less emotionally demanding topics. Why? Well, because I was at a crossroads as to whether or not to write about a particular experience or should I say season in my life. I found myself questioning what good it would do anyone to share that story. I was unwilling to confront my own demons. I wasn’t sure I could even tell that story in its unfiltered entirety. Anything else would not do it justice.

At the time I couldn’t summon the courage to confront myself within the blank pages margins. It was too daunting. So I chickened out. It was hypocritical of me for several reasons. For starters I pride myself on always following through on whatever personal goal set for myself. In that regard I failed. And that more than anything is why I am here again going around in circles working my way into actually finishing that series. Also the whole point of that series was to take stock of where I have come from, where I am, and where I want to go. It was never supposed to be easy. If I was true to the process it was going to be challenging, but only by overcoming those challenges and confronting my past would I be able to gleam anything meaningful from the whole process of writing and sharing those stories.

In the three posts that I wrote on my past relationships with women all the relationships I wrote about where your conventional and stereotypical boyfriend/girlfriend monogamous relationships. The revelations about how big my ego is and how it can often get in the way of any meaningful relationship were not really groundbreaking. I already knew this. I was just sharing and acknowledging it on this space. Writing my wrongs per se.

But this story that I avoided writing about until now was totally different. That season of my life was characterized by most reckless behavior both emotionally and physically. Although I probably played Russian roulette more with my penis than I did with my emotions. The emotional recklessness I displayed at the time had more to do with the feelings of the people I interacted with at the time. Nonchalant aptly describes my attitude then. Hedonistic, my way of life. It was also the most revealing, selfish and honest period of my life up to that point. It is a period in my early twenties that blasted almost two years from when I was 22- 24 years old. It is a period that I hardly ever talk about or reminisce over. In fact I avoid it like the plague.

A big part of the reason I didn’t write about before is that I have never known where exactly to start. I also worried about how it would be received and whether or not it would somehow awaken any sleeping dogs. Granted this all happened a long time ago now and all the parties involved have moved on but hey, you never know with these things. I was also embarrassed of some of my behavior and didn’t know whether I would be true enough to the story. But then I am aware of how much clarity and closure I have been able to get from writing about even more traumatic events in my life and that is what gives me the confidence to go ahead this time. I have been able to hold myself accountable to myself by simply writing my wrongs on the blank page. It might seem like a trivial way of dealing with issues but it works for me. So that is what I am going to do. As for where to start, in an ode to the anarchism that prevailed at the time I will start somewhere in the middle of that story. On the night of my 23rd birthday party.

The night of my 23rd birthday party is blur that is fragmented by random flashes of memory. If it wasn’t for the pictures I have of the day I’m not sure I would have be able to properly reconstruct some of what happened that night. Neither would I have been able to tell you who was there or what mischief they got up to. But there is one scene that I vividly remember without the aid of pictures or even friends. There is no need to reconstruct it because the images are indelibly etched in crystal clear high definition quality in my memory.

I am in my backyard. Everyone else is either in the house or elsewhere. Well, not quite everyone. There is one other person with me in the backyard. I am laying on my back, intoxicated out of my mind, with no idea at all how I even got here. I don’t realise it at the time but I am ruining my friend and housemates $300 white blazer I had borrowed for the night by laying in the grass like that. Anyway, like I said there someone else in the backyard.

I can make out the silhouette of a woman. The southern cross forms a beautiful backdrop above the silhouette that my drunk self appreciates for a second as I become more and more aware of my surroundings. Now I can feel her gluteus maximus gently cushioned on my person. My pants are pulled down to my knees. I feel the cool summer night’s breeze against my legs. I feel myself inside her. I have no idea where her pants are or when they came off. But she is the teetotaler so I am sure she will feel in the blanks for me later. We have been here before. One too many times in fact. Not in this exact spot in the backyard, but definitely in this situation having casual sex with each other in the most random of places. It has often thrilling So whilst I have no recollection how I got here I am relieved because this is a familiar body. I know all it nooks and crannies,it’s contours and all it’s intricacies. I have navigated my way around it’s curves countless times.

We are not dating. We are not even an ‘item’ per se but we are very familiar with each others bodies. We are ‘friends with benefits” or to put it more bluntly we are F**k buddies. We have managed to keep the boundaries clear and the arrangement has been mutually beneficial and fun. We see each other in spurts. No fancy dinners, no roses, no gifts, no bullshit. We satiate each others libidos with zero emotional distractions. Get in, get off, get out. And so far it has worked. Ours has been a clandestine affair grounded in sexual hedonism, a mutually beneficial and satisfying one at that. None of my friends or even hers knows of our little arrangement. Most of her friends would probably be shocked. That is the way we like it and want it.

But as I meet her gaze I am confronted by her tear filled eyes and for the first time I realise that she is sobbing softly. Now this is a first. I am more accustomed to her lustily pinning me down with her eyes, her luscious lips curved into a knowing smile. Not today, now it’s just her bottom lip that’s quivering uncontrollably. This is uncharted territory and the realisation sobers me up quickly. I try desperately to put together the jigsaw in her eyes but my head is throbbing incessantly and I am struggling to make any sense of what is actually going on. As she reads the puzzled look on my face, she mumbles to me between sobs “ I can’t do this anymore Taf … ”

To Be Continued

In the meantime you can have a read of the blogs I mentioned earlier in which I explored my past relationships here and shared some of the lessons I picked up from them

I Have Never Been IN Love

Where I Wanna Be

The Pretender

 

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs

 

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The Pretender

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Some time ago a child hood friend of mines wife asked me why I was single. My response was an instinctive “I get bored easily” and I quickly followed that up by laughing rather uncomfortably at my own response. Days later, sitting alone with my thoughts I found myself querying myself as to why I had given her that particular answer amongst all the many possible answers I could have offered up. Did I believe the answer that I gave her? That when it came to relationships perhaps I had some sort of ADD? Or was this just another lie I was telling myself. And maybe I was afraid to dig deeper and really look at myself and really analyse why my previous relationships have failed. Anyway I didn’t end up thinking about it for too long and carried on just doing me., Or maybe because I actually do have ADD.

More recently another friend I grew up with asked me to accompany him to go visit his soon to be new in laws. He wanted to initiate the process of negotiating Lobola. Lobola is a dowry/ bride price that a groom pays to the bride’s family when he marries their daughter. Traditionally this was in the form of cows, but nowadays it’s usually in the form of a cash amount that is set by the bride’s family. As such the concept of Lobola is often misconstrued by those alien to the cultural nuances as the process of purchasing a wife. It’s not. The purpose of Lobola according to Shona culture is for ‘Kuwaka hukama” which loosely translates to ‘building relations’. Lobola is meant to facilitate the creation of a bond the two families – that of the bride and grooms. When not abused it’s a great custom. Anyway on this occasion my friend asked me to accompany to go see the girl’s aunt. The Tete as the aunt is known in Shona who would act as the go between him and the bride’s family. She would also give us advice on what was expected of him when the Lobola discussions took place. All in all that visit gave me further insight into the whole process of Lobola, something I will discuss in more detail in a future post.

What I want to discuss today though is how that visit brought me back to that unresolved question on why I was single and even more so that despite all the relationships I have had I have never got to the stage where I even considered Lobola. As such I never made a conscious effort to understand it properly. I just knew of it. I think this is indicative of my lack of impetus when it comes to making long term commitments like getting married. But as more and more of friends are getting married and I find myself in the minority I have actively begun to inform myself so I can have a better understanding and ultimately forge my own path. Whatever that is. It is this that made go back to trying to understand for myself why I don’t seem to have the same urgency that my friends seem to have about settling down. Why made friends wife asked me why I was single.

I think there is some element of truth in my instinctive response that ‘I get bored easily’. I love the process of getting to know someone, revelling in the possibilities that lay ahead. But when it comes to actually going the distance I always seem to come up some way short. One of the reasons for this is that sometimes when I have found myself in the middle of that boundary defining ‘what are we’ conversation I haven’t always carried out my due diligence. It’s often been a case of not having strong enough reasons not to go into a relationship as opposed to having the right motivations to enter into one. Plus I don’t like sharing and monogamy settles that. Because I want that person to myself I sometimes end up in a relationship that I haven’t really thought through. In that way I have always sabotaged myself and it’s no surprise that I haven’t been able to go the distance.

The longest relationship I have ever had ended over four years ago. We dated for almost three years, although the last year we spent breaking up and making up more times than I care to remember. Compared to my other relationships this one I can confidently say I tried to make this one work. We both stuck around through the ups and downs. We tried to deal with our differences and disagreements maturely. It is probably the most grown up relationship I have ever had. A relationship in which I didn’t always feel like call it quits anytime there was trouble in paradise. But as meaningful and grown up as that relationship was I never completely opened up to her. I was committed but for some reason I kept my guard up, never fully letting her get to know all of me. In doing so I cheated both us from fully exploring the potential of that relationship. And even though I kept my guard up I left her to believe that I was an open book and she knew me completely.

So after two years of dating when she pressed me on what my long term plans were and whether I was part of them I buckled. Because I hadn’t fully opened up to her I was afraid she didn’t fully know me. Thinking she did know me (because that is what I left her to believe) she gave me ultimatum to give an outline of plans for our future within 6 months. And so began the slow and protracted end to our relationship. At one stage I tried to explain my hesitation to her. I remember that what she said hurt the most wasn’t that I didn’t completely share the core of who I was with her. It was that I sold her a dream. I left her to believe that she knew all of me. She rightly pointed out that it would have been better not to sell her the idea that I was an open book. “You made it your thing, that you were totally open” she said. She would have been perfectly Ok with me sharing whatever I struggled to share with her whenever I was ready if I hadn’t sold her onto the idea she already knew all of me. She said I was a pretender. Those words have haunted me ever since.

In the aftermath of that relationship I never really took the time to get to the bottom of why I couldn’t be open with her. I just knew that going forward I didn’t want to be called a pretender ever again. The question of why I couldn’t be open with her is one I am not sure I have a conclusive answer for even after all these years. I am tempted to say that maybe part of me knew that we had no long term future no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. And why that rather meek explanation?

Just based on all the relationships I have had I have noticed a trend with the breakdown of all my relationships. Issues that have remained unresolved going back to the first major fight have always turned to be deciding factors in all those break ups. So using that logic I probably knew from our first fight that we didn’t have a long term future and maybe that is why I never fully opened up to her. In my misguided efforts to make it work I inadvertently made sure that it would never work.

 
 

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Where I Wanna Be

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As I sit at my desk writing this Donell Jones intones in my ears “ But when you love someone you just don’t treat them bad/Oh, how I feel so sad/Now that I wanna leave/She’s crying her heart to me/How could you let this be?/I just need time to see where I wanna be…”

This is not just my iTunes randomly accessing my memory bank; rather it’s a deliberate effort on my part to get into the headspace I need to be to write this post. You see, there is a story behind this song. It’s a story that goes back almost a decade ago now, when I was 21. Back when I was in university and dating my first serious girlfriend as a twenty something. We both loved the music of Donell Jones. So much so that he provided the soundtrack to some of our most intimate moments. Little did we both know that he would also inadvertently gift me with the soundtrack to our break up. Donell sang my stupid young self into a sticky situation.

“Never did I imagine/That you would play a major part in a decision that’s so hard/Do I leave, do I stay, do I go?/ I think about my life and what matters to me the most/Girl, the love that we share is real but in time your heart will heal/I’m not saying I’m gone but I have to find what life is like without you…”- Donell Jones(Where I Wanna Be)

Truth is we shouldn’t have even been dating in the first place. In the beginning we were amazing friends and with the benefit of hindsight I realise that we should have probably stayed just that. But what did I know? She was a vibrant, witty, smart, vivacious and focused woman. And I was just horny little boy, still several more mistakes away from becoming a man. We shared most of the same lectures and were part of just a handful of African students on campus so naturally we gravitated towards each other until one day I found myself in the middle of that boundary setting “What are we ?… where is thing going?” conversation. Thinking only of quenching my lust and without giving it much further thought we agreed to date. It was the only way I figured I would get the booty.

Despite the idealistic view of myself at the time as a romantic, there was nothing romantic about that union on my part at least. I was probably more enthralled by the idea of such a vivacious and vibrant woman giving me the booty. And she had quite the booty too so I am not even mad at my younger self for that. However I am disappointed in my younger self betraying my own views on what I thought romance was and going even further to try and convince myself that that was what we had. It wasn’t. It is probably the first time I can recall that I allowed my ego to make a call that my heart should have been making. It wasn’t going to be the last either.

This was a relationship that was convenient for me at the time more than anything else. At the time I was also working part time to support myself. So come time for lectures I often tired and struggled to always pay attention. But luckily for me I now had a girlfriend I shared most of my classes so I was covered. I could always count on her to catch me up on anything I had missed and often relied heavily on her own personal notes. For most of my second year of university exams I also relied heavily on the cheats sheets she would prepare. And that is how I made it through that year.

Despite all this I still felt I could do better than her. Why? Simple. Ego. Not to mention that I obviously wasn’t in love with her. Also as is usually the case when you are in a relationship you start frequently getting attention from other girls that you weren’t getting when you were single ( I’ve never understood that). And for me this attention was coming from all the different kind of girls of different races and nationalities and it got to my head. I thought was the man and even though our relationship was seemingly fine I wanted out. So what did I do? Well, I basically plagiarised the lyrics to Donell Jones’ “Where I Wanna Be” in my break up speech to her.

“I said I left my baby girl a message sayin’ I won’t be coming home/ I’d rather be alone/She doesn’t fully understand me/That I’d rather leave than to cheat/If she gives me some time I can be the man she needs/But there’s a lot of lust inside of me/And we’ve been together since our teenage years/I really don’t mean to hurt her, but I need some time to be alone …” – Donell Jones(Where I Wanna Be)

I went even further and gave her some spill that went something like “Even Michael Jordan quit the game when he was on top.” The logic I was trying to sell to her was that it was best we go our separate ways whilst we still had fond memories of each other. My naivety and douchebagery is not lost on me.

She begrudgingly obliged me. I didn’t really give her much of a choice. And as karma would have it our relative fortunes would go on comically. I quickly learned that the grass isn’t always greener and that attention I had been getting fizzled out eventually. And she went to date someone else some time after we broke up.
Nothing could have prepared me for what would follow. For the lows and embarrassment I would put myself through all because my ego was shattered that she had actually moved on. There is one incident in particular that’s comes flooding back as I write this.

So there we were out one night post break up and I am acting the fool with my boys. That was until I until I spotted in corner of my eye grinding up on new dude. I still don’t know why but I flipping lost it. I won’t lie, I surprised even myself. But I didn’t make a scene; I just glared menacingly in their general direction whilst trying to comprehend why it bothered me so much. I was the one who ended it. The one who thought I could do better. So why was I was I upset? By now my boys had picked up on the source of my agitation. I remember one of them drunkenly offered to ‘take care’ of new dude if that would make me feel better. I was tempted for a second, but I just as quickly declined and made a bee line for the mens room. My ego was now in cruise control. There was no way it would let her think I was bothered.

My brilliant plan was to pull myself together in the mens room. Now in mens room my ego proceeded to give the man in the mirror an impromptu pep talk. One moment I was holding a glass of scotch in my hand, talking to myself and in the next I was hurling it at the mirror and shouting in frustration at myself “This is what you wanted … what the hell is wrong with you?” As the mirror came shattering to the floor new dude simultaneously walked in. wanted to crawl into the toilet bowl. That’s how embarrassed I was. So much for her not finding out that I was upset that she had moved on.

When a much older and wiser self looks back on this episode all I see is my allowing my ego to call the shots. From entering the relationship to not wanting her to move on, it was my ego that got me in those situations. That is not love, or even being in love with someone. It was selfish, self centred and petulant. But hey I was 21. Surely as I grew older and matured over the years I would learn how to starve my ego and feed my soul instead. Or would I?

 
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Posted by on March 25, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs

 

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I Have Never Been IN Love

Humpty_Dumpty_by_Erka_Kuragari

I have never been in love with anyone other than myself.

I have loved some people I have had relationships with, tolerated others, and some, well let’s just say it was just convenient. But when I really look back and think about it, and I am entirely honest with myself I realise that I was never really in love with any of them. At the time though I definitely believed I was in love. I desperately wanted to believe that I was in love. I guess it was easier than admitting to myself that I was a pragmatist who dated people he just got along with. People who massaged my fragile and over sized ego and made me feel loved. That I was probably in love with the idea of being loved and to show my appreciation I loved them back? This however didn’t fit in with the carefully crafted narrative I had written for myself. One in which I was a romantic, a lover. So I convinced myself I was in love. I might have even tried to convince myself that they were the one. What is probably more closer to the truth is that it was most likely just an infatuation with her booty.

Another factor to consider is that my younger self was so irrationally preoccupied with avoiding that mythical black hole that is the friend zone, so much so that I jeorpadised many a friendship that would have surely enriched my life. Where I could have been amazing friends with some of the people I dated I opted to date, again all because of that narrative I was trying to write. That I was lover, and a romantic. Oh how misguided I was. in my current incarnation I am not sure I have met “the one” yet or that there even is one specific person out there we are pre destined to be with. If it’s a case of soul mates I believe we can actually have more than one soul mate and we might actually never get to spend forever with any of them but that’s a story for another day.

I know how cynical and jaded I probably sound writing all but if you will please indulge me I will try and explain myself. At the end of Lauryn Hill’s song Doo Woop (That Thing) on her The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill album a young girl offers up her musings on what she thinks the difference between being in love and loving someone. This largely informs my own understanding of what that difference is.

There is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. You can love anybody. But when you are in love with somebody, you looking at it like this: you taking that person for what he or she is no matter what he or she look like or no matter what he or she do. You might stop being in love with them but you are not going to stop loving that person.- musings of a young girl on Lauryn Hills Doo Woop (That Thing)

My understanding and interpretation of that is that being in love is typically based on dependability, respect, compromise and compassion. Loving someone on the other hand is particularly different. You basically want the best for them and you encourage them in what they but you might not necessarily compromise for them or be dependable. It’s a very thin and blurry line between the two.

The biggest lies we tell are the ones we tell ourselves. In fact for us to lie to others in most instances we lie to ourselves first. We tell ourselves that we are protecting them or don’t want to hurt them and we use that as justification. We are lying to ourselves. When I look at most of the relationships I have been a part of throughout my twenties a pattern slows starts to emerge. There are a few recurring themes that characterise all those relationships. Whilst the people I have dated are all unique and different there is one common denominator in all those relationships – yours truly. Whilst the relationships have ended for a myriad of reasons it has been the same qualities and characteristics of my person that have always had the deciding vote in the end. Whether it was a breakdown in trust, a lack of communication, divergent views, values or goals it was how mostly my ego dealt with those challenges. And so it has been that my ego cast the decisive vote on my part.

For me the deciding vote on whether to stay, fight for it or walk away has always been predominantly cast by me ego. I am in no way saying this is the right or mature way to have handled things but that it is what is. I can’t rewrite history; I can only hope to write my wrongs and maybe someone else might learn from my flaws and mistakes. Whenever my relationship became untenable, it was usually because my ego was no longer being massaged. And that was all the incentive I needed to move on. In some situations I have pushed be trusted or loved and vice versa. In the few instances where I was on the receiving end, and my trust was broken as long as my ego was soothed somehow in the aftermath I would stay, because that’s all that really counted, my ego. Not being in love or loving someone. Maybe I have never even been in love with myself and Instead I have been in love with my ego.

Over the course of this I will use this blog as a vehicle for me to start writing my wrongs by discussing and analysing some of the defining relationships I have had in my life and trying to get a better understanding and further insight into my own actions. Hopefully In the process I will begin to find the answers as to why I made the choices I made, why I have never been in love. I will be writing in search of my truth. It will be the start of a journey I am embarking on to starve my ego and feed my soul. And maybe in the process I will not learn from my mistakes but also grown within the margins of the blank page.

 
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Posted by on March 24, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs

 

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